[mission: hyrypia] not fare well

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: Everyone
WHERE: The Red Coast
WHEN: MIDDAY :023 - DAY:027
SUMMARY: A half day's journey from the far side of the Finger Maze sits a village of stone against a red sea.
WARNINGS: None! Will add as appropriate. Have something you want noted here? PM the mod account.

HYRYPIA - THE FAR SIDE OF THE MAZE
MIDDAY :023

A SHARP RELIEF
BY THE TIME the shadow of the airship has sailed away from them, the members of the pilgrimage have had time to take in their surroundings. Gone are the acres of endless grasses, and behind them are the whistling cliffs. What lies ahead is rocky highland, not bordered by steep walls of rock but stretching around them and meandering downward. The ground here is mostly stone, almost barren outside of the occasional scrubby tree and the small, hardy looking creatures with rounded haunches and blockish faces that dart behind the scattered stones and into clumps of pale violet grasses that they seem to eat, along with the lowest leaves of the trees.

It's a half a day’s journey to their next destination. The path they follow meanders, and though it's some kind of a road there are far more potholes for the baggage cart wheels to catch and the hardness of the ground comes as something of a surprise after their opulent journey over the Finger Maze. The Envoys are again left to mingle and make their way, the sounds of music and chatter beginning again. After some hours, the scent of the air has noticeably shifted. The sea-salt air is the first sign that they have neared their destination.


HYRYPIA - THE RED COAST
LATE DAY :023

A WARM WELCOME
THE RED COAST does not come upon them all at once. Instead as they continue wandering the twisting stone paths, the Pilgrimage is brought ever downward and the coast's features slowly reveal itself. First comes a view of a dark sea on the horizon, then the shale eventually gives way to reveal the tops of buildings and narrow, winding streets of a small town clinging along the coast. The town - or fief - almost perfectly compliments the landscape which it hugs. The buildings are small and stone, rough hewn or perhaps simply worn down over the ages. The streets, much like the path the Pilgrimage followed from the Finger Maze, seem to wind their way randomly through the town, following the natural curves in the stone down to the shore which is lined with docks.

In the distance across a misty stretch of dark water, a great towering city can be seen. Sky ships fleck the air around it - a reminder of the realities of the modern life of this planet. However here the Hyrypian locals seem removed from that. They populate ancient looking stone and bobbing wood docks and go to sea in vessels made almost entirely of either wood or some kind of hardened fiber. Divers can be seen distantly in the red waves of the coast, bobbing up in the surf then disappearing under the water again.

As the Pilgrimage comes into the town, they are greeted by local Hyrypians which line the sides of the streets. They stand against the sides of their homes and places of business, daily tasks set aside for now to greet their guests. There are smiles and waves. Several locals pass trinkets into the hands of the passing envoys. None of these are quite the same - there are some beaded bracelets and other small jewelry, hair pins, flowers, and small paper figures of animals and boats and Rabadocean-like figures. All the gifts have a handmade feel to them.


A MOMENT'S REST
THE PATH leading to Tyrisson village doesn't actually lead down to the beach, though it may seem to. Instead it weaves out away from the town towards a low manor above the town. Just beside the manor sits a large stone clearing - the most level ground they've seen since the Graze. The courtyard consists of stone bricks arranged in intricate circular patterns. Covering this large stone yard is an almost overwhelming number of identical, simple stone buildings with single entrances covered by cloth and several broad windows similarly curtained. Each small unit is lit and from within there is the scent of food - the walk and the scent of salt piquing appetites. The members of the Pilgrimage's many envoys are lead to these buildings. Each unit houses roughly fifteen individuals, complete with rows of beds and long dining tables - all of which are far simpler than the great berths of the airship.

The Carbauschians are lead to a cluster of three of the barrack buildings and are politely informed that these will be theirs for the length of their stay on the Red Coast. Then they are left to their own devices to unpack and enjoy the hot dinner that has been prepared and left for them inside.

DAY :024

SIMPLE HOSPITALITY
FROM THEIR BARRACKS the sunrise over the shores of the Red Coast is breathtaking. The red sun sits in a red sky, all of which is mirrored by the red water along the coast. Late in the morning, a polite knock at the exterior of each dwelling summons all of the members of the pilgrimage out into courtyard where they're greeted by pleasant-faced and loosely dressed members of the Tyrisson household. The envoys are provided with a breakfast - warm buns stuffed with savory filling. Many of the local Hyrypians seem deeply curious and eye the Carbauschian veils and layers with interest. When the twin heads of Tyrisson house come before their gathering, the assembled servants bow deeply. As on the airship, they deliver their prepared speech smoothly between them:

"Welcome to the Red Coast and Tyrisson village. This place was once the very definition of Hyrypian industry, the very busiest place on the entire continent. Now, we hope you welcome and enjoy what has become a more sedate way of life. With all that's happened in the last few days, we invite you to take your time - to relax - to partake in the history of this place at your own pace and to enjoy the hospitality provided by the people here.

"There might be a special surprise or two to be fished up toward the end of your stay here," says one of the twins with a wink. "But we can promise they're good ones."

With that, the twins step down and the servants file back into the manor house. The guests are left to their own devices. The town below is open to them, ready to share their skills and traditions with visitors. Over the next few days there are a number of tasks for the Pilgrims to take part in, including:

SEA WEAVING - Along the edges of the docks there are a handful of Hyrypians in small outbuildings, open to the sea breeze and light. Inside the artisans - mostly older and with a certain paleness along the edges of their facial crests - weave grasses taken up from the seafloor. Their skilled fingers fold the strands over and under to create baskets, mats, and even the beginnings of the odd, lightweight boats which line the edges of the docks. They are eager to teach and many seem to be delighted by the chance to tell stories of ancient weavers that their younger family members have tired of hearing.

LISTLE DIVING - At the farthest edges of the port there are high cliffs over deep waters. From these, local Hyrypians dive into the red tinted waves and go deep to the edge of stones to pry off clustered, barnacle like creatures. When they are brought up it is revealed that the secretions they use to glue themselves to the rock form translucent resins somewhat like amber which are tinted in a variety of colors. The divers are eager to teach those who wish to learn their skills --which isn’t you. Robes and water don't mix. Still, they are glad enough to talk and the diving is exciting to watch.

FISHING - The lightweight woven vessels are almost all at sea on these fine days, each one occupied by one or two anglers standing on the boats' broad bottoms. They dangle their swarms of lines away from the hustle and bustle of the shore; when they return to the docks with their prizes, the fishermen are perfectly willing to allow a couple of passengers along as they head back out for their next catch. The boats cut through the red waves using long pole-paddles. Once out on the water, the locals are happy to hand over their poles and teach you how to haul in the wriggling eel-like fish that seem to be the most common catch.

JEWELRY MAKING - In the high village there are numerous open stalls, some of which are occupied by jewelers, hard at work turning the resinous listle pearls into beads or hammering the half-hard portions is listle resin into fibers that are then spun into thread for weaving. Sea grass and metal are made into cords and chains. These artisans tend to have focus lines between their eyes and they talk less than many of the other craftsmen, but they will nevertheless hand over their delicate tools to teach the skills necessary to shape the valuable listle resin into art.

POTTERY - While the sea-grass is beloved - lightweight and shockingly sturdy -, it’s not nearly as abundant as the clay from the cliffs. The red tinge seems to be from the microbiol life that has given the water and the coast its rusted color, staining even the ground. In the stalls besides the jewelers, Hyrypian potters shape clay into anything from common flower pots to fine dishes. The off sideways spinning wheels have many open seats.

HUNTING - Where the Gryer and the Elin ruled the Graze, here there are the small scrappy goat-like Ridin. They are fleet and agile, capable of fitting into shockingly small spaces and disappearing behind rocks and scrub and trees. It’s no surprise then that the denizens of the Red Coast prefer hunting on foot with the help of Britt. The britt are small amphibious creatures with a passing resemblance to seals-- if seals moved like whippets. The Red Coast Hyrypians use them to drive the ridin out into the open where they can be brought down with small slings. They ridin are hunted for their meat as much as to keep them out of the small orchard of trees behind the manor where salty-sweet fruits are grown.

---

((OOC Notes: This log serves as a general catch-all for events from midday DAY :023 through DAY :027. Please feel free to create your logs outside of this one and be aware that there may be additional mod-driven posts/logs which occur within the timeframe of this log. Please be sure to review the MISSION: HYRYPIA ooc information to find setting information for the Red Coast. 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

Gildor | OTA

[perroquet]

❚❚❚❚❚ A. ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST.

[ A half-day's walk isn't something Gildor is at all prepared for. While most everyone seems ready to stretch their legs, he's still weary after waking up from a symbiotic coma. What's more, he's just discovered his symbiote's power, and it's cost - the loss of his innate drow-senses and magic.

The magic he can do without for now, but loosing his sensitivity to vibration is as cruel as cutting him off from any other sense. He knows from Lakshmi's experience that it should be a temporary thing, but that doesn't stop flighty panic from rising in his chest. It threatens to overheat him in his robes, and he walks among the crowd more slowly and timidly than he's ever done before. ]

( Is... is anyone nearby? I could very much use a guide and-- )

[ And some help, though the thought is cut off. He's bumped by a rider and topples to the ground in a sad crumple of robes and cloud of dust. The fright of falling shoots through the connection, hot and sharp. In and instant he fears for his hands, his wrists, and his robes - they can't accidentally come off with so many around to see. His staff is knocked out of his hands, and the rider - a Carpathan guard - either pretends not to notice or really doesn't. It's hard to tell with all the dirt still rising in the air as Gildor struggles to relocate his staff. ]

❚❚❚❚❚ B. BUSKIN MAKES ME FEEL GOOD.

1. [ After a full rest barracks, Gildor feels much more himself. His nerves have eased, his senses have returned, and so has his magic. Any scrapes or bruises leftover from the previous day have been healed away with the power of music, and from up high he can hear more coming from the village. It is so much like his village back home, and he finds himself whisked away into it before long.

He avoids the beach and docks, sticking to the market streets. And, unable to stand it anymore, he's brought his violin along. He hasn't been practicing on the road, and it's making his hands itch. If Damon can get away with carrying a raven around, there should be no issue of him claiming his violin is a delicate Carabauchan instrument that wasn't good in desert air.

He can be found playing in the markets, at different places during different days, trying not to encroach on the times and territories of other street musicians. One night he spends playing in a tavern, and another outside of a temple. Stop and have a listen to the music in his mind and on his fingertips, or maybe try to heckle. ]

2. [ He can also be found sequestered away, either in an alley or the back of a tavern, trying to sort and count the various... items left in his case. There isn't much in the way of coin, but pearls and beads abound. By the end of a day or so, he has more than he can keep track of. ]

( I'm honestly not sure what to do with all these. ) [ He muses, to no one in particular but those who may be listening. ] ( Our good Hyrypian hosts continue to provide us with so much. )

❚❚❚❚❚ C. NOT ALL THOSE WHO WANDER ARE...

[ Lost. He's gotten himself good and lost through the weaving back alleys of the seaside city, and firm reminder that he really isn't at home. When lost in a such a place, it is usually wise to head towards the water, and though he tries Gildor keeps getting turned around from it. He can tell from the temperature drop that it's dark, and he'll need to be getting back to the barracks soon.

An unusual bout of stubbornness has come over him. He doesn't want to ask for help again, and so he keeps wandering, the end of his staff rapping off the stone and reverberating through the alleyways in time with a rather furious song playing in his head. ]

❚❚❚❚❚ D. WILDCARD!

Despite his frustration at becoming lost, Gildor will be contentedly soaking up this village and feeling very at home. Feel free to tag him with anything else you like!

{ b - 2 }

[otrazhenie]

[ Elena has spent her day wandering the village, trying to forget about that red sea so close by and instead focusing on what activities there are to keep her occupied. But when she hears music that she recognizes, there's no stopping her from moving through the streets toward it, taking a spot far back from the crowd to listen to Gildor playing. It's strange to hear it with her ears rather than her mind, but it's just as beautiful. And when he retreats with his earnings, she follows him into that alley, watching to be sure no one else does as well. ]

( They have little shops here, there might be something in one of them that you'll enjoy. Maybe something to help pass the time when you can't play. )

[perroquet]

[ He felt Elena's presence in the small crowd that gathered, and when he finishes and bows and packs up his earnings, he isn't afraid of being followed. Not by her.

He kneels with his case open in front of him - the violin resting on one side while he sorts through the pearls and trinkets left in the other, sorting them into a leather bag at his hip. ]

( I'm not really sure I need anything. The Nest and our Hyrypian hosts have provided us with so much. )

[ Gildor isn't very materialistic, having carried everything he owned with him for most of his life. Normally he'd spend earnings on booze, but that isn't an option to him anymore. ]

( I would still love to peruse the market with you, just as soon as I've collected all these. Can you see if I've missed any?)

A

[skaikru]

( if she's too focused on her own walking to hear the gentle request for help, too honed in on keeping her own two feet under herself despite every potholes best attempt to send her stumbling, there's no way clarke can ignore the kneejerk panic of a fall with no foreseeable landing that gildor sends out like a distress beacon. it tugs at a sensation from just a few days ago, one foot going over the edge of the precipices far above the barithian hunt and tottering in that moment between flying and falling, and in an instant, she's snapping her head around for fear someone is about to call off some unseen cliff. what she sees instead, partially obscured by the meandering masses, is a bit of a scuffle. dust and fine dirt, a whirl of familiar, colorful robes.

and then clarke is moving, a bright blue bird flitting between people and bodies and riders; flying towards anxiety like she means to nest in it. when she reaches him, she drops into a crouch and immediately reaches for one frantically searching wrist. ) You're okay, ( comes the immediate comfort; a concentrated attempt to sound cool and reassuring, allowing her purposefully calm demeanor to bleed across the mental link — like a reassuring smile and nod, a brief embrace, a gentle squeeze of the hand, all meant to blanket that alarm and smother it.

his walking stick is a little further away, but well within arms reach if she leans onto one knee and twists sideways; close enough to keep fingers loosely tethered around gildor's wrist so as to tug his palm to the smooth wooden staff. )

( Here. Let me help you. )

( she'll pull him to his feet, if he'll allow it. )

[perroquet]

[ Someone is there, and swiftly. He hardly has a chance to listen for footsteps before there are hands around his shoulders and a voice speaking to him. A voice he doesn't recognize, but one of the Nest - the calming sensations that follow reassure him of that, and it helps begin the process of easing that scrambling panic. ]

Thank you- Oh, my sta- [ He doesn't even need to finish the sentence before it's pressed back into his hand, and the relief comes in waves. ]

Thank you, thank you so much, I-

[ He sits up on his knees, taking a moment to collect himself. The wordless offer to stand again is accepted, though he does gingerly, still shaken and sore in places. ]

( Sorry- it's been a long time since I was so embarrassed. That was- )

[ Frightening and unexpected, so cut off from his senses. Almost like being knocked from a cliff indeed. ]

a.

[detestable]

[ Whatever Seth has said about keeping his distance, Lakshmi's warnings have held a certain measure of truth: he can't block out his brood. He was subjected both to Gildor's awakening and the dual flares of relief from Lakshmi and Elena at his recovery. Even knowing that physical distance wasn't really getting the job done wasn't keeping Seth from trying.

Gildor's request pops into his head, then breaks off as he begins to fall. Seth has the vivid, disorienting sense that he's falling before he can separate himself from the vividness of the displaced sensation. Whatever intention he'd had of keeping away falls by the wayside as he crosses over to lift Gildor's staff, then bend to grip Gildor's arm as he glares after the rider. ]

Fuck you too, buddy.

[ It's pitched loud enough to carry, because Seth has never in life avoided a fight when one of his party has been wronged. The fact that he's acknowledging Gildor as his party is likely something Seth will be irritated about later. ]

Shit, you good? Nothing bleeding?

[ Seth starts dusting Gildor off brusquely. He hadn't meant to get this involved, and yet here he is. As usual. ]

[perroquet]

[ There's the sudden comfort of a broodmate at his side, though it is not as familiar as Lakshmi or Elena. For a moment Gildor hardly recognizes Seth - his connection is usually so much more standoff and wary than this. He's hardly reoriented himself before, much to his horror, he's being hauled roughly to his feet while Seth shouts curses after the rider. ]

Please don't, there's no need- [ He begs, meaning the shouting. While gratitude comes in waves over their connection, so does a strong insistence for passiveness. There's no need to create more conflict - a belief that's a conflict itself between the two of them. ]

I- yes, I think so- [ He starts, but it turns into a sharp hiss. His right wrist is sprained, just at he'd feared mid-fall. And the realization that he can't heal it right away is worse than the pain he tries to keep confined to his side of the link. Enough to make him say something very uncouth, whispered under his breath- ]

Oh bugger.

[ He leans on Seth a little more than he means to, still recovering from shock as he's roughly brushed off. ]

a.

[blooded]

❰ damon is not overly given to paying attention to those in the nest he does not consider either his or dangers. he listens when he must, but keeps to himself, elena, and sam otherwise, and elena disapproves, but that's how he's always been.

if gildor hadn't fallen, damon wouldn't have stepped in. he has plenty of friends in his brood and in the larger nest, he doesn't need damon's help getting around — but he does fall, and no matter his shields damon can feel the panic gildor feels as he topples, the fear both of being unmasked and of hurting himself. it's that fear that spurs damon to action, and he moves just a little more quickly than any normal human (or rabadocean, for that matter) could. ❱

Watch where you're walking, ❰ he hisses at the carpathan, but his attention is otherwise on gildor, whose staff damon hands over.

Anything broken? ❱

A!!!!!!

[gunlock]

[if he were anyone else, prompto would have a couple of choice words to offer to the carpathan guard. as it stands, this is prompto--and his main and immediate concern is at the call for help.]

( Hey, you okay? )

[the walking isn't something he's unused to, but everything is just that much harder with these robes. something about the way this man panics through the mental link, however, has electricity coursing through him as soon as the man drops to his knees.]

[prompto eyes the cane, and recognition of the circumstances befall him.]

[down on one knee, he ushers noctis--whom he was walking with--to keep on, that he'll catch up (because i gotta express how they're attached to the hip okay), and he's placing a hand onto the fallen man's back, gentle and friendly.]

( I got you, buddy. There's nothing to be worried about. )

[otrazhenie]

I { day :023 | the road + the village } i must have brought this on myself, 'cause i'm not where i want to be

[ After a few days on the opulent air ship, Elena can honestly say she's glad to be back on the ground. The road isn't easy, but it's better than being stuck with no way to run from a murderer should one come knocking at their door. There's still no one to blame for those deaths in the sauna and while she's trying to do her part and keep an eye on the other factions, she still has absolutely no idea who it might possibly be -- which unfortunately means being on guard all the time.

Her enhanced senses help make that a little easier, at least, and she's able to take in their surroundings on the journey. Along the way to their destination, she notes how those cliffs are so different from the Appalachians she climbed as a kid, the landscape nothing like back in Virginia. There's too much stone, the grass is the wrong color, the animals are strange. And yet, as they descend the winding road into the village, there's something about it that calls to her, perhaps because she grew up somewhere small and closeknit, just as this place seems to be. And then there's that welcome, the display of hospitality as the locals come out to greet them, and she graciously accepts the small gift offered to her. As one of the only things she now possesses as her own, she'll cherish it, admiring the small pearl on the pin before slipping it into her hair as soon as they're safely in their lodgings. ]

II { day :024-025 | around the village } and through the fight, i never really knew that i would find myself

[ Relax, they'd said. Take in the history of the village. So that's what she does. For two days, Elena wanders the village, taking in the sights and sounds, listening to the stories told by the craftsmen and perusing the wares for sale. She has nothing to barter with, but there isn't much that she needs here, so she just enjoys the displays of life and purpose.

Happening across the jewelry and pottery stands, she considers the invitation to take part in their creation herself, but ultimately declines -- artistic efforts were never her forte, but she does enjoy watching the artisans and her fellow hosts work at making the lovely pieces. It's when she finds the fishermen that she steps forward, the physical activities soothing as it requires concentration, effort, and doesn't require that there be an artistic bone in her body. In fact, she proves to be pretty good at following the directions of the fishermen, and it's easy for her to pull in the fish with her enhanced strength. The work leaves her feeling fulfilled, though being out on the water begins to take its toll on her by the end of the second day. ]

III { day :026 | by the sea } i know that if i get to know my pain, i unlock a hundred different doors to better days

[ Sitting beside a sea the color of old blood, the sound of water drifts through the air around Elena, wearing away at her soul the way the waves have worn the stones here. Twenty-six days, her heart reminds her; almost four weeks have passed since that night. Four weeks of avoiding really thinking about it, not letting herself fully grieve. Perhaps it's the peace of the last few days that lets it happen now, whereas every other time those emotions were cut short by one thing or another. Here and now, she's run out of things to keep herself occupied and her thoughts keep wandering back to that singular fact:

Twenty-six days ago, she died.

The rock she's settled on has been cleared of algae, brushed off so nothing stains her robes, though it does nothing for her comfort. That's not something she's concerned with, of course, and no matter how uncomfortable it might be, she doesn't leave that spot for hours, just sitting there beside the water, staring out and trying hard to keep her sorrow and grief safely muffled behind her watery shields. It doesn't always work though, and she has to hope that the only people who notice it are the ones who won't really care. She has to work through this, has to feel these things if she ever wants a chance at living a better kind of life. ]

IV { day :027 | various places }

[ WILDCARD OPTION. Do the thing. ]

iii

[blooded]

❰ elena needs time to grieve. not that damon is a great arbiter of what elena needs, half the time, but there are some things that don't require a great deal of intuition or personal insight to figure out. her life's been pretty non-stop since she arrived on the station, and she hasn't had an opportunity to really mourn herself, or ric, or all of the other people she's lost by being dragged into this whole mess. she needs time to herself to sort through her emotions, to cry, if she wants to, and damon's pretty sure she wouldn't want him around for that.

even still, he can't leave her alone. he stays in the barracks, but his mind is with elena, and as she tries to muddle through her grieving process alone, he gives just the barest nudge to the back of her head, a little i'm here, you're not alone, i love you for her to hold onto while she feels all the things she needs to feel. ❱

SHIRO | OTA

[shiro2hero]

1) ARRIVAL
[His mind is a million miles away, as the group enters the city. Just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. On staying upright and making it from point A to point B. His mind and expression clouded over.]

[He also has not noticed the flowers and bits of jewelry tucked into folds of his robes. Apparently, it's becoming a game with a few younger members of the crowd -- see how many flowers they can throw at the tall figure in black before he notices.]

[... it's a lot. There are a lot. And Shiro hasn't so much as noticed a petal.]


2) HOUSING
Everyone make it all right?

[There were people in comas, after all. Someone has to make sure they got to their destinations safely. And the semi-private housing seems like as good a time as any to do it.]

[Or maybe he's ducking into wherever you are, knocking first, of course, to check in personally.]

[Or you've stumbled onto the black-garbed young man sacked out on a bed, just plain dropped down asleep. He's... probably been awake since the murders. Do you wake him? Maybe this was the bed you wanted, oops.]


3) BEACH
[It's been a long time since he's seen an ocean. Even an alien one. He can't honestly remember the last time he had. But after the hot springs, and all the assorted nonsense there, he's not even going to try and shed even part of the disguise. Not even when the sun starts to set and the beach starts to clear.]

[The man dressed all in black has found a rock, using it as a bench to watch the sunset. Or the waves, depending on what time of day you run into him. His brain is quiet, closed-off. Nothing but a field of stars, if interrupted.]

[There's a lot to think about, despite how calm he seems.]


4) GOOD ... DOG?
Whoa!

[Someone was just minding his own business, probably following another member of the Nest around, as befit a bodyguard. The role he was playing here. But something has barreled into the mix. Catching him off-guard. This time, it's not in a bad way.]

[It's a seal... dog? Thing? And is apparently friendly.] Hi there?

5) wildcard!
[Choose your own adventure!]

{ 2 }

[otrazhenie]

[ Shiro's not the only one who's been taking stock of their group, making sure everyone is safe and sound, though Elena does it by wandering around and silently checking her list rather than knocking on doors and being overt about it. For the most part, anyway -- there are of course a few who she makes a special effort to seek out.

She doesn't expect to find Shiro passed out cold on a bed, still fully dressed in his costume. That can't be comfortable. But since she doesn't want to startle him (she's not sure how he might react to being woken that way), she's not going to try to fix that little problem while he's sleeping. Instead, she kneels beside the beside and carefully places a hand on his arm, giving a very gentle nudge along their connection. If he doesn't wake easily, she'll leave him be. ]

3) Life's a Beach

[manyminds]

[Night creeps its way over the pilgrimage and locals turn on the lights that border pathways throughout the village so no-one will lose their way, a quiet calm replacing the distant sounds of lively conversation. The sea, as if mimicking the night sky that so often graces the surface of the waters with its glittering reflection, begins to glow softly as whatever luminescent creatures within--likely some kind of plants, but who can say--begin to stir.

It's a beautiful sight, but ultimately one that Keya doesn't stop to appreciate as she walks down off a path and onto the sand. The young farana is far too busy huffing out exasperated breaths and muttering none-too-kind imitations of certain backward-minded members of her entourage to even acknowledge how pretty the scenery is, much less whether or not anyone else is on the beach.]

"Best wait outside, young Keya, before you make a fool of yourself again, huh huh huh."

[She finds a rock--the right size, but not quite the right shape to be a proper skipping stone--and makes a futile effort to send it skidding across the water. It just kerplunks sadly into the waves and she continues in her grumbling, looking for another rock.]

Why even bring me if I can't be trusted to keep my mouth shut? "Oh, Keya, of course you can join us on the pilgrimage, it'll be good to witness such an historic event, a meeting of so many cultures--but don't talk, please." Hmph!

[She hucks another, bigger rock, resulting in another, bigger kerplunk.]

ota.

[deployed]

( arrival / barracks )

[ Their reception into the village remind Bellamy of the ribbon festival on Concordia. Even so, the festive reception doesn't completely ease Bellamy's unease at having progressed further on the pilgrimage or about their hosts. The villagers seem earnest. Their village is idyllic. It's what Bellamy had once wanted for his people. Arkadia could have built something like this and maybe they still would. Hands filled with small statues of animals he doesn't recognize and flowers, Bellamy feels the pang of homesickness so acutely it steals his breath.

In the barracks, he lets the items tumble to the bed before pushing his veils back and taking a deep breath. The Darkling's second slip into a coma and the aftermath of his arguments with Murphy, Clarke and Lexa had rattled him. Bellamy recognizes that even as he strives to keep the unsteadiness of his emotions in check. ]

I'm surprised there isn't a feast. [ Bellamy comments. ] That kind of celebration seems to be a part of this pilgrimage.

[ He plucks a small, dog-like statue from the little pile on his bed. ]

Anyone recognize these?

( seaside )

[ Bellamy's explorations have taken him inevitably to the ocean. He's thinking of Luna's people as he watches the divers. There had barely been time as they'd desperately made their pleas to Luna to appreciate the sea itself. If he could, Bellamy would have joined the divers. There is a deep-seated craving in him to learn everything about this little village, in hopes of someday recreating it on Earth.

Eventually, he strays to watch the weavers by the docks. Their work is very fine. Bellamy crouches to touch the finished project when offered. He can't feel anything through his gloves, but when he tests it between his thumbs he finds the woven grass is strong and unyielding. ]

It's good, [ Bellamy tells the weaver in question, admiring, before catching sight of another robed figure arriving. ]

( Want to switch places? I haven't taken a turn with the fisherman yet. )

[ And out of all the skills on display, fishing is the one most likely to come in handy when (if) he ever manages to return home. ]

( wildcard )

[ do whatever, i'm game. ]

closed.

[deployed]

[ As Bellamy had walked through town, he'd drawn to a stop by the jewelry makers stands. The crafters were quiet, which has suited Bellamy just fine. Unlike his time spent by ocean, the production of jewelry wasn't a necessity. Possessions like the necklaces and bangles had never really entered into Bellamy's mind as an option, let alone something he would take time to explore or purchase. But he comes away with three items impulsively acquired and tucked into the folds of his robes. ]

( murphy )

[ Though the links between their minds are still shaky, Bellamy's able to reach out and tug lightly on the red-drenched line between his mind and Murphy's. It leads him back down to the seaside, where Murphy is stood watching the water. Bellamy is quiet as he joins him, careful of the hem of his robes as he takes the place beside Murphy. ]

Are you going to watch the weavers or join the fisherman?

[ As Bellamy poses the questions, his arms cross. He's never given a gift to anyone but Octavia. He's not sure how to proceed from here. Part of him thinks he'd have been better off just putting the beaten resin cuff on Murphy's pillow. ]

( clarke )

[ Like Murphy, it's not difficult to find Clarke. She's a beacon. His feet take him from the seashore to the town, back through the small cluster of shops to find her outside the barracks. ]

Do you have a minute?

[ His voice is steady. The veils make this harder than it should be. Bellamy picks up so much of Clarke from her facial expressions. Even the link between their minds can't supplement that. At least inside the barracks, they'll be able to push the veils back. ]

( lexa )

[ Giving Lexa anything wouldn't be simple, even if they hadn't quarreled in the desert. Or so Bellamy suspects. His own inexperience in gift-giving and his assumption that Lexa would have taken anything offered as her due rather than a gesture. The disconnect between their perceptions gives them trouble at the best of times.

Rather than stall, Bellamy lets the familiar beat of Lexa's mind draw him through the village. It is a blessing to find her observing the potters alone, rather than having to extricate her from villagers or other members of the Nest. (If there was anyone he should have just left the necklace for and gone, it was probably Lexa.) He takes the seat beside her, as he had done at the Naerstone house, and sets the necklace itself on her knee.

Apologies aren't really Bellamy's forte. This is the best he can do for an opener, though he isn't expecting a warm welcome. ]

barracks / wildcard (day after arrival)

[perroquet]

Well, I for one, am grateful for the feasting break. [ Gildor comments back, pulling the violin case off his shoulders. He's been down in the village, busking and playing wherever he's welcome to. He loves it, but another feast would mean more playing, and his hands need a rest. That, and the alcohol present at feasts is still a problem. He knows he need not mention it - Bellamy is well aware of his feelings and struggles with it.

Bellamy seems in as need of a distraction as ever - his mind is secure from Gildor's prying concern, though there is undoubtedly a sense of stress making the edges of the mental link fray. ]

May I? [ He sits and slips a glove off - lace fingertips almost worn to holes - and holds a calloused hand out to inspect the object Bellamy asks of. ]

barracks!

[gunlock]

Don't think I could do with another feast.

[prompto manages to garble out through the layers of mask and cloak that he pushes off his head, nonchalantly tossing the top part of his mandatory disguise onto a corner. he's not an organized kind of guy, and to be honest, these garbs were kind of suffocating for a guy who likes no sleeves on his shirts.]

What happens if we get food poisonin'?

[but the grin on his face offers that he's asking a question that needs no answer--at least he isn't really seeking one--as he turns and looks over at the dog-statue]

Looks like a dog, but not-quite.

[he chooses a bed, dropping down with a happy sigh and arms stretched out]

Keya | OTA

[manyminds]

DAY 024: SETTLING A DEBT ((note: first come first serve; feel free to hijack but let’s try to keep this in one thread for continuity))

[Determined and perhaps too-intense eyes are staring at the Carbauschians from not too far away. Now. Now was the time to take action. She couldn’t put it off any longer or it’d drive her absolutely mad.

A young farana, ignoring the extra helpings of breakfast food her aunt is heaping onto her plate, pushes herself to her feet. As she approaches she fully embodies the determination that reflects in her eyes. This is the Descendant that Lavellan gave their life to save. She approaches the nearest Carbauschian, then looks at the second nearest, and the third, and...her determination falters.]

Ahem...is one of you the leader? [She blinks rapidly and clears her throat again.] Do you…have leaders?

ARTS AND CRAFTS! ((free for all! make friends! or enemies! who knows!!))

[Keya is bound to partake in a few of the available tasks, though considering how it went last time she’s probably going to pass on hunting.

She won’t need much coercing to join someone in sea weaving, jewelry making, or pottery. The farana seems fairly eager to be on your good side.]

door #1

[deployed]

Not in the same way you'd expect.

[ Which sounds suitably vague. And diplomatic enough not to ruffle any feathers. ]

Why? What do you need?

[ It's hard to tell if kindness translates well with so much of him covered by cloth. They'd gotten on well enough so far, but the obvious nervousness makes Bellamy wish he could have do more to alleviate it. ]

arts & crafts

[wrackful]

[Murphy isn't specifically looking for her. Bellamy had handled the matter well enough, left it open as an opportunity without locking them into any one thing in particular. But there's still a lingering curiosity, a sense of more knowledge only being beneficial in the long run. So when he sees her watching the sea weaving, he can't think of any harm in coming to stand alongside her and starting a conversation.]

Hey. It's Keya, right?

arts&crafts after her thread with shiro; hopefully it isn't too late to tag this

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Sam's honestly interested in the jewelry making he's attempting to learn, but he'd be lying if he said that he hadn't also been keeping an eye out for Keya whenever he'd come out to the village or the seaside. Absently at first, but after Shiro'd told him about meeting her, he'd gotten a little more serious about it.

It's not often that Shiro's able to goof around and laugh like that, and maybe it's silly, but Sam still wants to thank her.

He smiles when he sees her before he remembers that she can't see it, settling instead on stepping away from his half-finished attempt at a chain of sea glass to approach her. ]

Keya, hi. How are you doing?

prompto / ota

[gunlock]

A. AN OCEAN OF MEMORIES

[the smell of the ocean calls to him. the first time he ever saw the ocean outside the walls of insomnia was galdin quay, but the past ten years had been rough on the once beautiful seaside resort. to be able to see the ocean, again, under the sun, is something prompto wishes to capture with his camera; to feel the grainy sand between his toes, the sting of the salty water in his eyes, the burn of the sun on his skin.]

[but none of that is something he can have, not now, if he is to follow along with the necessary rules of their mission.]

[prompto can be found by the shore of the beach on his haunches, pressing down on the sand, letting the rolling waves wet his shoes and robes.]

( So romantic... )

[at least ten years of darkness didn't take away his penchant for saying (or thinking) the most random of things that came to mind. he sighs to himself, and he'll be here until sunset unless someone stops him, trying to drink in the sun.]

B. RESTING AT THE BARRACKS

[prompto's taken command of one of the beds, quick to discard robes and shoes onto a pile. he's also stolen at least four to six other pillows from the other beds to make himself comfortable.]

[in his fort of pillows, he lies, checking through his camera's pictures]

[at anyone walking in, he'll lift his head up and offer a wave with his hand]

Oh, hey.

[but immediately back to his camera.]

C. HUNT OR BE HUNTED

[find prompto out in the hunting area, trying very desperately to climb a tree for a better vantage point. he'd much rather summon his gun from noctis' magic dimensional space, but they've got to keep appearances, right? and so slingshot it is.]

[it's not that he's bad, but getting used to this new type of weapon-type is A Thing to deal with.]

[he reaches the top, and is now aiming around, looking a lot like a fool and less like someone who knows what they're doing. the denizens of the red coast, standing a ways away just laugh to themselves at this foolish endeavor.]

[that is, until prompto shoots down one ridin on its tracks]

Bullseye, baby!

[maybe tone it down with the victory whooping, prompto]

D. WILDCARD

[anything goes!]

a

[shiro2hero]

[The ocean is nice and out of the way. Even if the water is strange, it's loud enough to drown out a lot of thoughts. A lot of the negative kind -- those tending to crop up the longer Bucky is unconscious and Sam is worried and Pidge is, by default, caught up in the whole mess.]

[And the longer this mission doesn't make sense. He's parked himself on a rock, up out of the water -- still dressed all in black, watching the tide roll in. Up until another "voice" flicks through his head.]

(Sorry?)

[Whoops. He hadn't even realized someone else was on the beach.]

(Interrupting something?)

b.

[detestable]

You leave any of those for the rest of us?

[ Seth's bed is missing a pillow. He hasn't exactly settled on retaliation yet. Is it going to be easier to reclaim a pillow from Prompto's pile, or should he just take one from one of the beds that have gone un-pillaged? ]

What are you wasting time in here for anyway?

[ Sight-seeing isn't exactly Seth's bag, but he's enjoying the town. It's quiet. Peaceful. Seth suspects they aren't going to have a whole lot of stops like this coming up. ]