station72 | [mission: hyrypia] big, but not coarse

[mission: hyrypia] big, but not coarse - merely on another scale

CHARACTERS: Everyone
WHERE: The Red Coast
WHEN: DAY :036 - DAY :037
SUMMARY: A multiverse away, new hatches wake on the Station. On Hyrypia, the Garstall hunt begins in earnest - and wraps up with terrible consequences.
WARNINGS: Animal hunting and slaughter, death, Bad Times at Ridgemont High. Need something added? PM the mod account!

STATION 72
DAY :036

THE HATCH - NEW HOSTS
YOU WAKE UP and the universe and you in it are altered. --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 from a very deep sleep or coming up from the darkness of some wine colored sea. Nothing is different and yet everything is.

You find yourself lying in a small, hexagonal chamber with a gentle light emanating from its walls. If you were injured during your escape, you're now 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 until you disconnect the IV running from the base of your neck to the chamber wall.

Then 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.

Eventually you find your way out of the pod, having found whatever belongings you brought with you and a change of crisp white clothes in a cubby near your feet. Once you descend to the Nesting Deck, 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.
EXPLORE the strange environment you've found yourself in. The Station seems to be both infinitely vast and strangely small. It's possible to wander along halls and through chambers for hours, only to turn a corner and find yourself in a place you've already been because your mind happened to think of it.

PREPARE for what's to come. Not long after your arrival, a pair of aliens arrive in a dark ship bearings mission kits for everyone. Get changed into your disguises, brush up on your mission briefing, and ask what questions you have while you can. It isn't long before you're loaded onto the ship and leave the Station behind.

HYRYPIA - THE RED COAST
DAY :036

A CALLING
A FAMILIAR FEELING to those that know it is sign enough that the elder hosts must depart to fetch whoever it is remains on the station. But this time, it's not just two of them that strike out under the cover of night. Instead, all four of them make their way from Whalsome House.

( We will not be gone long. ) Collector’s voice is a cheerful lilt in their minds as she gathers a book in hand. ( Try to have only pleasant stories for me, when we return. )

And with that Rhan, The Collector, Siva'co and Lyr are gone. They take with them the comatose Hosts and leave the rest to their own devices.

HYRYPIA - THE RED COAST
DAY :037

THE HUNT
DAWN BREAKS over a coastline already bustling with activity. The day has finally come to take those long boats out beyond the shallows and hunt the massive serpent-like Garstall in earnest. A familiar horn is blown and anyone who wishes to participate files down onto the beach and is divided into groups, a dozen or two people for each boat. There's a celebratory air to the whole affair, a true pleasure in taking the boats out into the sea. For all that the Barithian Hunt was anxious and quiet and tense, this is is a day of laughter and shouting and singing rowing songs as the boats slash their way through the open water toward the massive creatures roiling through the deeper water off the coast.
SHORT HANDED might not be the first thought that comes to mind on the bustling ships, but at some point during the hunt it becomes clear that Keya isn't present despite the fact that she's been attending every training session. Should anyone ask, one of the Descendants confesses that Keya skipped the hunt because Shee Naraxa secured a meeting between her and the heads of House Tyrisson concerning "her peace talk idea." The news seems to surprise one of the other Descendants; while it’s difficult to read her expression, it’s clear this is not what she expected to hear. She remains tense for the remainder of the voyage.

FINDING THE GARSTALL is simple enough for the experienced sailors of the Red Coast. They look for signs where the water’s color is more pronounced and where the waves seem to stir in unusual directions. They direct those who have less to do with controlling the fickle vessels to keeping a weather eye out for these signs, and to let out a cry when they spot them. Once a Garstall is spotted, all the nearby boats must rally together to take it.

ONCE SPOTTED what had been a pleasant but almost routine sail becomes something far different. Orders and directions are shouted down the lengths of the vessels. Hunters are armed and those in charge of ballast set to their stations.

The boats maneuver incredibly well for their size, their narrowness slashing through the sea to close on the Garstall that has risen near the surface. The beast is huge - larger than any single boat. It's like a great tree come to life, a twisting trunk of a body in the waves. The ships cut in separate directions, and when the signal horn sounds then the hunt truly begins. Hunters begin to hurl harpoons into the waves, aiming for the Garstall's sinuous body.

When the harpoons find their target, the whole boat shudders and tips. There's shouting and some laughter, the eager deck hands compensating for the drag of the beast by sliding weight across the deck to the opposite side of the boat. On one of the boats, a line snaps and sends the ship springing back the opposite direction - several of the sailors thrown into the water even as the hunters lose their footing. On another boat they fail to slide the ballast quickly enough and the Garstall wrenches them forward as it attempts to dive, leaving the other two boats attached to the beast attempting to compensate. On still another boat, they subdue a smaller beast much more easily. Sailors line the boat's side as one of the crewmen slides down the harpoon line, knife in hand to finish the job.

It’s a chaotic experience - but a successful one.

RAISE A BLADE, RAISE A GLASS
IN THE AFTERMATH of the successful hunt, the Garstall's massive carcasses are dredged up into the shallows. It's hot work to beach the massive animal. Once it's in the foaming purple surf, the most delicate parts of it must be stripped from the carcass before they can rot. The harvesting of the fat under the Garstall's heavy plates can wait, but the exposed flesh must be stripped promptly to avoid rot. Luckily, this work is done under the guise of celebration and the result is half slaughter and half bonfire beach party as night falls over the Red Coast.
BUTCHERY might not be the right work for everyone, but the locals leading the task are good natured and encouraging.

FEASTING on the sweet meat of the Garstall is a given. Huge slabs of meat are roasted over equally massive fires as the work is completed. Drinks are passed around. Music is played. Fashionably late, the heads of Tyrisson House come down for their manor (for a split second in the company of Shee Naraxa before she peels away to join the rest of the Descendants) to give another cheerful speech. The work is hard but rewarding, and for a moment the tenor of this place is so very good.

A DREADFUL DISCOVERY
BUT A MONSTER IS HUNTING and just after the speech, a horrifying sense of dread grips the Hosts. It's sickening - a vomiting, visceral wrongness that reaches out of the universe and finds the symbiote and the Host mind and sinks its hooks there exactly as it did that night on the road from Naerstone. Should anyone follow that dreadful sensation, they'll find themselves in the twisted orchard near Tyrisson House, mist clinging low to the ground in the chilling evening, lit only by a pale moon. What waits for them there is a pitch black circle scorched into the loamy earth - so exact and so precisely like the one discovered so many days earlier. And near this perfect circle: the broken body of Keya, her throat split open and blood still wet on the ground.

NEW FRIENDS (OF ALL SHAPES AND SIZES)
NEWS OF THE MURDER SPREADS and all the envoys are encouraged to return to their quarters for their safety while those in the employ of Tyrisson house secure the area-- encouragement which turns to insistence until all the members of the Envoys have returned their respective housing. Lights are lit in every courtyard and at every corner. Tension runs high. During this time, as the Hosts wait in their own row of Whalsome House's low stone buildings, company arrives:
A VISITOR arrives with a special request. An older Descendant wrapped in a heavy cloak with a deep hood comes knocking. When she reveals her face, Lakshmi might recognize her as Keya's aunt. "My name is Casiria," she says. "I believe you knew my niece."

It’s clear from her demeanor that she has far more to say before she goes.

FAMILIAR FRIENDS in the shape of newly hatched hosts and your senior chaperones arrive not long after Casiria's departure. They find their way to Whalsome House in a hush, having apparently faced some difficulty in dodging the added security. Better catch everyone up quickly.

((OOC Notes: This log serves as a general catch-all for events from DAY :036 through DAY :037. Please feel free to create your logs outside of this one, though we strongly recommend not forward-dating to the following morning. Please be aware that in the context of this log, new Hosts won't be present on Hyrypia until after Casiria has left. 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 )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ It's instinctive, the way she subsumes her loss into rage, the way she sharpens and aims it at the easiest target. She can pin the blame on Keya's death on Lyr, he was at the orchard, the same as she can pin it on herself, she was there too. A figure of calm consolation she is not, and she breaks rank to rush toward the agent to try and grab him by the collar, the arm, anything.

It is aggression redirected, misplaced. It should've been you. It should've been me. This is as much about Keya as it is about Shinji and about all the other lost ones. The fury in her voice is equally impotent. It's useless, useless. ]

What did you do?

Misato. [ Reflexive and sharp, his mind tensed in warning. He makes no move to intercept her: his steps fall measured and even, stop before he's reached her. ] Misato c'mon.

( Leave him. ) [ Urgency he can't suppress or conceal, a cold snap. ]

[ They got a kid killed. That's echoing around Seth's head as he draws up beside Annie, arms crossed. He wants a drink more than he wants to be here, head clouded with other people's rage and guilt. It's cloying, suffocating him as he grits his teeth.

Rust's closer, so Seth doesn't bother reaching to intervene just yet. If anyone comes up with an answer, he'll decide what to do then. ]

[Suffice to say, Lyr isn't anticipating to be snatched by the lapels and Misato's hands manage that much at least as he's tangled in the act of unpinning the elaborate overcoat he's wearing. The man cringes immediately, instinctively bringing up his spare hand not to strike her but to cover his face. It's punctuated by a sharp, razoring sensation: a white hot spark of latent anxiety piercing the murmuring pool of Lyr's habitually placid mind.

Rhan's there almost immediately, a would-be perfect mirror to Rust's position if she wasn't bristling like a cat brushed in the wrong direction.]

Easy there, darling. He didn't do anything.

[ Misato doesn't flinch at any of the reprimands, her grip sure, her feet planted on the ground. But she has had years of telling empty threats from real ones, and thinks Rhan's softened words the most threatening of all. She doesn't let go of Lyr as much as she shoves him back with the full weight of her body, whatever that's worth. It isn't enough, not even when she lowers her voice or when she levels him a look of resentment. Misguided, yet again. ]

You were there. [ The accusation is double-edged. See, she was there too, just as guilty as he could possibly be. What a thrilling sensation it is to toe the line between survival and self-destruction. ] You were at the orchard right where we found Keya. What were you really doing? Tell them.

[He staggers backwards, clearly not anticipating being shoved anymore than being grabbed first thing through the door. But Rhan is there, catching him by the shoulder to keep him righted. She promptly begins to straighten his missed clothes until Lyr slaps her fingers away. For a moment he's-- rattled, piecemeal, scattershot of confusion leaking through thst tenuous, ill-shaped bond neither of them has any control of.

Then a piece clicks. He straightens his own collar, hand shaking from some remaining edge of adrenaline even as his mind reorders itself.]

The girl's dead, isn't she? [He makes a soft noise, thinks Damn, then goes sharper still.] The rabadocean leaving here must have had some connection then.

[That's in no way an answer to her demands, is it? The rhythm has all the signs of thinking aloud, though after a moment he does look to the rest of the room, then to Misato.] What is her relation to this?

Stop being such a stupid suspicious bitch. Jesus fucking christ.

[ She kicks her legs where she's sitting, eyes rolling back in her head. ]

It's her fucking aunt. Fuck.

[ Annoyance—as with a bee sting, a mosquito bite—at Annie's carelessly tossing out the answer to Lyr's question. It goes unscratched, unacknowledged.

Rust doesn't move until it's all played out, his mind centered on Lyr's—distant, but focused, seeking a pattern in the shards of his thoughts. He lays a hand on Misato's arm. ] ( Don't tell them shit until we have to. )

[ He'll back away if Misato follows suit, giving the man some space but no additional time to collect his thoughts. ] Now I'm interested. What the hell's she talking about?

Enough.

[Siva'co's mind is a stone, cold and solid and inflexible, heavy enough to crush.]

Tell us what happened. Now.

[His pupiless eyes glance at Rust- and then past him, before settling heavily on Misato. She had said she would become what she needed to be. The thought is carved into the stone.]

[A brush flutter of Collector's mind, she doesn't seem to care that Siva'co presumably has put his foot down.] ( What is it you imagine he has done? I am quite curious. He has a melancholic cast, but few attribute any great feats of violence to him. )

[ Annie has tossed the answer on the floor for all to see. The aunt. That says too little of what really matters, so Rust's reprimand still has value. She neither acknowledges nor brushes off the hand on her arm, when she would rather stand stock still and use only her gaze to apportion the requisite amount of blame to each of the people present. Keya's blood is on all their hands, hers most of all.

She responds first to Collector. ]

You don't have to be the one to pull the trigger to be party to a murder.

[ She herself would know, right? But it is to Siva'co that she answers most surely, steadily, without anger in her words. ]

We felt it again when you were at the Station. That sick feeling. So I followed it. We found Keya dead at the orchard, where he [ And I. ] was walking. [ To Lyr: ] Do you know what else we found?

If you're going to accuse him, stop beating around the bush and do it.

[ The dysfunction of this assembly is grating on Seth's already frayed nerves. Rust's caution makes sense, but it's not making a dent in Misato's laser-focused assault on these other aliens. Seth wants to skip to the end, where Misato leaves off the dramatics and they get to the useful part of the conversation. ]

You'll have to speak frankly, darling. I don't think he has any idea what you found. [Rhan says, purposefully all lightness and air (that must, by how blunted her smile is, be tantamount to snapping)--

Lyr interrupts:] A second charred circle?

[Rhan shuts her mouth with a click and Lyr resumes unbuttoning his cloak and the highest buttons of his Carbauschian outer tunic. He starts to move past them, attempting to free himself from this tangle of Hosts just inside the door and make his way to his bunk space.] What will our hosts make of it, I wonder? 'Host' in the traditional sense of the word, not-- [he punctuates it with a vague gesture around the room: all of us.

He fixates again on Misato from his reasonably safe distance:] What exactly is it you think I've done?

[ Petulance still rears its head from the way she levels a look, smug, at Seth the moment after Lyr interrupts with his answer. See, to be able to fill in her story is in itself an admission of something, if not outright guilt. It was a gamble, one that the agent calls to the fore with his question, because her answer is only I don't know. ]

Why don't you tell us why you know that instead?

[ But she allows Lyr his safe distance, even tempering her voice to quiet restraint. ]

I don't think the suspicion will fall to us yet. The Tyrisson maybe, or Shee Naraxa, who were last seen with her. We made a deal with her aunt. [ A nod to Annie, despite her delivery. ] She wants us to challenge Keya's murderer to a duel, but told us to wait until she's beyond doubt.

[There, in the disturbed pond shape of his mind surfaces the shape of something-- smug. It's just the faintest tang of hubris, the sour and sweet pleasure on the tongue that comes with knowing and being self-satisfied with his own intelligence. Because it's a logical conclusion, it says, but what he speaks is:]

You said yourself that the feeling from that night was replicated. Originally, that sense of danger led you out into the Graze near where the first circle was found. The most obvious result of feeling it again would be discovering something from that initial encounter replicated. A body is beside it is less obvious; I seem to recall there have been a few of those turning up without that accompaniment of that instinctive triggering of the symbiote. What's of more interest to me is the girl's aunt - you say she wanted to challenge the murderer to a duel? Then surely she must have a suspect in mind.

[Freed finally from his cloak, Lyr tosses it across the bunk and sits there alongside it at the edge of the mattress. To Siva'co, in a clear departure from whatever Misato might care to say in response:]

It seems Rhan and I have made ourselves seem very untrustworthy.

[An answer, maybe, to the sharpening edge of Rhan's mind - a pervasive memory of her and Bellamy in the Tyrisson town pub. Regardless, it's clearly as close to humor as Lyr strays. Rhan snorts.]

You need to stop talking. You'll get yourself in trouble.

Edited (jk, words are hard) 2018-01-22 07:18 (UTC)

[Rhan's words are met with a swift and sudden rise of anger from Siva'co- more than just the stern, metallic martial, that firm unflappable sense of order. It's a hot flash- flaring up sudden and overwhelming and unguarded.]

There is no trouble! From these? [He gestures shortly around him at the others, a sharp bark- and it is almost a bark, somewhat guttural- a clipping warning answered back from Collector- a blanket to smother the flames]

( We will send them back. We do not want them. )

[The feeling of it- indignant, angry, weary- feeds into the minds alongside his own- Collector makes a noise- one of the first she has, a soothing croon.]

( Be easy. Now please, while I am sure this is a very exciting tale, it seems to me the true story is as twisting as it need be on it's own. While Lyr may have no feelings to hurt, it may be best you give him the benefit of imagining he does. )

[A joked- but the pleasantness feels forced, by this point. Pressed into her fellow mind's like a stamp upon them.]

[ Collector pacifying Siva'co, Rhan propping up Lyr, Rust himself the counterpoint to Misato—in the wake of Siva'co's blinding flash of temper, Rust wonders what they'd be without these relations. If they stopped holding each other back.

A part of him would like to see it. Not the part that prevails.

His mind's guarded, no disguising it, a kind of shifting defensiveness. Keyed-up restraint. To Siva'co, to the four of them, he says: ] If you've got an explanation ready for the disappearance of your entire fucking delegation the night of a violent crime, shit, I don't know why you needed us to begin with.

( You better apologize. Restore the status quo. ) [ He says to Misato, even as he turns to Lyr.

She must have a suspect in mind, he'd said. Rust doesn't think the name, thinks about Casiria's voice instead. Low, stiff with grief. I mean to discover the culprit on my own. The phrase she'd used, matters of revenge.

With an equanimity at odds with the intensity of his focus he says: ] You still haven't answered her question. What you were up to [ he prompts, anticipating some display of guilelessness ] in the orchard.

Edited (I'M DONE EDITING I SWEAR) 2018-01-22 13:53 (UTC)

[ Watching this idiotic exchange... Annie is filled with exhaustion. Exhaustion and sorrow. Such a fucking disaster in the making, a bunch of incompatible assholes all fighting each other like cats and dogs. Incapable of the team work necessary. They're all going to fucking die. ]

Fuck you both.

[ Misato and Rust alike. Goddamn is she tired of fighting with them over everyone's fucking intentions. ]

I'm done with you two.

[ She leaves them to it, disgusted. ]

[ Seth's expression curdles into disgust. Fucking amateurs cracks like a whip in the wake of it all, incredulous at Misato latching onto Lyr espousing something they all knew as proof. They're grasping, letting paranoia drive them away from anything productive. She wants them to be guilty, so any answer they gave was close enough to proof. It was a waste of everyone's time.

Part of it has to be Shinji, amping Misato up. Seth won't square with that loss himself, but he'd felt it rip through the Nest. For someone so quiet and unobtrusive, Shinji had left a hell of a hole in his wake. But just like at the funeral, Seth doesn't accept it as an excuse. Annie's exit presents an enticing alternative to watching this bullshit unfold, and feeling Richie's mind pinging in the back of his head settles the decision. ]

I'll skip the rest of this Keystone Cops routine too. Have fun, kids.

[ If there's something worth knowing, it'll leak out one way or another. Seth doesn't need to be here to watch Misato and Rust wind each other up chasing shadows. He stalks out in Annie's wake, the pull of Richie's mind guiding his steps. ]

[ Misato escalates even the smallest confrontation into a grand trial worth the main show, claiming the largest space allowed her, talking over everybody else. The departure of Seth and Annie leaves behind the vacuum that she quickly fills by taking yet another step forward, standing in the middle, stealing the show.

She shakes her head slowly, less defiant and more solemn, and still she lacks the courtesy to refrain from pointing directly at their receding backs. ]

Watch them go. There's never been any trust in this corner of the Nest.

[ It's as close to an apology as Lyr might get, this it's not you, it's everyone. ]

I already told you about Keya's aunt, now it's your turn. Then we can get to the blow-by-blow of the Garstall hunt.

What do you know about trust?

[ Asuka drawls from her seat. She's been watching the show, opting to stay silent. She can't resist getting a jab in, throwing another dart to ping off of Misato's armor. This seems serious and important and for some reason she can't bring herself to care that much. It's just people tearing each other up. Like always. ]

We get it, you're upset about Ikari. Stop dragging it out and forcing it on other people.

Edited 2018-01-23 04:40 (UTC)

[Lexa is here—was here, to be more specific, a silent wallflower off to the side, not inputting anything further because she hoped to see it play out. Misato's willfulness shines brightly here. Misato's willingness to accuse is what stands out all the more: it means that she's taken the strides that Lexa herself doesn't need to take.

Only after several have departed does she seem to announce herself—through the mental link, like a feeling of ash hitting the ground after a fire, like she's ready to sweep it away.]

When you do explain—[to Rhan, Lyr, and the others, of course]—I'd appreciate an explanation about this sense of danger. We've never experienced it before. You speak of it like you're familiar with it. But we are not.

[And then, without words, she brushes her mind against Misato's. Acknowledgement. She hopes to speak later.]

[Collector’s answer to Rust is just as quick, a clever twist, half words and half intent-]

( Do you have an explanation for why a violent crime occurred only when we left you to your own devices? ) [It was so easy to flip the question, wasn’t it?

Siva’co’s answer to her comes sharp and insistent- not words, a wall, impenetrable, endlessly tall- enough. No more games.]

[Collector shrugs- a borrowed, somewhat unnatural motion on her. From the edge of his bunk, Lyr undoes a few hooks and eyes to open the high collar of his tunic. He grimaces, working his fingers between skin and fabric while speaking across his wrist:]

As it turns out, I was taking a walk in an inconvenient place. The orchard is similar to a place I was once familiar with - I thought it might bring my thoughts in line.

[It isn't Lyr's mind through which the image leaks, but Rhan's: an orderly garden with a series of fruiting waist high bushes - a tang of some sweet flower smell - and in the distance two figures that seem familiar to the memory if not those experiencing it. It's film viewed through a filter - some thought of Lyr's translated through Rhan and poured voluntarily or otherwise into the connection between all of them.]

( As for our timing, poor study. We did not think it was so dire of a situation. The girl was making little traction, and it seemed as though the coast was peaceful- )

Well-- [Does strange animal attacks in the night count? Let's go with 'more peaceful than anticipated,' shall we?]

( --enough. )

[Siva’co speaks again, finally, still obviously tense- still thinking of what distrust could sow among troops. The rationale that went into executing soldiers who stole from their own. A reality his people had nearly eliminated the need for by seeing to it that they were all raised to believe that such a thing was- unthinkable. There are barbs and thorns that circle his thoughts.] ( Who does the aunt think did the killing? )

[Given the patience of just about everyone in the room, rather than fully dovetail them from Siva'co's demand (heaven help her if she undermine him in this moment, eh?) Rhan instead just opens herself up in the interim. It's gutting a fish: sea salt and brine tang and guts spilling out. The four of them on the transport ship, skimming high above the Hyrypian clouds and then dropping like an invisible stone. There: a distant shadow on the horizon - a spectacular spire pale in the night--

Hyrypia is terribly backwater, isn't it? There's only so many ways to access intergalactic communications.

War updates, Rhan thinks. It's brittle like baked parchment paper.]

[ Misato's gaze follows Lyr, eyes fixing on his hands and the unnatural grimace. She should be pleased, if she were so angry at him, but isn't. Pity feels so alien in this room, like a bitter aftertaste on her tongue, and she refuses to interrogate its origins, not when the call comes from Asuka. So, she withdraws, squaring her shoulders to look at Siva'co. ]

The Admiral.

[ It isn't undermining if she has answered his question surely. ]

What's that? Something you've been working on, Rhan?

( What? ) [ Collector's feather-light touch meets with wrenching confusion, impatience at having to double back, explain. ] ( I'm not accusing you—there's no sending us back without drawing attention, is what I'm saying. Return policy's lapsed. )

[ He's suspicious, sure—of their evasions, the scanty details about the capital-E Enemy, their entrenchment in the fucking nest—but he doesn't think any of them'd had to wash blood off their hands this evening. It doesn't fit with any of the evidence, not the tracks or the bead in his pocket.

He'd seen an opportunity to demand a rare answer, for whatever it was worth. Had piggybacked on Misato's outrage.

The opportunity vanished, he falls silent. Grasps for his answer, a second-hand memory, a scent he tries and fails to catalogue, two figures that refuse to resolve. Takes in Rhan's—it's a demonstration, really, in efficiency and candor. (Why had all four of them gone, though? What was worth that risk?)

Rust nods, quick, when Misato gives the name. ] Don't suppose you'd know anything about him.

Edited 2018-01-25 21:38 (UTC)

[Rust’s quick correction- and was he more open?- is answered with a blink, a dip of her head-] ( My apologies, the tale seemed to be twisting into one of suspicion and paranoia... )

[It was so much easier when you didn’t attempt to hide your intentions, but that is barely a reprimand of any kind (considering their own behavior). She liked a challenge, books with locks had the best stories- Oh, and he makes a good point, doesn’t he? The prodding of that thought directs to Siva’co, who makes a small, answering noise: in no way convinced. Still locked down to hard angles and mind of spikes.

But at the mention of the Admiral, there's a swift exchange - a glance between them shared by more than eyes as Collector's attention shifts toward Lyr. The feeling of eyebrows raising--]

( That could track. )

[Lyr hums, rubs his eye and looks to Rhan. It feels like a question mark written on cold press paper. She looks to Misato.]

You've all been very good at looking at what's happening here in the Pilgrimage, but I find sometimes it doesn't hurt to go a bit broader - speaking literally. We don't get much news beyond the immediate, and I'm interested in what's happening out there. As it turns out there's a war on, my dear. [A flashing smile - some attempt at cheer even if it doesn't quite penetrate anywhere else.] Hyrypia uses a small selection of data transfer spires to channel information in and out of system. If you want news about battles or gossip from off-world informants -- well, you go to where you can get it. I've a few friends in low places doing some dirty work for me. Er-- [she corrects herself:] For us, rather. We've been working to make sense of what intel you pick up here and what we hear from out there.

( It’s the sort of information that doesn’t mean much if you haven’t spent a year learning everything you can about a galaxy. Most of it will mean little to anyone who hasn’t. Please don’t imagine we keep it as secrets, merely that we consider it to be a distraction from what it is we need you for. We need your eyes on the here and now. We between us have only 8 and that is far from enough to see what you can see- or meet who you can meet. The aunt did not come here because of our actions. ) [The words are gentle and encouraging- more than she would normally think necessary, but perhaps it would soothe ruffled feathers on- one end, if not her brood’s.]

( As for the Admiral, it has been difficult to track down the whole of anyone’s tale. The record keeping in this universe is less than complete and what there is tends to be scattered in a hundred directions. We’ve done our best to piece them together, but in the time we’ve had, there is much still hidden. There are gaps in his history, but it’s hard to discern whether they’re suspicious, or merely lost in a drawer somewhere, forgotten. ) [A minor irritation- stories worked best when you knew the whole of them. The themes didn’t play out right otherwise.]

He is secretive, powerful, and martially minded, even while his people are often not. Many see him as a necessity of a war the Descendants claim to want little part in, but will not abandon. [The words are blunt and without lightness. Ruffled feathers.]

We've been doing this [background checks] for most of the envoy leads, by the by. [It's as close to a drawl as Lyr is capable of; he pats his breast pocket where that little booklet must be living.]

(no subject)

wille - 2018-02-04 13:42 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[mission: hyrypia] big, but not coarse - merely on another scale

no subject

no subject

no subject

lyr: https://i.gyazo.com/c899946cd98c13d39636e46c4ddfbe7d.png

http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2015/08/25/08/2BA3F2EE00000578-3209795-image-a-25_1440487894767.jpg

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

sorry my previous tag was apparently...incomprehensible /attempts a course correction

no subject

(no subject)