[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

just ilde things

[erbier]

station
[ Ilde Vilmaine is a pretty girl of twenty. She wears the plain charcoal jumpsuit made for the hosts without looking uncomfortable in it. For a long time she had clung to her white frocks, but that need to individualize and cling to her past station has faded from her. While she has awoken with these new hosts, she is not a fresh hatch herself. Her mind is frigidly controlled, still and peaceful, delicately obscured.

She has always made it a habit to introduce herself to new hosts, however, and she will approach any new member with a polite, ]

Hello, how do you fare?

planetside - greetings
[ Obscured behind cloak and her own careful shielding, it may not be entirely obvious who she is, until she removes her hood and cloak in their quarters. The first thing she does in this privacy is take several small spheres off her belt -- each smooth and white, the size of a pool ball. They expand to the size of an ostrich egg, lids popping open with a hiss to expose six plants that she reaches in to tend to, humming peaceably to herself. ]

planetside - culture time
[ Ilde enjoys crafts. She is the first to volunteer herself to partake in the sea-weaving, the jewelry making, the pottery. When it comes to entering that blood-colored water however... She balks like a frightened horse, only noticeable to other hosts in the sharp pang of panic it causes her.

She has worked hard to overcome her fear of water, but this hideous sanguine sea is too much for her. It prickles anxiety at the back of her neck. ]

[incinerates]

What the hell are you.

[ There's no mincing words, when it comes down to it.

As sharply as he pulls away from the connection, there are -- there's just -- everyone else continues to talk at once. They bleed, like open wounds, bruises that keep being prodded, sore throats that you swallow against in the hopes that this time the ache will be alleviated. But, not her. Among the noise, she's quiet. A still, subtle little pond of a person. Like a caldera full of rainwater, atop a remote mountain at daybreak. Chilly, pristine, hiding its depths and ushering fools into danger. ( The shoreline is too steep, you'll never climb out if you're not cautious. ) ]

-- and where do I get clothes like that.

[erbier]

[ She doesn't like being spoken to like that... but she can think of several other hosts who insisted upon it. Foul, rude mouths that tended to mask hurting hearts. A suspicion that she tucks away for later, she found it ill-advised to make decisions about other hosts too soon after their awakening. No one was quite themselves when first feeling the effects of the symbiote.

So she merely inclines her head, a friendly recognition to his rude question, although it is the latter half of his statements she answers, ]

There are quarters, beds and amenities, you may find your clothing there.

[ The Station could be helpful like that. ]

[incinerates]

[ That's just too bad. She's too quiet, among all that noise - it's freaky, alarming. Noticeable, in the eyes of one who pays attention to little things, who pries people apart for their weaknesses and vulnerabilities. Things to exploit, in the end. ]

Huh. You know your way around, then. One out of the rest of us who does - what's that make you?

[ They're meant to stay, he assumes. A longer stay than anyone with a home to return to would desire. ]

Was that you, talkin' earlier?

[ It's hard to differentiate between voices and un-voices right now. He's referring to Cathaway's call, though. ]

[erbier]

No. That was Cathaway.

[ Although to say that, at this point, some amount of Cathaway didn't live inside of Ilde would be, frankly, untrue. She was closer with the older woman than most. Had allowed herself to be. ]

I am Ilde. I have merely been a member of the hive longer, but I am a host, like you are.

[ A little older, perhaps a little wiser, but in the end: the same. ]

plants and stuff

[stilettoes]

[ the hoods aren't getting old so much as the evening's exploits out to greet the new hosts had been a combination of shocking and unpleasant and tiring. there's a vague thread of ache that he does his best to wind up around his knuckles and hold on a taut leash as he begins to disrobe from the guise, a color black and burgundy.

he glances over at the young woman beside him, tipping his head a little bit and pulling his glasses out of his pocket to slip them on and take a better look. there's a quiet awe as he watches her tend to her plants in each of their individual pods before he speaks up. ]

Quite the garden you have there.

[erbier]

[ She doesn't look up immediately. It is not that she is so engrossed that she does not hear, but more that she is unwilling to be interrupted until she deems it time; as though she's holding eye contact with her plants before politely turning her head to pay attention to Peter in turn. As if there is no difference in their importance to her.

She has somber blue eyes, a sullen set to her mouth, and her mind is icily silent. The touch of her attention is little more than a breeze, a faint smell of flowers, perhaps incense. ]

This is the first mission I have had occasion for the pods.

[ Her tone is pleasant, personable, if reserved. ]

[stilettoes]

[ there's no problem with waiting, patience smoothing out evenly like a pane of dark glass as she tends to her group of plants with a diligence conducted without any concern for time. there's a stillness to her, a kind he hasn't picked up with most yet, and he sits comfortably in it for once (it feels unusual, but not awful) until the graze of her attention arrives.

in her reply, the silence makes a bit more sense. ]

What is it that you grow? Must be important to bring them here with you.

[erbier]

[ People always misunderstand. As if it is any individual plant itself that is important... She lowers her eyes with a faint, self-effacing smile. ]

A bit of food, a few medicinal herbs.

[ She has made practical choices, but the practicality was not the point. She was a gardener; the Godking's holy virgin who tended to his secret garden, hidden away from a world incinerated. There are many facets of this myth that she has grown out of... but she has always been that gardener. She will tend to that duty until she dies. ]

culture time

[shiro2hero]

(It's okay.)

[Offered up immediately. Without any thought to it. He wasn't on the beach for more than watching the water, more than thinking about the stretched-thin minds who matter most to him here. But the sudden startle, the abrupt panic, of the mind nearby gets his attention.]

[And he's rising.]

(It's water -- The color's pretty bizarre, but... it's not poisoned.)

[erbier]

[ Ah. Shiro. She straightens her back slightly, turning her head to glance at him, although beneath their cloaks she cannot see him. She knows him all the same, isn't he always reaching -- trying to comfort her? It seems that much hasn't changed. ]

( It is gruesome. )

[ She has an imagination filled with horrors. What else is she meant to think about, staring out over this crimson pool? ]

[shiro2hero]

(Ilde?)

[He was already half-risen from where he'd been sitting. Once the voice registers, he's on his feet completely. There's no hiding the surprise. Or the warmth in the recognition.]

(You're back.)

[Does she recognize him? Know him? It happened to Elena that way, hadn't it? She hadn't known anyone who'd met her before. But--]

(Do you remember anything?)

[erbier]

( Why shouldn't I remember? )

[ A faintly sour note. Forgetfulness has never been one of her vices, she had a rather hideous habit of remembering every ugly moment of her time, no matter how much she might wish to forget. ]

station

[iuno]

[ the absurdity of the question almost makes Juno laugh, but he bares his teeth instead in a sharp, sarcastic smile: ] Fantastic.

[ there isn't enough noise amongst everyone here to make his loss feel any quieter; if he were a lady less accustomed to tragedy, he thinks he might have stayed in his creepy little pod and screamed himself hoarse. it's hard not to notice how this girl stands out, though, the absence of sound, like a silhouette against the glare everyone else is throwing off right now. a good detective would be curious about that. Juno is too tired to be a good anything just yet. ]

You don't look as lost as the rest of us, so I'm guessing you've done this before. Are you the welcoming committee, or just a good Samaritan?

[ he doesn't say the latter like it's a good thing. ]

[erbier]

[ She doesn't react to this exhaustion, his sarcasm, bared teeth, bitterness. She stands still, her hands folded neatly in front of her, just watching him. She has weathered so much worse than one confused, frustrated detective and she bends to his disquiet easily. ]

My name is Ilde. [ She won't take on either of his labels, it's not his place to tell her what she is. ] I am a host, as you are. But you are correct, this is not my first awakening to the Station.

[iuno]

[ host. he doesn't like the word, feels it in his teeth — wants it to feel wrong where instead some part of him decides it fits. whatever they put in his head is no different to the telepathy that used to sit behind his eye like a tumour. if he's a host, then it's to a parasite that will probably end just as badly as the first one did. hopefully it takes out something less important than his fucking eye this time. ]

Yeah? [ her calm unsettles him in the same way a too-quiet room makes hair stand on end. but he does want a better grasp on the situation: ] So how many poor saps have they roped in?

[ simmering distrust, his arms crossed and fingers tapping restless against his arm. there isn't any hostility in his question, just a sharp-edged cynicism that makes almost every interaction read as one between a victim and a perpetrator to him. ]

planetside; culture time

[somnifacient]

[There's recognition there. He feels it, the thrum of a mind that he's brushed against before. It isn't close enough to be familiar, but Noctis remembers it; the smell of food at a banquet, the talk of growing vegetables and the waning of broods.

His mind prods at hers, but immediately pulls way when he feels the sting of her own panic. Noctis almost detaches completely then, and it's only concern that keeps him hovering nearby -- both mentally and physically. Boots kick up sand a little as he steps forward.]

...Hey.

[I remember you.]

[erbier]

[ Her anxiety is a feverish thing, bubbling up from beneath her restraint. A faint miasma of sickly heat, already cooling as the prince approaches her. ]

Hello, Noctis.

[ A motion like she might have been thinking to reach up and toy with her hair, but of course it is covered. ]

It is good to see you.

[ An empty pleasantry, she mostly just means it's probably nice he's not comatose. ]

[somnifacient]

[An empty pleasantry or not, there's something oddly reassuring to know that someone else who's once fallen asleep has returned to the Nest. It sparks hope in him, in that Gladio might one day wake up from his own dreamless slumber.]

You're awake.

[A pointless statement. Obvious, but he tinges it with something that sounds like might be a smile behind his hood.

Still, that receding anxiety is something he doesn't miss.]

Good to have you back. Um, is... everything all right?

station

[whereabout]

I'm fine.

[ Reflex. He's anything but fine, but Joshua has learned precisely one way of dealing with his feelings since he was a child: pretend they don't exist.

So he is fine and not feeling some kind of deep-seated existential weariness about the fact that he's apparently just naturally suited and forever consigned to having other people in his head (although these ones, at least, seem better than the one back home, which admittedly doesn't take much to accomplish), and this is a nice normal conversation.

Totally. ]

You seem to be very at ease with all of this.

[ Like it's not your first time, is the unspoken finish to that thought. ]

[erbier]

[ What a familiar method of function. Like two ghosts standing before one another to remark upon the living world. Ilde of all people certainly won't call him out. She merely smiles softly, politely, her hands folded in a demure and feminine way. ]

I am at peace with the Station, yes.

[ It took time, but she has an understanding of this place -- as this place has an understanding of her. ]

[whereabout]

[ 100% proper lady, it would seem. Which is not actually anything he's going to make too many judgments on, considering that Kloe was always proper as hell but ready to throw down with Ouroboros the same as everyone else in their merry band of misfits back home.

Peace with all of this is - not exactly something he can wrap his head around at all, if he's honest, but at the very least it's not something he can see anyone coming to that quickly. Being less distressed about the initial situation, okay, being willing to wait and see before making too many judgments, that's not unimaginable - but the sense of complete zen she seems to have about this place does not say "new arrival." ]

Have you been here for long?

culture time

[wrackful]

[He's been coming down to the beach regularly. There's something soothing about the water, lets him stay put and think for a while without getting caught by the usual restlessness which would have him needing to move on too soon.

It's a surprise to feel her nearby. A surprise that turns him cautious, wary. He'd felt her wake up once before, but it had been so long this time that he'd not considered it likely to happen again. She was gone, just like his broodmates, so many of the others he'd met since first climbing out of his pod.

Maybe he wasn't going to say anything. Maybe he would've just left, waited for their paths to cross some other place. But then her panic's spiking, and he's reaching like a steadying hand before he can think about it.]

( They don't expect any of us to get in. Can't really swim in these things. )

[Not that he could swim out of them, either.]

[erbier]

( 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.

[wrackful]

[The immediate warmth is a shock. He doesn't really know how to respond, only to wait for her to make her way to him. The veils don't help much - not that Ilde's facial expressions had ever given much away in the first place, but the lack of eye contact is something Murphy's been feeling more and more acutely recently.]

You woke up.

[Still that wariness. Already half crumbled in how he'd so reflexively reached for her, but the rest of him still attempting to be drawn back, like he doesn't want to let himself trust that she won't fall asleep again right there.]