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

[onemind]

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 )

Comments

[shiro2hero]

[He doesn't understand what's happening to Bucky. Neither does this thing in his head. The frantic sense of save them - save him dulled by the power in his brain. The ability he'd so often fought against, instead of given into. It keeps him on the task at hand. Even as pieces start connecting.]

[feels like she's losing herself, piece by piece]

[Pidge.]

[He's got to get to her too. To make sure she's keeping her head above water because he promised and they're all they've got and he... has to keep going forward. Because the person he's holding now is clinging onto him, onto them and this is life and death. This is blood on his robes, hot and heavy against the skin beneath.]

[They're not losing anyone else.]

(Elena.)

[An agreement, and a warning. All he knows how to say before his legs are moving. Before he's following the order without a second thought, and the name is thundering in his head. Calling out to her.]

(Elena!)

[otrazhenie]

[ That gentle brush against her mind turns her attention from where she'd been walking with Gildor, but it's Shiro's voice crashing through her mind that shakes her to her core. Fear grips tightly around her heart as she takes half a second to look around, make sure it's only Hosts nearby, and then she runs, little more than a blur as she instinctively pushes herself to move at her vampiric speed.

She doesn't know where they are exactly, but she's spent enough time around Shiro to be able to at least know a direction — it gets her close enough to smell the blood. Sam's blood, she'd know it anywhere, and it's terrifying. There's so much blood, she doesn't have a choice; she reaches out to Gildor, no words, just a need and plea for him to follow the way she'd come, hurry now. ]

[shiro2hero]

[It's good that it's her. Very good. That she's meeting them halfway is even better. It doesn't outright calm the monster in his head, the rage he's using to keep himself from losing another sort of control. But it helps. It helps to sense her coming.]

[Even if he's standing hunched over Sam in his arms, shoulders curled in and eyes locked on her. Wary. He knows her. It does not. He knows she'll help, she can fix this. It doesn't want to let go -- the sensation of something huge, angry, pacing slow circles around them.]

[Please is there, too. A shaking, barely-held thread of calm.]

[It doesn't want to kneel at her feet, show her the damage, the source of all the blood. He makes it -- teeth bared, defensive, all but growling at the offense of giving up someone this important.]

(I trust you)

[He makes it quiet enough to tell her that much, at least.]

[perroquet]

[ He's slow to find them - slower from wretched, guilty hangover - though he hurries after Elena. Follows her following a mental plea that's more like a growl. That, and the smell of blood. It makes his stomach curl and threaten to give his supper back, but Gildor swallows hard and continues forward- and the mental music that usually accompanies his presence is weirdly silent.

He stops just a few feet shy of Elena, Shiro, and the wounded party. Hesitant, but taking in the scene as best he can. Blood and the lingering scent of burnt flesh clinging to fabric continue to fill his and the senses of those around him. Frantic movements reveal their forms through the earth. Bodies tense with adrenaline support and hover around one that's going slack, slipping. ]

Where is the wound? [ He asks, voice steady in seriousness as his mind harkens back to the many times he has asked this very question. Some days living in a temple was more like living in an emergency room, if he could make the modern relation. Bard magic worked just as well as a cleric's for patching up bloodied paladins dragged through their doors, desperate for healing spells.

But first, another clipped question to Elena - she arrived first and may already be healing, and he wouldn't want to interrupt a process he doesn't know- ] Do you have this?

[otrazhenie]

[ By the time Gil arrives, Elena's pulled up her sleeve and bitten into her own skin, blood pooling up as she peels away the veils from Sam's face. In that moment, she doesn't give a damn about keeping their cover — Sam could die and she refuses to let that happen. Pressing her bleeding wrist to his mouth, she urges him— ]

( Drink! )

[ And then Gildor is there and she turns her head to look at him, an unsettled urgency and thread of panic leaking through their connection. ]

It's his neck. I need you to help, it's too risky to just leave it to my blood. If he dies—

[ He'd be a vampire, and she doesn't want that for him. What it something went wrong with the symbiote, what if it doesn't take or he becomes something else? They can't take that chance. They have to fix him, here, now. ]

[shiro2hero]

[He's breathing raggedly, harshly. Forcing it to stay kneeling at Elena's feet as she drops, as she pulls at Sam's disguise. It can smell her blood, and so can he. He knows what she's doing, but its defensive nature flares up again. Elena bleeding, Sam is bleeding, Keya is dead, Clint is gone, it needs to fight, to do something besides sit here--]

[His own head is bowed, his own veils hanging to cover what Elena may have exposed of Sam. Only to have it snap back up as someone else approaches. Someone it doesn't recognize as friend, as family, as anything but another body. And it bares his teeth at them.]

[Something dangerously close to a snarl in his throat, as the wild animal in his brain all but threatens to yank Sam away from them. To take him and run. He knows Elena can help. But all it knows is the smell of blood and the insane drive to protect.]

[Muscles tense. Ready to spring if need be, while he wrestles with it, trying his damnedest to keep his body where it is. Which... becomes especially difficult when Elena speaks. That anger, the thing, sparks up to a flare, bright as stars. And the snarl returns.]

(He won't die! I won't let it happen!)

[Though whether that roar of denial was from Shiro or from his symbiote power, who knows.]

[perroquet]

[ Elena doesn't need to finish her sentence for Gildor to understand the gravity of the wound, though he does not know of the additional consequence her healing blood carries. And oh, if he knew- if Lakshmi knew-

But that is another worry for another time. ]

He will not die.

[ He says quite sternly, the tone not aimed at Elena but the snarling voice forcing it's way into their thoughts. The collective panic is dangerously infectious without the addition of something wild lurking beyond the dark of Gildor's consciousness, pacing like an animal. He tries to ignore it and the nauseating blood smell as he inhales and, like Elena, gets to work. His staff is placed on the ground as he swiftly kneels, removes his gloves, and rolls up his sleeves.

Sam's cut is wet under his hand when he finds it - soaked and startlingly clean cut. It can't be comfortable when he adds his hand and clamps down on it, (sorry Sam - and Shiro) but some things remain universal in healing - pressure first. Gildor breathes in through once more and, (after swallowing down a gag) opens his mouth to sing- ]

Sleep, sleep, next to the wall outside, next to the wall outside
Sleep, sleep, next to the wall outside, next to the wall outside

[ Under his hand, the wound begins to seal. There is no gentle clerical healing light, but a warm positive energy is present. It flows from Gildor to Sam as he uses the lullaby as a focus. While he can't do anything for the loss of blood, he can at least prevent the loss of any more- ]

The blackbird and the raven, go to sleep, go to sleep
The blackbird and the crow, go to sleep, go to sleep

The robin and the lark, go to sleep, go to sleep
The wren and the thrush, go to sleep, go to sleep



((ooc: song credit))

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Sam drinks without hesitation when Elena pushes her wrist at him. If he were more coherent, he'd probably make a not appropriate joke about how usually it's the other way around when they do this. But he's barely clinging to consciousness as it is, mind flickering in and out and held in place mostly by the burn of rage that circles protectively around him.

He's not with it enough to be able to tell what's happening or who the new arrival is - but it must be someone Elena trusts if she's asking for help, and that's enough for Sam.

But it's not enough for what prowls in Shiro's head, and Sam'd know that even if he couldn't feel the surge of anger as Shiro starts snarling again. Sam lets go of the fabric he'd been pressing against his throat, trusting the figure who kneels next to him, and reaches up to grab at the back of Shiro's neck.

It's a symbolic gesture more than anything else, considering his grip is too damn weak to do anything to physically stop Shiro from lunging at someone invading his space - there's a moment where he almost blacks out again, but he clings on, like fingers tangled tightly in fur as he mentally yanks him back in.

Stay. Focus on the real threat, make sure nothing interrupts them.

Warmth spills around him as the wound starts to close, his breathing slowly starting to become less wet and ragged, and Sam focuses on that, tries to pull his thoughts together enough to send something soothing across his connection with Shiro. ]

( It's okay. It's okay, I'm gonna be okay, you did good. Good boy. )

[otrazhenie]

[ Even if they all knew what her blood could do, even if they argued against her using it, she wouldn't give them a choice. She can hear how unsteady Sam's heartbeat is, strained in a way that can't be pinned purely upon an adrenaline rush. Gil is closing up the wound, but Sam's still lost a lot of blood.

Luckily, with each second that passes, she can also hear that heartbeat getting stronger, her blood working to repair the damage done to his system. Elena pulls her hand back and takes a moment to wipe the back of her gloved fingers along the edge of Sam's mouth, cleaning up a dribble of blood as best she can. The wonderful benefits of vampire blood, being able to heal just about anything, but she's so grateful for Gil's help. Just in case isn't something to be trifled with when it comes to someone who means as much to her as Sam does. ]

You're gonna be okay, Sam. [ And she finally believes it, relief surging through her as she realizes it's true. ]

[shiro2hero]

[He definitely starts to lunge when the strange arm is in range. Starts, because this is not Elena's hand. This is someone else. It doesn't know this man -- this person who's touching what is his what is theirs. And Sam is not in any kind of shape to defend himself. It bares his teeth, curls his lip, and his head starts to move before Sam's hand settles on his neck.]

[Focus.]

[The thing in his mind settles back. Settles for holding onto Sam. Eyes locked on Elena for guidance. For a signal. It continues circling, continues holding onto Sam's mind, sinking claws into him to hold him here. I/they/we can't lose him. It won't be around much longer -- it always ends up burning itself out like a dying star before too long. They have to get this handled before that happens.]

[Elena speaks.]

[His head snaps up to her. Eyes darting wildly between her and the person It doesn't recognize -- they're wide, dilated like a tense cat's. Trying to see if it's true. If this is really okay now. Before it lets him move. Before it lets him take Sam somewhere, and falls quiet itself.]

[Tell him it's true, that it's okay now.]

[perroquet]

Little bird, little bird, sleep, sleep
Little bird, little bird, sleep, sleep

[ The warmth fades with the song, and Gildor steadily releases the pressure against Sam's neck. He runs a hand over the skin, still sickeningly slick with blood and tender, but the wound is closed in full. He may not even have a scar.

Gildor exhales as the drain of the spell weighs on him, with little relief in his thoughts. Further loss of life may no longer be imminent, but there are still things to be dealt with, like the fact that three of their number are somewhat exposed and drenched in blood, (not to mention his own splitting hangover headache). He clears his throat, voice suddenly more gruff than it was in song. ]

Right. Let Elena's blood replenish the rest of what you've lost. [ And then, to no one in particular, because he's not about to lift Sam back himself- ] Get him back to the barracks to rest. And you-

[ He points a bloody finger towards Shiro, though his aim is off by a few inches. ]

Do you also need a lullaby for that temper? [ He's quite serious. It's downright monstrous. ]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Gratitude spills out across his connection with Elena and Gildor, warmth like a pair of wings wrapped around them both. His hand covers Gildor's briefly, giving it a squeeze in thanks, before he lets it fall.

I'll be okay. It's an echo of Elena's words, not quite formed enough to be words of his own broadcasted across the link, but the idea's there, soft and reassuring.

And then he can feel the rage beast that's at the front of Shiro's mind snap up, feel his - its, Shiro likes to think of it as something separate, but Sam can't, it's all just Shiro to him - anger grow, and Sam's grip on the back of his neck tightens. ]

No. It's okay.

[ His voice is rough from exertion, and he's talking to Shiro more than anything else. His mind floods Shiro's, hauling him in and demanding his attention. I'm okay, we're safe, I'm gonna be okay,, warm and soothing and mixed in with a firm direction - stand down I need you here with me - he needs -

He feels like he owes them an explanation - a warning, maybe, of what they're gonna find if they keep following that feeling of dread. Sam was too late; it's nothing but a crime scene now. ]

( Keya. ) [ He doesn't know if either of them know her - knew her - but there's an image of her in his mind, smiling over a braided bracelet. ] ( I tried to save her. I thought- ) [ -hoped, he hoped- ] ( -we wouldn't be too late, but she's gone. Nothing I could do. )

[ It's like I was up there just to watch echoes briefly, but he cuts it off. It's not the first time he's shown up too late, hardly the only person who's died on him despite his best efforts - but it's the first time it's happened with Bucky's programming whispering at the back of his mind, with Shiro's rage burning hot and bright in the front.

He's never dealt with both at once. It's only barely better now, but he can't - one at a time, Shiro's almost at his limit, he's gotta focus on that. He can't think about anything else, can't let the rage get riled up again. ]

( We're safe, Shiro. )