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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[ Slowly, so as not to draw attention to himself, he begins to lower his arm -- dropping his bare, gloveless hand into the folds of his voluminous attire to hide it from the eyes of those he does not know, nor expect. It's a calculated gesture, and the tension in his shoulders abates when he realizes that she's part of the entourage. ]

What's up - you want something?

[ Sharp, brisk. He cuts right to the chase, overlooking soft pleasantries. ]

I'm still working on it, honestly.

[ Especially after her recent encounter with her brood-mate. It's weird to think about. ]

But I can shut out most of the noise, at least.

Cool.

[Once she's got the scarf, Darlene wraps it around her hand, pleased with her deal. She's already looked through her pack but she turns her attention back to it, doing the work of sorting through the shit in there.

Tentatively, as she keeps busy, she reviews the feeling of spooning with some weirdo's brain. What she feels, she doesn't like. If she thought hard enough, they could talk without talking, like some effed-up sci-fi psychic speech.

That means Darlene opts firmly for talking, even if she's not looking at him.]

So what's with the corpse delivery?

[ Why's this keep happening - this mingling of minds and emotions? He's not asking for it, and it's not like he's actively seeking other people out with his brain ( or so he thinks; the hivemind is a funny, new thing for such a new and volatile young host ). On the shoreline, there's a measure of clarity and quiet that even he finds. The way he finds it atop a high peak outside of the city, during the early hours of the morning after a long bus ride and a grueling hike to the very top. The ocean might be red, but the water interacts with the land the way he recognizes it ought to.

When the other host ( the other poor sap that's likely been convincingly conned into this whole mess ) comes back at him, he's greeted with teeth and the stony snap of flint meeting tinder. Bristly meets bristly, and a not-so-subtle rubbernecking, as he tries to physically pinpoint where Mat's at. ]

Don't flatter yourself, it's not like there's anything to find in there.

[ He bleeds like someone new to the mental link, and someone used to having a very physical, very audible presence. ]

Let go, [ as though the connection were as simple to release as that. ]

They might be. We're looking for some nebulous "enemy", aren't we?

[ For all he knows, it might be one that could lead him to that starry-bodied freak who'd left him feeling so damn wrecked that he had to take a deal he never, in his right mind, would have accepted. One that took him out of his world, like everyone else here -- as far as he was aware. Not that any of them had an excuse, if they just turned tail and ran away. ( He didn't run; he made a tactical decision with the goal of singling out the creep who'd singled him out. )

What did he say yes to -- leaving his home? Not in his mind. Coming to this stupid planet? Sure, someone had to keep an eye on this gaggle of losers. ]

Maybe. You don't need to concern yourself, just stay the hell out of my way when it comes down to it.

[ *a teenager, thank you!!

He fights his way through a tangle of cloth and jingling copper draping, veils clutched in one hand as the other reaches out - fingers curling hesitantly, for only a moment - before bypassing Shiro's offered hand entirely in order to reach for the other one. The one he made mention of, which immediately makes it more interesting to him. The hair is -- well, it's neat. He could see why a guy might adopt a moniker like "Shiro" -- ah, though.

That's likely his real name. ]

-- you're not a pro, are you?

[ Not one he'd recognize. Possibly not from his world, either. ]

[ He'll accept that, at face value. Whatever heights her 'creepy' level happens to be rising to, it's likely not the result of her being part of that Shigaraki guy's posse. Which means that he can rule out being re-captured by the League, and lead to believe it was of his own volition. He'll sort that out, sooner or later. ]

Sixteen, but since you - or someone - went through my shit before I woke up, I'm sure that means you saw my student I.D.

[ His name, his class, his one-day alma mater> U.A. High, an academy for heroes; it's where his mind lingers, for a moment. Tall buildings of metal and glass, sharp and sparkling and full of the most brilliant and passionate minds and hearts. A training ground for future heroes, full to bursting with the best the nation had to offer. He lingers on the broad shoulders of a man with blonde hair jutting up into antenna-like spikes, and the glowing admiration that swells within him for that victorious figure. He lingers on a slouched man, with tired eyes, half-hidden below a billowing scarf and the more subtle degree of respect he feels towards him. ]

Don't treat me like I'm just some idiot child, I'm better than anyone you'll meet from this... whatever just happened to all of us.

[ The hatchening. ]

Edited 2017-12-05 23:11 (UTC)

[ The red sea was slightly unnerving when Rogue first caught sight of it, but she's simply enjoying the sound of the water against the rocks, brushing over the unusual color just as she does with most strange things in her life. It's still just water, after all, and the fishermen don't seem all that concerned as they go about the tasks to make their livings. She's enjoying watching them at work, even contemplating accepting the offer to go out on the one of the boats and try her hand with a net, but there's someone else who seems to be enjoying absolutely nothing about the day.

Turning toward the voice that isn't really there, she spots a nearby figure and mentally quirks an eyebrow in the other host's direction before responding, her mental voice a smooth southern drawl to match her actual voice. ]

( Well, I'm gonna go ahead and suggest you don't get in that boat then, sugar. Cleaning up those robes would be just awful. )

I wouldn't call it magic, but yeah. Basically. "Great, I can turn invisible, but there's also two dozen people living in my head with me!"

[ Pidge throws up her hands. She has had a lot of time to sit and think and stew. It hasn't gotten that much better, as far as she's concerned, but there really isn't much to be done about it. At least not yet. ]

Trust me, I know exactly what you're talking about. [ She holds out a hand in the darkness. ]

I'm Pidge. Who are you?

[ That little blip on her mental radar is what draws her attention to the other figure, the both of them covered by these costumes that don't allow them to properly see each other. It's disorienting, in a way, she's so used to trying to put together facial tells with what she's learned of how human beings work, but now she's reliant only on how they feel. Except even that doesn't work with this one.

The frosted steel in his mind is soothing, a reminder of an old friend who she still considers such, and she smiles both mentally and physically. ]

( Hey there, sugar. I like your shielding. )

Well, yeah, but the enemy is the enemy and... I don't even know who you're looking for.

[ Asuka does not seem impressed by his stated goal, but she's rarely ever all that impressed by... well... anything. Or at least she tries not to be. Especially not when it comes to new people. They should be impressed by her, right? She puts her chin in her hand and eyeballs him from her spot in the sand. ]

Stay out of your way, huh? Yeah, sure. Wouldn't want you to drag me down when you trip.

[ If Aloy is taken aback by his brusque response she doesn't show it. That or it's just hard to see behind the layers and layers of cloth she wears to conceal herself. She settles herself back, shifting weight to one foot as she studies Bakugo. ]

Just trying to get to know the new arrivals. I'm Aloy.

[ She's friendly, her tone light. She'll try and be the good 'veteran' for now. No use in starting off hostile, right? ]

[ Who the shit is calling her sugar... God when was the last time anyone called her sugar? Her attempts to call up the memory are more like a bloated, rotting whale trying to roll over where its been beached. She slams the heel of her hand against her throbbing forehead. ]

( Oh. I know. I've already done it twice. Fuckin' Sam Wilson was like 'I'll hold your hair next time Annie' and guess who still got a fuckin' hoodful of sewage... )

[ The previous two times had nothing to do with her propensity to drink to excess. But whatever, she just oozes thoughts like something slimy with them, a trail of discarded noises and ideas and colors. If it makes some kind of coherency, she just lets it out. Her filter isn't great. ]

That's because you don't need to know.

[ Two teenagers who think they're the center of the universe meet one another: you won't believe what happens next. The spike of something white and mean curls inside of him, the result of her words. Sharp wit, for an idiot kid who thinks she's hot shit. ( You two are, like, the same person wtf. ) ]

Tch. And here I thought you lot were lowly enough -- heard some folks died on your watch.

[ Don't need to know. Right. Whatever. She's prepared to blow him off as another blowhard newcomer (hahaha, not like she knows anything about that) and just let him be an idiot. Then he goes ahead and mentions people dying. There's a stiffening of her shoulders and she turns her head to stare at him. There's something heated and angry radiating off of her now. A challenge. ]

People die. Sometimes you can't help it. So what? It's a war.

[ Say it. She dares you. ]

[ People aren't supposed to die, but he's heard of one recent death among the nest, at least two among the aliens - more still, who have been laid to rest aboard the Station and left to rest. People aren't supposed to die, they're supposed to live. ]

What an excuse -- "a war", as if I'm meant to just accept that you're incapable "because it's war".

[ He scoffs, cracking his knuckles through the heavy gloves he wears -- veils and robes settling around him. ]

Nobody else is dying. I'm here to see to that.

[She is what she is, but he still remembers her teaching the visualizations. He's still grateful for it. Still concerned for the person he remembers was left grieving.]

(And I'm glad to see you. I'm... sorry it's not under better circumstances.)

[Namely, the absence of Steve. Sympathy won't change it, and he knows that. But it's there, all the same.]

[ Asuka regrets the veils and robes, because it makes it really hard to give him the withering look she'd like to give him. Instead she pushes to her feet, shaking sand off of her robes and stalking towards him. ]

You don't really get why you're here, do you?

[ She doesn't bother with his personal space. She just steps in, jabbing at his chest with one finger. Her anger crackles around her and he can probably feel it rolling off of her. ]

You don't know anything about me or this place or fighting. You're just some punk who thinks he knows better! Don't make me laugh, you little twerp...!

[ And resentment. Resentment that he judges her for the loss of a broodmate and a friend. ]

I've never had a problem learning something I've set my mind to. Don't worry about me.

[ Underneath all his attitude and spark, there's a distinct intelligence. Something that keeps a hawkish eye on her smile, how it pairs with her composure, how that settles among what she says and does not say. It's a risk, asking the first person he meets ( and one that was so cold ) to divulge her secrets, to give him anything -- especially when he ought to be handling this entire thing himself. He can do it himself, that's not what this is about. This is like -- an older student imparting a younger with valuable information about what's going to be thrown at them later on. ]

Don't fuck with me, though. I'll know if you are.

[ His defiance is incendiary, making sparks pop in that central place where she is not as cold as she seems. Where the Godking's madness sits coiled inside her -- a phoenix, a snake. There are certain people who have just a way of lighting her anger, her greed. She is becoming more aware of this. She will have to be careful, about this boy and his direct arrogance and sharp eyes. ]

I'm not familiar with that turn of phrase.

[ A demure inclination of her head, inviting him to elaborate. She doubts he yet realizes how much the Nest's many voices can fill in spaces where cultures gap, and she wants to see if there is a line to his foulness where he might reconsider himself. ]

[ Ah... Steven. Yes, she's sure that had bothered Sam, Clint, Bucky, Shiro... the people Steven had truly cared about. Oh she could just about bare her teeth over it. But she tucks the emotions back, smooths them over as carefully as smoothing the wrinkles from a satin tablecloth. ]

( It's alright. I'm strong enough for this. )

[ The last time she had spoken to Steven... She had told him as much. As a matter of necessity: her brood had failed her, and she would now do this on her own. ]

[ Joshua's not much of a conversationalist lately, but he's nonetheless glad to oblige. Words on the air are at least a distraction from everything happening in their heads.

But of course he paid attention to the corpse delivery. ]

They weren't dead.

[ There, she's on her feet now. Even as she moves towards him, a flurry of robes and anger, he comes to meet her - he's not passive, by any means. When she's in motion, he matches her, bracing himself in the sand as she stabs her finger against him, as she bleeds resentment and anger and it cuts into him -- far too familiar for him to differentiate it from his own. Bakugo doesn't even feel it as a foreign thing, it's so natural. ]

It's because you all needed an ace, [ in a way, they all were chosen.

It wasn't a fair process, they weren't given much of a choice, but he doesn't look at the rest of the nest the way he looks upon himself. He's above them, he has to be, because after all those dead and dying and slumbering hosts, he'd arrived. They had to con him into it, trick him - like everyone else ( and being treated like the others of the nest, being considered one of them when he's clearly, unabashedly their star player, is an insult and an injury ). ]

I know exactly why I'm here, and it's to give you all the win you can't get without me. [ No more dying.

He may be plunging his fingers into her wounds, digging at the death of her own, but there is a sharp honesty in the way he believes himself to be this nest's deliverance from further loss. ]

[ Beneath the arch of a door that may or may not have previously been there, Ilde stops. She is a twenty year old girl, with tumbling blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing the same grey bodysuit that the Prince and Cathaway make comfortable. ]

I thought I might invite you to walk in my garden. You might find it peaceful.

[ Ilde's voice is soft, direct, but feminine. Her mind is all but silent, tightly shielded in an icy embrace. Her presence brings with it a faint smell of damp earth, flowers, smoke.

The door she stands next to opens with a gesture from her hand, exposing a portal into something lush-seeming, vibrantly green in the sterile white of the Station. ]

Great.

[ This bodes so very well for his future here. ]

Any tips?

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

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>8U !!!!!

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1 - ilde option

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