onemind: (Default)
THE N E S T ([personal profile] onemind) wrote in [community profile] station722017-12-03 05:40 pm

[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!))





incinerates: ID 13036614 @ PIXIV (ɪ'ʟʟ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏᴅ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ)

[personal profile] incinerates 2018-01-07 03:27 am (UTC)(link)
Bakugo.

[ "Mister" would be his father, definitely.

He watches, warily, from under his veils as the music-man ( Gildor, he'd heard and would soon dismiss from his memory banks ) extends a hand. It's off, yeah. It's easy to reach across himself to find purchase in it, briefly shaking Gildor's hand before he pulls it back. Doesn't even know why he does it -- he's not one for touching, and the vibrato of his mind lets that be known. ]


It's no big deal.

[ The praise ghosts by him, and he does his best to keep it from reaching that wounded part of his heart that doesn't need to be mended with casual platitudes. ]

I thought it was just somethin' obvious.
perroquet: (10)

[personal profile] perroquet 2018-01-07 05:42 am (UTC)(link)
Bakugo, then.

[ He repeats the name, and firmly grips the boy's hand. There's an effort behind the grip, a mental hum as he holds a second longer. An effort to know and remember him, to file him neatly away. It contains Bakugo's sensation of not enjoying this, and Gildor lets him go again promptly. ]

It should be, but unfortunately it isn't for many who come from more broken places, as many of our number do.

[ He takes up his violin again as he speaks, but not to play. He's gotten enough practice in for now, and it will need to be cleaned before he plays again. It is wrapped in a silk cloth with careful hands and placed back into a case at his side. When it's locked he stands, then crouches to retrieve his cane from where it blends in the ground. Bits of sand roll off it as he shoulders his case. ]

Bakugo, would you be so kind as to lead me back to the path towards our camp? I'm afraid I'm bloody useless at navigating in sand.
incinerates: ID 13036614 @ PIXIV (ᴀɴᴅ ɪ'ᴍᴍᴀ ʙᴏx'ᴇᴍ)

[personal profile] incinerates 2018-01-07 06:05 am (UTC)(link)
[ His CHA stat is a -6, most likely. Wining and dining and socializing is not his forte, and he's never been one to work well with others. There's too much buzzing around inside of him, telling him to be the best, to be better than the rest. Even here, among the nest, there's a yawning maw of a thing urging him to conquer and lead. It exists, shaky and new, among the whisper of the symbiote, telling him to get along well, to be warm and cooperative. ]

Yeah, I heard. [ From a number of others. ] Being broken doesn't mean you get a free pass to be the only one who knows about shit, though.

[ Oh, something or someone has rubbed him the wrong way, then. By the way he bristles, by the way his mind surges.

It doesn't take him long, between the way that the music-man offers his hand and the cane that he gathers, for Bakugo to recognize what's up with him. He's loud and brash, but he's not an idiot. It's easy to put the obvious together, and come up with an answer. Music-man's blind, or at least close enough to it to need assistance. ]


I'm not... [ Charitable? A guide animal?

Whatever he was about to say, never comes. Instead, he elbows up along Gildor's side and aims him in a better direction. ]
This way.
perroquet: (03 listen)

[personal profile] perroquet 2018-01-07 07:01 am (UTC)(link)
Thank you-

[ -is what he says aloud, as a hand presses to his back. It steers him through the fuzzy feeling of sand beneath them, each footstep sinking softly instead of reverberating off their surroundings. Mentally, he's reading what he can from the boy without being too intrusive. Eavesdropping on this new, unpracticed symbiote, and responding quietly in kind. He says thank you, but he feels it too - humble gratitude flowing contentedly through him like a string of musical thought that isn't quite finished, with half formed lyrics that whisper words of approval.

Those high notes - the surges and bristles - aren't unnoticed. Neither is that thirst. It has been a long time, but it's a feeling Gildor recognizes well from his own youth. To not only be his best but the best. It is with thoughtful familiarity that Gildor carefully navigates another question: ]


Of course not. Do you have any ideas as to how we can do better, then? I am all ears.
incinerates: ID 13036614 @ PIXIV (ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇs ғᴏʀ ғᴜʟғɪʟʟᴍᴇɴᴛ)

[personal profile] incinerates 2018-01-11 10:49 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He nearly misses it. The question.

Suddenly entranced by the single-minded focus of guiding the blind musician across the sand without needing to touch him at all times, because the last thing Bakugo is, is touchy-feely. Not emotionally, not practically. He guides Gildor with his elbow, nudging it against him to lure him one way, to coerce him another, moving across the sand. ( How'd he get so far out, the way he was? )

Funnily, Gildor's the first one to ask him his opinion; to ask him why he thinks this entire mission was fucked from the start. ]


When the mission's built on stealth and has high stakes, don't bring every able body to the ground, just the ones best-suited for diplomacy. Leave others to be support: long range observation, tactical strike teams, rescue ops if things go south and we need to beat it. Everyone could be involved, everyone should be involved. They just didn't need to be here.

[ A beat. ]

But, what's done's done. Now, it's all just a clusterfuck of us all trying to get into someone's good graces. We should bolster the diplomats, and have a team that can still provide offensive support if we need to flee. That way, nobody else will get hurt or die.
Edited 2018-01-11 22:51 (UTC)
perroquet: (03 listen)

[personal profile] perroquet 2018-01-12 03:22 am (UTC)(link)
[ Gildor listens. What he hears aren't bad suggestions, though he could poke a few holes in them. The vast distance blocking their ability to efficiently communicate with the station, for one. The opinion that they are all stronger together, for another. Instead of pointing out flaws directly, he briefly offers his own experience- ]

We are very lucky to have strong thinkers and fighters together, you know. On top of all the formalities, this pilgrimage has been one hunting expedition after another. I've not been able to participate in any such events, though I have been building relationships where I can, as have we all.

[ The next round of suggestions are ones he finds more agreeable. Despite their many talents, they really are a "clusterfuck" aren't they? He smiles behind his veils and his thoughts crescendo approvingly. ]

I think that is a wonderful idea. Perhaps you could practice your new abilities and share these suggestions with everyone. I know more than a few solider-types who would be happy to enlist and help formulate such plans. One addendum I would emphasize is keeping not just ourselves safe in the event of an emergency, but the innocent Rabadoceans as well.

[ As soon as they figure out who those innocent Rabadoceans are, of course.

As much as Gildor approves of Bakugo now, the elbowing-steering is a bit difficult to read, and more than a little pokey. He slows and puts up a hand the next time he's jabbed, startled but patient. ]
Sorry, I can find my way back up eventually if this is too difficult for you.
incinerates: ID 13036614 @ PIXIV ('ʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ɪɴsᴀɴᴇ)

[personal profile] incinerates 2018-01-12 11:48 pm (UTC)(link)
I'll hunt. I can hunt.

[ ( Boy, you've been HIKING. You've never held a gun or any hunting implement a day in your life. Your dad is a designer. Your mom played volleyball. Chill, for just one second. ) Gildor needs to know none of this, just that Bakugo is eager to dive in. Not because he wants to get participation credit, but because he's likely to resolve the problem. It's just how he things -- vastly willful, highly prideful. Glowing bright with independence, which sets the symbiote to cringing and reaching for his brood, for nestmates. ]

New abilities? What are you talking about, I was born with these.

[ The imagery of fire, explosions. His fingers curled around his palms, the act of wiping sweat from his brow and setting alight without a care in the world. The sense that he is very, very comfortable with his power, as if from a young age. ( He doesn't disagree, not completely, when Gildor refers to the Rabadoceans. They can fall in line, if they want to be taken care of. Bakugo will win this round, they won't have to worry at all. )

He pauses, when Gildor catches his elbow, and lets him know it's -- not helping. Wordlessly, and with a measure of hesitation, he nudges his arm up underneath the music-man's, a little more steady and a little more stable. By the tension in his forearm, it's clear he's not used to "handling" people. Not used to touching. Just be grateful, his mind hums, red with a childish embarrassment for being caught out. ]
perroquet: (07 notice)

[personal profile] perroquet 2018-01-13 12:42 am (UTC)(link)
[ The imagery that leaks over the connection isn't unwelcome, (his mind is is open to anything and everything, a black pit devoid of light and color, collecting more by the day) though it makes little sense at first. He's quiet as he puzzles through what's being shown, and it isn't until he recalls a similar shared image of fire that the pieces come together. ]

Oh! You're a blaster caster! Then of course you must be excellent at bringing down strong foes. Although we must be careful about what we show off here. I've bolstered fire users in battle before, but've had little opportunity to provide support here. Too many prying ears and eyes.

[ He takes that tense arm in his and pats it, but then slips out of his grip again. The boy has made it clear by his handling that he has no clue how to lead, but he isn't upset. Gildor takes it upon himself to re-arrange them, easily and patiently. He settles with a hand gently holding the crook of Bakugo's elbow, which is all he really needs until they're out of the sand. ]

Here. Like this is better, if you don't mind. Is that alright?

As for your new abilities, I was talking about... ah... [ He lifts his cane and motions to tap the side of his head with it, lightly. ]
incinerates: ID 13036614 @ PIXIV (ɪᴛ sᴇᴇᴍs ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴇsᴛᴇʀᴅᴀʏ)

[personal profile] incinerates 2018-01-13 08:27 pm (UTC)(link)
[ "Blaster caster" doesn't sound half-bad, actually. It's not as cool as "King Explosionmurder", but it definitely ranks slightly above "Blasty". ]

Yeah, that's me.

[ He's definitely about bringing down strong foes; the stronger, the better. The louder and more powerful he can be, flaunting his talent and genius, the better he feels. Cutting loose is the thing he absolutely cannot do, and as blustery as he gets about it, he won't put the kids on the team into danger. He won't be That Guy. ]

Even if this entire "be subtle" bullshit means I can't do everything I'm able to, there's still plenty else I'm good at.

[ The music-man rearranges the hold he's got on the proffered arm, and Bakugo relaxes. Just a little. Enough to guide him across the sands, towards solid ground without much more protest. ]

Oh, that. I don't need whatever's binding me to the team I've been assigned to, or the nest as a whole. Sure - it's handy to have a walkie-talkie in your head, I'll give it that, but fat chance I want to end up like that old lady on the station. That's just... it's gross.
perroquet: (03 listen)

[personal profile] perroquet 2018-01-13 08:45 pm (UTC)(link)
[ His time on the station was brief, as he's sure Bakugo's was. But if there was another guardian besides His Royal Not-Highness, then she never showed herself. ]

Well, I'm not sure what a walkie-talkie is, but I agree no one needs it. It certainly has it's uses, though. I don't believe I've met this woman you speak of, but - I've experienced seeing for the first time thanks to this. Never thought I'd see the say! [ A small chuckle at his own joke. ]

What else can you do? I don't wish to brag, but my abilities cover a wide range of support, from healing to improving strength and accuracy. All you need to do to receive that support is listen.
incinerates: ID 13036614 @ PIXIV (ʀᴀɴ? ᴡʜᴇɴ? ɴɪᴄᴋɪ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴ' ᴛᴀɴ)

[personal profile] incinerates 2018-01-14 02:39 am (UTC)(link)
[ "Listen". Wow, he hopes that's just a turn of phrase and not literal. ]

I, uh. [ a beat. ] I sweat nitroglycerin, and I can detonate it at will. I've had my Quirk since I was a kid, so I know how to use it really well. And I'm third in my class, back home. I don't have a variety of different skills, but I know how to use what I have, and I'll only get better.

[ Man, he really hopes "listen" isn't literal. ]

We're here, by the way. Solid ground.
perroquet: (11)

[personal profile] perroquet 2018-01-14 05:00 am (UTC)(link)
[ Gildor can get metaphorical, but in this case what he said was mostly literal. Sorry my boy. Also "had my Quirk since I was a kid" oh child I have news for you... ]

So we are!

[ He was listening to Bakugo's explanation so intently, he barely noticed the shift in the ground. A rare thing for him to miss, but he was being attentive and trying to puzzle through things he's never heard of. Nitroclycerin? Quirk? Though he's not familiar with the vocabulary, he can still piece it together as- ]

Exploding sweat! That's rather unique. [ A beat as he lets go of the boy's arm and turns to almost face him again. ] If I've learned anything these past few weeks from traveling with this group, it is that magic takes a great many forms across the universe. It's nice to meet another user. [ Or at least someone who doesn't reject the existence of fantastical energies outright...

He firmly pats Bakugo's arm twice, and there's a tingling sensation across the new link that connects their minds. He feels the smallest rippling sensation over the boy's form, and as it rolls across him, there's the sense Gildor is getting a look at him. ]


I can find my way back from here. Thank you, Bakugo. It's been a pleasure. I do hope you will reconsider getting in touch with everyone about that emergency plan idea.