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

[onemind]

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 )

Comments

[lifewithoutrest]

It seems so, yes. Those of us hatched most closely together.

[ Or so she assumes. ]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Long as Sam's got any say in it, she can sure as hell count on him for all of the above. He's maybe only known her for about ten minutes, but he's already figured she could use more reasons to laugh, and damned if he doesn't want to give them to her.

He hums in consideration to her question. It should be an easy one, but, well. Nothing's easy in the Nest. ]

Time gets harder to keep track of when you're jumping planets, and it doesn't work like usual on the Station. But this is my third mission - technically, I'm another of those that got dropped in the middle of a mission for my first one.

[raw]

[ Assassination. Quiet murder. These are not exactly concepts Elliot is unfamiliar with, but they're also not something he's often exposed to. In his world it's guns, sudden and loud and jarring, more likely in a public place than the privacy of your own sanctum. So while he sees this demonstration of Joshua's capability, he doesn't try and pick it up, try and learn it the way he's offering his own skills to learn. It feels too distasteful, somehow, especially when— ]

( Seriously? You seem like just a kid. )

[ Kids hate to be told they're just kids, so he kind of regrets saying that immediately, but he still means it: the guy doesn't look old enough to have that kind of skill. But the memories are right there, and he can't deny it. ]

( But I guess you can handle yourself. That's good. Makes it easier to work together. )

[aluminumandash]

[ He watches the ember die out, the dark fill in the hole pricked in it. ] Information. [ Offhand, almost smooth. She wants to keep this transactional, that suits him fine—he's spent nights enough haggling over words, half-remembered faces, the price you wanted to hang on a high.

In the moments before she responds, his mind grazes hers—light but purposeful, a little bit of a charge like static electricity. ]

[incinerates]

[ Bakugo Katsuki, champion of escalation and patron saint of miscommunication. ]

Uh. Th-- thanks? [ What the heck happened. ] It's just what I was taught.

[ Was he reading the entire conversation wrong ( yes )? Or was the music-man and his constant psychic string-playing agreeing with him, about death and the children who were here on the ground, in the thick of it. He's experienced death ( a grandmother; an old teacher -- ), and he knows about violence ( fingers around his throat, one digit away from rotting the flesh from bone; his hero, diminishing and bleeding out before him -- ) and neither are something he wants to see again. By default, it extends to the others in the nest. ]

Bakugo, [ his voice has grown quieter now, not a mumble, but something more subdued: ] Who are... you?

[incinerates]

[ Visualization, he can work with that.

Maybe.

Bakugo takes a moment to give it a shot, to pull his elbows in towards his ribs and curl his fingers in towards his palms. Less relaxed, more ready for a full-on brawl at any given moment. He makes himself small, less of a target -- not because he's ready to flinch aside, but because it means when he goes off, he's suddenly too big and too fast for most anybody to handle. And, he follows the instructions. Thinks about something that makes him feel safe. ]

-- I can't.

[ Behind his veils and coppers, he opens his eyes. Frustrated, his voice a little shaken. ]

I can't find anything. Are you sure this is how it works?

[theycalledmeacurse]

( It's been a great trip for you then, huh? )

[ There's sympathy in the words, and a hint of commiseration. It's been a long time, but Rogue can remember what it feels like to be hungover. Back in her youth, after a particularly brutal mission, her little sub-team had drowned their sorrows at a local bar. Turns out drinking a lot is only worth it when you have a healing factor to borrow the next day - Logan had forced her to experience it so she knew what she'd be getting into next time. I might not always be around to save you, Stripes.

The cacophony of the other woman's thoughts is comforting in a way, the mishmash not calling to her attention the way more complex thoughts usually do. She lets them pass with only a brief amount of attention spared. ]

( My name's Rogue, by the way. I'm one of the new arrivals. )

such a sweet angry child

[theycalledmeacurse]

[ Ah, so he's one of those. The fiercely independent, probably unable to admit when he needs help and certainly never asking for it. She's seen dozens just like him, all of them angry at the world and raging in their own way. All of them hurting from something.

Maybe she's wrong, maybe not. Either way, she sure as hell can't just do nothing now. ]

( You could get to know us. Then we wouldn't be strangers. )

[ Logic might not work in this situation, but well. It's worth a try, right? ]

[perroquet]

Gildor of Helyanwë. Pleasure, Mr Bakugo. Or just Bakugo, then?

[ He lays the bow across his lap and holds out a hand to shake. His reach in Bakugo's direction is off - just by a few degrees, but enough to be off. ]

Whomever taught you that taught you very well. And I should thank you for reminding me that the way things are could and should always be improved. Thank you.

[greentech]

Yeah, I know. That's why I'm going to figure a way out. I want to help, but - I can do that at home. Not here.

[ She's got conviction, at least. ]

[greentech]

Nothing, really. If you want to look at it, I'll show you.

[ She cocks her head, brow furrowed behind her layers of veils. What a weird thing to ask. ]

More people getting an idea of how everything works can't be a bad thing.

[incinerates]

[ There is a spark ( don't take liberties that aren't yours-- ), words igniting along the threads between them. Like fire along spider silk, where neither gives and neither is able to take. His thoughts are spat out, free and unadulterated, in retaliation to the mere suggestion that someone might dare try to do something on his behalf.

Like name him. ]

Hm.

[ A faint grunt, shallow acknowledgement. He sees the way the veil flutters and drags across the shape of a mouth, suggesting that Hadrian Black has a lot to say, and he collects the pieces of it that are actually of importance. Things that line up with the information curated on his data pad, which he'd inevitably gone through -- back to front -- the way a studious soul might rip into a good text for the meat and gristle and delicate connective tissues. Under the brusque attitude and the shock of fire in his mind, there's something sharp. Observant, charting his surroundings with the attentiveness of someone who doesn't waste an opportunity, or fail to notice a strategy.

He looks for weaknesses and advantages, under that thuggish front. ] Is that it? You could have just said you read the briefing.

[ Bluntly, like a backhand that shoves aside the shit and goes right for the bull's horns. ]

So. What's that make you -- prime diplomat? You sure talk enough.

[theycalledmeacurse]

[ Time hasn't been easy for her to keep track of anyway these past few years, so she's not overly bothered by that. There's no reason for her to worry about tallying up months as they pass, since she's not in a hurry to get anywhere in particular. For the others though, the ones with lives to return to, she can see how that might be irritating. ]

What were the missions before like? And-- Are there a lot of us that come through here?

[ Did their predecessors die, or were they sleeping somewhere like Helen had been? ]

[incinerates]

[ He's leaving this whole -- whatever this thing is -- behind. There's no good way to ditch the conversation, the things he's done, the way he's fostered some sort of urgency within himself. Do something, the tiny, infantile voice inside of him had said, and he'd heeded it. Foolishly, without question. Listened and obeyed, when something told him jump, now and to do it in the direction of some hysterical dame who'd apparently needed the weird pick-em-up he'd offered. A goddamn faux-pas punch, and it had been successful. Somehow, someway.

( It scares him; that he doesn't recognize if it was his own voice, or the coiling, creeping collection of emotions and thoughts and memories that now swirl within him. )

With his things in his arms, Bakugo's seconds from deliberate motion. Cutting a conversation short comes easy to him, all it takes is for him to turn his back on someone and to walk away. Just turn, just walk. If he can't see them, their words can't reach him. And he does, he really does. Arms full of heavy, metal-case gauntlets and the half-folded strip of mask that shields his face and his ears from damage and recoil. He turns on Juno, puts the dame in his mirrors and gets ready to let him eat dust. He doesn't want to deal with this weird sensation any further. Doesn't even want to think about it. ]

Bakugo, Katsuki. [ Looking back, with a devil's smile on his face, like he's just found his new favorite joke. ] See ya, damsel.

[sistershoggoth]

[ Sympathy is an interesting, unusual reaction. Sometimes she got a kind of bemused consolation, but more often she got outright rejection or exasperated tolerance. She was a free-wheeling mess of a person that took effort to deal with and here was this chick just letting it roll of her back. Suspiciously nice. ]

( That your codename? Mine's Shoggoth but I don't really use it anymore. )

[erbier]

[ She contemplates. There are very few hosts who can find their way in to this space of their own volition. Cathaway. Bellamy. John. Not even her own broodmates had been invited in. ]

You may return, if you like.

[ Easily rescinded if Ilde changed her mind, but meant in kindness in the moment. ]

Though we are not to be here on the Station for long. We will be joining the others soon. Do you feel prepared for that?

[ To jump worlds all over again, to join the other hosts: their noisy minds and confused motivations. ]

[incinerates]

I don't think so.

[ Something heavy rises in his throat, threatening to overtake him with how simple she makes it all sound. Just get to know them, don't be a stranger. Don't make it difficult, everyone's on his side. Especially her. Subtle, whispering things that creep up the back of his brain and urge him to seek out "family". ]

I can't trust a damn thing I think about you idiots, because it's not MINE.

[erbier]

It is a pity the other hosts are not here, it would be better to practice your tolerance before we descend to the planet.

[ It was that invasiveness, overwhelming, that would take the most calm and patience to withstand. ]

[erbier]

[ Sleepy... It is not the most offensive epithet she's ever been given, nor does it amuse her... ]

As you like.

[ She inclines her head to it, perfectly willing not to fight. She's amiable that way. ]

Shall I show you to your quarters?

[theycalledmeacurse]

[ He's making it quite clear that another approach is needed. One more akin to how she'd first dealt with having intrusions into her mind. ]

( You're not entirely wrong, there are things you're experiencing that aren't your own. But-- Humor me for a minute? Think about how you're feeling about me in particular, what you're thinking. Do you like me? Hate me? Do you want to protect me, or never speak to me again? )

[theycalledmeacurse]

( It's the only name I've used in years. )

[ She hardly feels like Marie anymore. Maybe one day she will, when all of this is over and she has the chance to live a life of her own choosing. When the war isn't quite so fresh in her mind and things don't hurt as much. When she can look at the tattoo on her arm without feeling like she's lost a piece of her soul. ]

[incinerates]

[ How does he FEEL about her? ]

I don't -- a little of everything, I guess.

[ There's resistance in his tone, the suggestion that he's not one to unpack the way he thinks or feels. And a soft, fragmented sense that he's been made nervous. Taken off balance, by the idea that she's going to ask him to chase it deeper. He doesn't want to. What he's said is what he's meant! ]

I don't know you. But, some other thing says I do. I know I can do this on my own, but some other thing's saying I'm not alone. But. I am. I didn't connect to any of you because I chose to. How'm I supposed to get to know you, if I "already do"?

[theycalledmeacurse]

( Oh sugar, just because we're connected doesn't mean we're automatically best friends. We're allies, but everything else comes with time. I've had people in my head for half my life, but it's only a sense of them. There's a lot we don't know about each other, things that make up who we really are. Where we came from, what we've experienced. I can tell that you're angry, but not at what specifically. )

[ She takes a deep breath, feeling like she's turning in circles and not making much headway at getting to her point in all this. ]

( We might be connected and not alone because we're on the same team, but it's up to you how you all of this. You could learn how to hide things in your mind so others can't see, and how to keep out some of the pieces you're probably getting from all of us. It wouldn't fix everything, but it might help you feel a bit more like you have some control here. )

[sistershoggoth]

( Yeah? How come? Where the hell're you from? )

[ The tone is friendly, and the conversation is a welcome distraction from her hangover. Although, when her attention focuses in on Rogue, there is a sense of too many eyes and too many slimy tentacles lurking in the depth of the woman who sometimes went by 'Shoggoth'. ]

[theycalledmeacurse]

( Earth. I was part of a team of mutants, we were fighting to end a war with baseline humans. )

[ If anyone of that makes sense to the other woman. If Rogue could even be considered part of that team anymore. Shifting her stance slightly, she tries not to pay too much attention to the sensation she's picking up from her companion, something... eerie and off-putting about it all that's at odds with their pleasant conversation. ]

( I don't use my other name because I don't feel like the person I was before Rogue anymore. )