station72 | [hatch log] i had a dream which was not all a dream

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[hatch log] i had a dream which was not all a dream

CHARACTERS: New Hosts & EVERYONE
WHERE: Station 72; Hyrypia - The Red Coast
WHEN: DAY :025 - DAY :026
SUMMARY: Somewhere deep in the void between multiverses, a fresh clutch of Hosts hatches; getting them down to Hyrypia proves to be more complicated than usual.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. Need a warning added? PM this account please!

STATION 72
DAY :025

NEW HATCHES
YOU WAKE UP and the universe and you in it are suddenly different. --No. That's not right. You're you, the universe is as it's always been, and there's no 'suddenly' about it. But it's been a while, hasn't it? It feels like waking up from a very deep, extended sleep or coming up from the darkness of some wine dark sea. Nothing is different and yet everything is.

Here you are, a small miracle of the multiverse: lying in a small, faintly hexagonal chamber with a gentle white light emanating from the surrounding walls. If you were injured during your escape, those injuries have been healed. If you were anxious or frightened or distraught, those feelings have been calmed. There's something peaceful about waking up here - like you belong. That feeling persists even as you find the tube running from the base of your neck to the compartment's rear wall.

But once the tube's disconnected? Things get loud. A wave of emotion fills that peaceful void - fear, uncertainty, relief, a sense of purpose or loneliness or anxiety. A matching dread. An easy comfort. Some of these emotions might be yours, but they can't all be. After the initial sensory overload, the mental buzz elongates: stretches out into a murmur like the sound of a party happening behind a nearby closed door.

You can sit up - barely -, and shift out of the pod. There’s a ladder at your feet and a little cubby just before it with anything you brought with you as well as a set of crisp, loose-fitting white clothes; while your injuries are healed, whatever you’re wearing is in the exact state it was before. Maybe it's time for a change? Drop down the ladder to the floor of the Nesting Deck and you’ll find you’re not alone. There are a handful others very like you here, all of them somehow intimately familiar.

Welcome to Station 72. Beyond this room, the vast Station is quiet and still. It feels for all the world like a shell for some vast dark thing.

Eventually, a sensation manifests out of the hollowness:

PREPARE YOURSELF
THE VOICE IN YOUR HEAD is sound and sensation: a brilliantly warm shaft of sunlight through smoky glass - a gauzy curtain twitching in some summer breeze - the blooming pleasure of a familiar face after a very long time away. It says or feels like:

( Come meet with me, won't you? )
Where exactly this meeting is supposed to occur isn't immediately clear, but head in the direction that seems correct and eventually Station 72 gets you where you're meant to be: a small grassy lawn in the center of the lush, circular gardens where an aging woman waits on a stone bench. The pin straight sheet of her hair hangs like a graying curtain and the sensation from her is lovely and golden, real delight pouring through her like light through a pinhole camera. She smiles and sets aside the book in her lap.

"There you are. Unfortunately, you won't be here long but we'd like to answer as many of your questions as we're able before you leave this place."

THE STATION
WITH A LITTLE UNDER 24 HOURS before it's time to make the trip to Hyrypia, this is as good an opportunity as you're going to get to familiarize yourself with Station 72 before you leave it. There's plenty to see, but other than the people you woke up with there's a distinct lack of company to make conversation with. It's lonely and quiet and there's a sensation of dust gathering even where there is none. Maybe studying the briefing files on your databank is the most proactive distraction? Otherwise-- well there's plenty of places to get lost...

By the simulated morning, a strange archaic ship has arrived on the Hangar. Its very alien pilots are in the process of unloading-- bodies. No, scratch that, they're clearly still alive, though in some kind of comatose state. One of the pilots - a pale female alien who calls herself Rhan - says, "Well, this is awkward. We were supposed to be done with this already. Uh don't mind us, darling. We'll finish up here and get on our way. In the meantime, why don't you go through your packs and get changed?"

She nods toward two trunks on the hangar deck where assortment of pre-prepared packs are waiting for each new Host. In each pack is a series of items, including a set of beautiful and very all-encompassing robes. Better get comfortable. Not hot on the fabrics or patterns in your pack? Mixing and matching with your new best friends is totally acceptable.

Eventually, you leave the Station. If you're lucky, you might one day make it back.

HYRYPIA - THE RED COAST
LATE DAY :026

A PURPOSEFULLY SUBTLE WELCOME
UNDER THE COVER OF DARKNESS, Collector and Lyr make their way through the barracks where the Hosts on Hyrypia are meant to be sleeping. It's nearing whatever the Hyrypian equivalent of midnight is; if you're awake, all the better. If not? Expect to be roused (gently and silently by Collector, rudely and abruptly by Lyr).

"Get dressed. We're going for a walk."

There's nothing quite so suspicious as bringing a bunch of reinforcements to the planet in the aftermath of a rather public murder, which means a highly ritualized midnight procession of Carbasuchians into the highlands. It's easier to secret a handful of newbies in an anonymous group, right?

That meeting in the dead of night in the rocky wilderness above the Red Coast bears even a passing resemblance to the strange occurrence on DAY :010 is probably just a coincidence. Besides, there aren't any mystery circles burned into the stone and grass here: just a stealth ship materializing out of the black night and touching down in a stony outcropping where it disgorges the freshly hatched (or newly reawakened) Hosts.

((OOC Notes: This log covers the hatch on Day :025 as well as the arrival of new Hosts on Hyrypia late on Day :026. Feel free to make your own logs and posts additional to this if you care to. You can find additional information pertaining to the Red Coast on the previous mission log (located here); newbies are welcome to utilize that log as well as it occurs within the same time period as the hatch.

You can find a more detailed overview of the host hatching process HERE and additional setting information about the Station HERE. Please be sure to review the MISSION: HYRYPIA ooc information if you're brand new to the game. If you have any questions, please hit up either the mission's question thread, the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages!))

NAVIGATION • GAME CALENDAR • MISSION: HYRYPIA • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

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I'm fine.

[ Being in the middle of an existential crisis aside, anyway. It's been a weird couple of days.

He feels a little awkward about it, as he drops the stance and resheathes his weapons, but it's less about having that kind of reaction and more that he let himself be surprised enough to go through with it. He expects better of himself.

So, awkward change of subject it is. Or awkward return to the original subject, as the case may be. ]

But, er...yes, I'm new. To go back to that.

Is that normal? The...going back to sleep?

[ That, after all, sounds very much like "I was out of it like all of the pod people" rather than "I was catching a quick catnap. ]

[prompto immediately offers a gloved hand]

Prompto Argentum.

It's kinda rough at first. A lot of noise in your head, huh? Guess you were briefed before coming here though.

(It's just the right thing to do.)

[As he sees it, anyway. And so far, he's had no reason to deviate from it.]

(But you're welcome.)

Oh, boy...

[ Pidge clicks her tongue. There's a lot. Where does she even start? She wants to help, but there's a lot to run through. After a moment, she rubs her chin through her veil. ]

Uh - help me out. What do you already know?

I'm not a technomage. I'm just really good with tech.

[ PIdge glances up at Darlene with a shrug and just a hint of defensiveness. She's good at what she does and she's very proud of that fact. She rolls a shoulder and steps up to the terminal, fingers moving in a little type-type motion as she's preparing for the plunge. ]

I was able to talk to one of the Seconds, actually. He showed me how some of their stuff worked. A lot of it is gears and clockwork, actually - which is different from what I'm used to, but the principles are basically the same. You need an input and the input has to do something and then the machine has to do the work for you. Kinda like Babbage's analytical engine, right?

I'm sorry.

[The answer is immediate. Immediate and honest. Worn around the edges. It's another world -- another Earth. He can't imagine how it feels.]

[But it reminds him of someone who would. Of Allura... of her slow realization her world, her entire life was gone. "I'm Sorry" feels completely inadequate. But it's all he can think to give that will be sincere.]

I hope when you get back... there's more left than you think.

[ Misato casts one last lingering glance down the hallway, before stepping into the room and sliding the door closed to lock it with the rudimentary bolt. ]

Saying something doesn't make it true.

[ Team player or not. It will just have to be seen. The strangest realization that has come to her since the days of coming to with the sound of other minds in her head, is how vast the difference between one's inner and outer selves might be. That's assuming good intent, which is already scarce.

She walks over to where Darlene stands, peering over to check out the screens that, frankly make no sense to her. ]

If you show me how you got this far, I'll help you find the Nectar.

[ The moment of silence that stretches after his words could have been filled with anything. Hope for that future he describes, fear that it won't come to pass. Grief for loved ones lost or longing for someone left behind. She feels none of those things, though -- What fills that space between them is an apathy she almost doesn't believe herself. ]

I don't want to go back. Not to that.

[ The impression of a rounded metal room rises up before she can stop it, the cold shine of the curved panels slipping through the cracks of her shields before she can stop them. An equally cold metal table. A row of polished surgical instruments laid out on a tray.

It's post-traumatic stress making her feel this way, someone whispers in her mind, an echo only she can hear. A concerned friend whose human counterpart hadn't come to save her until it was too late. She closes a door in his face and chooses to live another day without facing that problem. ]

[Honestly, he should have noticed the signs. The potential flags. But he'd gotten sidetracked. Wanted to understand. To know more. Too kind, they all say, like it's some kind of curse.]

[His shields aren't as solid as they had been, in order to show her his world, his space. So when her memories surface, his own surge up to meet them with jagged teeth and the squeal of metal and the tang of sterilized tools.]

[... while they're held down, strapped down, fighting but it's useless. Metal underneath, restraints biting. Pleading for someone to listen, you came to them for help, but they're stinging, they're studying and staring and you're like a science project ...]

[Cold washes through him. The memories pulling him down, and threatening to drown, trying to feed off what she's given them before he can try to clamp down on his own head again.]

( John. )

[ His name breathes out of her, warm and familiar. There are not many she genuinely finds comforting, or wants to accept comfort from but then there is him. Her relationships with his brood have flared and faded with intensities, but here he is to steady her. She remembers reaching up out of the cold, lonely sleep on Concordia and encountering his support before she even knew who he really was; a hand catching her at the precipice.

She comes over to him across the sand. Her restrained chill discarded in favor of her genuine pleasure to find him here. ]

Hello, John.

[ She looks off at nothing for a moment. ]

It is. It is more unusual to awaken again, but some of us do.

[ Oh yes. She is how they will all end up, if they allow themselves. The question has been asked: who will be the next Cathaway? And there is no question at all that it will be Ilde. Coming to the Hive from her backwards, superstitious, and broken world had defied everything she had ever been taught. It had created a vacuum of purpose in her that needed to be filled. Her vulnerability had made her quite susceptible to the pull of the Nest. But she sees this as a fair exchange: with malleability comes power. ]

I am, quite at peace. I have not always been so, this is a difficult new life to take on.

[ She would never lie about that. Her brood is gone now, and it had been horrible, painful, losing them all one by one. Many of her friends are likewise gone back to sleep, the base she thought she had been building for herself stripped away -- but then that had again made the embrace of the Hive all the more appealing, hadn't it. ]

It takes each of us our own time and our own ways, to acclimate.

( What makes it 'the right thing'? )

[ This is a question of total innocence. Her own personal conception of right and wrong is... fractured, and now that she has tread deeper into the Next, she is now only further exposed to many different versions of the concept, rather than one central belief. ]

[ Ah, she wants to show this irritating little thing his place. Instead she looks away with a faint, obtuse little smile. ]

The reasons why we fall and rise are not known. Some plants simply do not make it. Others need another season to sprout.

[ Ilde. Don't talk about people like plants, you're showing your hand. ]

[ She steps back without even a flinch of irritation, letting the other woman approach her doorway, to peer inside.

A green pathway winds through walls of tall grass. The wildness of the long grasses gives the illusion that the space inside is much larger than it is. Barely visible from here, from between trees and fronds, is central clearing with a grass knoll and a few rocks where Ilde sleeps and entertains her guest. ]

There are fresh fruit and vegetables as well, if you are hungry.

[ She does not mention what herbs she does have and their effects. That was something she preferred to keep to herself. No one needed to know every weapon at her disposal. She'd been taught that well by another host. ]

[ Joy isn't really a feeling that Sam's used to coming off of new Hosts, but it's a good one anyway. And it draws Sam in a little, even if he'd been planning on coming to say hi anyway.

It echoes in him, with just how much better he feels now that his broodmate's awake.

His mind is shielded, a layer of soft clouds and a faint rush of wind, and he keeps it that way even when he approaches her. It's overwhelming, the first days of being in the Nest, and he doesn't want to add to that. Still, the brush of his mind is welcoming. ]

A lot to take in, huh?

[ Normally, Sam keeps his mind closed down even further when there's a new hatch, trying to keep the noise they can't filter out yet to a minimum. Keeps himself calm and steady, quiet -

But when he feels the mind of a new Host pressing at his, curious and demanding, seeking to study and know, Sam raises an eyebrow a little.

He's been here too long to bristle, really, especially with how good of a mood he's in with his broodmate awake again. Instead his mind opens up a little in an invitation, an easy response to what do you know.

( You wanna see for yourself? )

[The memory of pain is visceral enough that Darlene has to resist the urge to touch her fingertips against her own eye. Cold, and blood, everything half dark. Thinking his thoughts puts a taste in her mouth like hot blacktop tar in the summer, like licking ash off a cigarette. Bitter, guilt, self-loathing.

Just what she fucking needs.]

Yeah? I have zero experience. Which means mean I am not super psyched about it myself. Seriously, dude, lay off.

[That sense of better than this vibes harmonious with Darlene's steez. As tough as it is to wade through the shit he's giving her, she has that to dig into. Tough, determined, and fuck asking for help: that's Darlene. The survivor. Rotten underbelly, firm face. Once she's gotten her feet under her and feels less like her eyeball is going to pop out of her face, she can look at his eye. The robot one. She nods, short, at that side of his face.]

What's it do?

[Small talk. She's browsing, getting a feel for this. Keep her walls up and test his.]

[Noctis is the same, in a lot of ways. He is not eloquent with his words, or even his body language -- but if there is one thing that affords him clarity, a sharpness of reality, it is the adrenaline that spikes during a fight. Sparring, cleaving monsters in two, hunting. In that way, he could relate.

But he is just as content to bathe in the glow of the sun reflected off of the redness of the sea. It's alien but warm. Oddly comforting to Noctis' eyes.]

Yeah, not many see it the way I do at home, either. They... Well, I'm pretty sure they think it's kind of boring.

[But it's said with a laugh. Curiosity sparks further.]

What was it like, where you grew up?

Weaving lessons, huh...

[He honestly never even thought of taking weaving lessons. He assumed he'd be useless at it, and whatever monstrosity he created would be nothing short of an embarrassment.]

Why? Because we're all connected?

I make smaller webs, with little things I find on the Station.

[ Old spaceship parts no one is using, forgotten trinkets, strips of discarded fabric. Making something out of nothing, a physical impression of all the lost hosts she won't ever meet. ]

Each host, in each brood, is unique... [ Her fingers make a skittery little walking gesture, like a spider traversing a slender strand. ] And each connection, brood to brood, is unique...

[ Like snowflakes. She thinks it is beautiful, powerful. The tone of her voice is fond. ]

Edited 2017-12-12 21:21 (UTC)

[ The intensity's a little funny — but it isn't difficult to remember how things had felt when it was all fresh. Mat's been pointedly avoiding thoughts about home and what's become of it. There's a note of discomfort in his response, the way this kid's more determined to seek justice (or revenge) than he's been since he stepped foot on the station. ]

( Whether they learn or they don't, I guarantee you they'll be getting a headache. )

[ Humor, sort of. It's half-hearted. ]

( Is it just you? From your world. )

[ Mat narrows his eyes slightly, giving the impression that he's putting serious thought into his answer. The grin's never completely gone, though. ]

You look like a smart girl, and a smart girl's only nice when it's worth her while.

[ Half a tease and mostly a compliment, and he offers her a hand — still gloved — to shake a beat after. ]

I'm Mat Cauthon.

[ Before they resort to calling each other 'boy' and 'girl' forever. ]

[ Her laugh echoes his, because sometimes even she had thought of fishing as boring. But that was before. Before she'd been hurt, before the world had turned to ash, before all she'd wanted was a little peace. It's something she hasn't had in a long time. ]

Honestly? I loved living in the South for the way everyone was easygoing and took the time to enjoy life. Sitting on sprawling porches talking for hours, church picnics every week. But... for all the talk of southern hospitality and loving thy neighbor, they could be a really darn prejudiced bunch of people.

[ The whole world had turned out to be full of prejudiced people in the end. Folks who were scared of anyone different and turned to violence to deal with that fear. She brushes aside those thoughts after a moment and turns back to something positive. ]

We had really good food, though. Comfort food, people called it. Fried, spicy, filling, and oh so delicious.

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[hatch log] i had a dream which was not all a dream

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II

wildcards!!

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