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Entry tags:
- *hatch log,
- adam parker [original],
- ahsoka tano [star wars],
- anakin skywalker [star wars],
- anduin wrynn [world of warcraft],
- angel [borderlands],
- aoba seragaki [dramatical murder],
- ares [vagrant soldier ares],
- cathaway,
- hux [star wars],
- ilde vilmaine [original],
- illyria [angel],
- kylo ren [star wars],
- lexa [the 100],
- michelle benjamin [kings],
- nathaniel horn [original],
- rosemarie strauss [original],
- steve rogers [mcu],
- the prince
[HATCH LOG] IS ANYONE THERE?
CHARACTERS: All
WHERE: Station 72
WHEN: Day :150
SUMMARY: Today is the day you wake up.
WARNINGS: None; will edit if necessary.
A MOMENT AGO it seemed like you willingly took the hand of someone beckoning to safety.
NOW YOU WAKE UP in one of many chambers of Station 72’s nesting deck. If you had wounds, they’re (mostly) gone; if you had doubts they are - for the split second between dreaming and waking - gently reassured. This is correct. This is right. You’re safe here. The only question is what here is exactly.
The compartment you find yourself in is small, though gently padded for comfort with enough elbow and head -room to not be wholly claustrophobic. Still, it’s difficult to re-orient yourself; the best way to get to the chamber’s built in ladder and down to the smooth, polished white floor of the nesting is to simply roll over onto your belly and go out feet first.
First thing’s first though: get rid of that tube running from the rear wall of the chamber to the base of your skull. The moment you’ve done that, there’s the sensation like a rubber band popping - a string in your hand being jerked. The headache that punches in falls like the heavy end of a hammer - not serious, but surprisingly abrupt - as a of combination confusion, resolve, anxiety, certainty, delight, and fear and expectation finds you. In fades after a moment, churning to a low dull pressure and a faint hum. It’s feels like standing outside the door of a small party, sounds muffled and incomprehensible. Some pieces rise and swell above the others then fall again. Strain your ears and realize you’re hearing nothing at all.
On the plus side, you’re not hooked into the compartment anymore. Slide out and onto the ladder, though not too fast or you’ll miss the small cubicle built into the wall near the mouth of the chamber. In the cubicle are all the things you brought with you, every small piece you own of the home you left behind. There’s a neatly folded pair of something like white pajamas there as well. They’re definitely in your size, though you have the option not to wear them since you’re still in the clothes you left home in. Granted, for some of you that might not exactly be a blessing. Your clothes haven’t exactly been laundered or repaired, so best hope you didn’t bleed or sweat on them too much during your escape.
Sliding free from the chamber pod and stepping out onto the ladder, you’ll find yourself in an open space. The room is broad and pale and clean, its sloping walls featuring dozens and dozens of holes like the one you just wiggled out of. There are more ladders and a few other people climbing down, or stareing, or already down on the nesting deck’s floor but the sixteen - seventeen, including yourself - people present would hardly fill even a sixth of the room’s available accommodations.
The noise is louder when you near any of the others. It’s as if you've entered the party yourself. Identifiable now is the low wash of feelings, a hum of emotions that only serves to make the slight headache worsen. They feel genuine. They feel like they could belong to you. Still, that pressure in your head doesn't worry you --Shouldn't it worry you? Does worrying - about the headache, about the world and people you left behind, or the strange place you’re in now, the odd collection of people you’re with and the fact that you feel strangely drawn to five or six of them - make the headache better? Or worse?
If you manage to push the sound aside and listen with your true ears, you'd notice you can't hear anything besides this small group of fellow hosts: their footsteps, their oddly sharp breathing. There’s no sound of traffic, no wind in the trees, no birds, no hum of a ship. Only circulating air and silence.
You may not know what a brood is, but finding yours is easy. There are minds among these strangers that call to yours, their voices louder than the rest, their feelings sharper. The nearer to you they are, the more comfortable you feel. Is that strange? You don't know them, but you do. There are few answers to be found on the nesting deck.
Eventually you will have no choice but to head out of the room. There’s only one way out that you can see: up through a spiraling hallway that arches overhead. When it opens again the space seems slightly less alien. There are doorways of a kind lining the walls and each one opens to a small, nearly normal room. There are no doors, so it's easy to see all the rooms are vacant. In seventeen of them there are items neatly stacked on the bed. Most are hygiene supplies. Some of them - a toothbrush, comb, razor - may be familiar to you. Others less so. There's a flat horizontal ledge beside the bed with a small light and a single drawer. Another table, apparently built into the wall, sits across the room with a chair. A mirror is on the desk; it’s slightly mundane and not quite to the Station’s style.
This room is yours for the moment. It doesn't mean someone won't want to trade - or take. Beyond this life support deck stretches the rest of Station 72. It is quiet and and twisting and perfectly inert.
At its most familiar, the Station is merely a still, empty ship with broad chambers and gently mottled light. At its worst, it’s an Escher painting of strange angles and bizarre platforms that seems grown as much as built. There are many ways to many places and while it seems all doors and passages open to you, there’s an unshakeable feeling that the space doesn’t quite match up - that there’s even more to the Station which you can’t yet see. Don’t get lost!
For now, you reach the floor of the nesting deck. When you do, something blooms in your mind. A voice, disturbingly lacking any identifying traits but warm and comfortable like sweetened milk, says:
( ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬...There you are...▬▬▬..Welcome to Station 72 ▬▬. )
If you follow the thread of that voice, you’ll eventually find your way either to Cathaway on the bridge or The Prince in the training wing.
((OOC Notes: Welcome to Station 72! Feel free to check out the SETTINGS page for more information about the Station. If you have any questions about the setting itself, feel free to ask them there; otherwise, please direct all questions to either the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages.
Prince’s top level should be live in the evening! Keep an eye out for it if you want him to give your character the introduction spiel instead of Cathaway.
Happy hatchday, everyone! :) ))
WHERE: Station 72
WHEN: Day :150
SUMMARY: Today is the day you wake up.
WARNINGS: None; will edit if necessary.
A MOMENT AGO it seemed like you willingly took the hand of someone beckoning to safety.
NOW YOU WAKE UP in one of many chambers of Station 72’s nesting deck. If you had wounds, they’re (mostly) gone; if you had doubts they are - for the split second between dreaming and waking - gently reassured. This is correct. This is right. You’re safe here. The only question is what here is exactly.
The compartment you find yourself in is small, though gently padded for comfort with enough elbow and head -room to not be wholly claustrophobic. Still, it’s difficult to re-orient yourself; the best way to get to the chamber’s built in ladder and down to the smooth, polished white floor of the nesting is to simply roll over onto your belly and go out feet first.
First thing’s first though: get rid of that tube running from the rear wall of the chamber to the base of your skull. The moment you’ve done that, there’s the sensation like a rubber band popping - a string in your hand being jerked. The headache that punches in falls like the heavy end of a hammer - not serious, but surprisingly abrupt - as a of combination confusion, resolve, anxiety, certainty, delight, and fear and expectation finds you. In fades after a moment, churning to a low dull pressure and a faint hum. It’s feels like standing outside the door of a small party, sounds muffled and incomprehensible. Some pieces rise and swell above the others then fall again. Strain your ears and realize you’re hearing nothing at all.
On the plus side, you’re not hooked into the compartment anymore. Slide out and onto the ladder, though not too fast or you’ll miss the small cubicle built into the wall near the mouth of the chamber. In the cubicle are all the things you brought with you, every small piece you own of the home you left behind. There’s a neatly folded pair of something like white pajamas there as well. They’re definitely in your size, though you have the option not to wear them since you’re still in the clothes you left home in. Granted, for some of you that might not exactly be a blessing. Your clothes haven’t exactly been laundered or repaired, so best hope you didn’t bleed or sweat on them too much during your escape.
Sliding free from the chamber pod and stepping out onto the ladder, you’ll find yourself in an open space. The room is broad and pale and clean, its sloping walls featuring dozens and dozens of holes like the one you just wiggled out of. There are more ladders and a few other people climbing down, or stareing, or already down on the nesting deck’s floor but the sixteen - seventeen, including yourself - people present would hardly fill even a sixth of the room’s available accommodations.
The noise is louder when you near any of the others. It’s as if you've entered the party yourself. Identifiable now is the low wash of feelings, a hum of emotions that only serves to make the slight headache worsen. They feel genuine. They feel like they could belong to you. Still, that pressure in your head doesn't worry you --Shouldn't it worry you? Does worrying - about the headache, about the world and people you left behind, or the strange place you’re in now, the odd collection of people you’re with and the fact that you feel strangely drawn to five or six of them - make the headache better? Or worse?
If you manage to push the sound aside and listen with your true ears, you'd notice you can't hear anything besides this small group of fellow hosts: their footsteps, their oddly sharp breathing. There’s no sound of traffic, no wind in the trees, no birds, no hum of a ship. Only circulating air and silence.
You may not know what a brood is, but finding yours is easy. There are minds among these strangers that call to yours, their voices louder than the rest, their feelings sharper. The nearer to you they are, the more comfortable you feel. Is that strange? You don't know them, but you do. There are few answers to be found on the nesting deck.
Eventually you will have no choice but to head out of the room. There’s only one way out that you can see: up through a spiraling hallway that arches overhead. When it opens again the space seems slightly less alien. There are doorways of a kind lining the walls and each one opens to a small, nearly normal room. There are no doors, so it's easy to see all the rooms are vacant. In seventeen of them there are items neatly stacked on the bed. Most are hygiene supplies. Some of them - a toothbrush, comb, razor - may be familiar to you. Others less so. There's a flat horizontal ledge beside the bed with a small light and a single drawer. Another table, apparently built into the wall, sits across the room with a chair. A mirror is on the desk; it’s slightly mundane and not quite to the Station’s style.
This room is yours for the moment. It doesn't mean someone won't want to trade - or take. Beyond this life support deck stretches the rest of Station 72. It is quiet and and twisting and perfectly inert.
At its most familiar, the Station is merely a still, empty ship with broad chambers and gently mottled light. At its worst, it’s an Escher painting of strange angles and bizarre platforms that seems grown as much as built. There are many ways to many places and while it seems all doors and passages open to you, there’s an unshakeable feeling that the space doesn’t quite match up - that there’s even more to the Station which you can’t yet see. Don’t get lost!
For now, you reach the floor of the nesting deck. When you do, something blooms in your mind. A voice, disturbingly lacking any identifying traits but warm and comfortable like sweetened milk, says:
If you follow the thread of that voice, you’ll eventually find your way either to Cathaway on the bridge or The Prince in the training wing.
((OOC Notes: Welcome to Station 72! Feel free to check out the SETTINGS page for more information about the Station. If you have any questions about the setting itself, feel free to ask them there; otherwise, please direct all questions to either the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages.
Happy hatchday, everyone! :) ))
no subject
[The flickers of Ren he sees are interesting - he had a little run-in with the man a while ago - but he puts his curiosity aside for now. He can always ask more of him whenever he wants. They have a bond, after all.]
[He turns away from Hux, taking a few steps away, but then looks over his shoulder, his mouth turned into a frown.]
Let me think...you grew up with people telling you that order is the way to go, right?
no subject
[ Even the Empire at its fullest, things slipped through the cracks. It's something he's just accepted, even if it rubs. Control over everything seems moot, in any case. Variety brings with it challenges and Hux is one who bores easily. ]
My father told me no such thing. [ The undercurrents were always there. With the way that Brendol dealt with everything in a strictness. In a control over oneself, because expression was weakness. It was the broken link in a strong chain and it was what brought the Empire to its knees. Hux remembers these things, thinks and lives and breathes the beliefs. Survival of the fittest and strongest– he was not going to be cut down for giving into the idiotic displays. ] People gravitate towards chaos and it brought them nothing in my world.
[ And the New Republic had done nothing to soothe the wounds. ]
no subject
[He says, with a snort, because it reminds him of his stupid society, living day by day by thousands of rules that they thought could eliminate every possible conceivable issue wrong with, well, everything.]
[He lets the mental link of Hux wash over him for a moment. The notion of a "father" is still a somewhat foreign one to Nathaniel. He lived recently with a family that he, technically, found himself in, but he never had a parental figure. Karnonian society never had a concept of a "family". It wasn't individuals who guided your beliefs and actions, it was an entire council and an endless amount of rules. To have that all condensed into one person when it came to others was strange, but interesting.]
Oh? [He says, and it would be obvious to Hux that that single syllable says, ever so succinctly, "I don't believe you".] And what do you mean by "nothing"? Maybe they gained the world, and you never saw it.
no subject
Except Hux is on the other side of that. He is somewhat in the council's shoes, in charge of overseeing trooper progress. If it weren't tantamount to disgusting weakness, he'd even say he loved them all– every single officer, every trooper. Everyone on his ship. He pours hours and hours, days, weeks, years into them. Has done so, since he's climbed the ranks. They'll uphold the First Order even if he can't any longer. A regime that lasts well past its leadership. Lasting. ]
Slavery, hunger, illness, death. [ He says these things flatly– Nathan doesn't know or understand. ] When the Empire was destroyed for the sake of freedom and so-called democracy, those people were overlooked. Watching them crumble because their order was yanked from them was not satisfying.
no subject
[It makes Nathaniel hate their mental link even more - having a conversation is one thing, but to have someone react to one's thoughts with ones of their own makes him feel small, like a creature in a cage surrounded by peering eyes. He recoils from the thoughts, though he knows it's impossible to escape the mental link. It's here to stay.]
[His voice is a bit strained when he speaks.]
Let me guess. You saw that and went "oh, our system will totally work and save everybody", right? Well, it probably didn't. It was probably the same, or even worse. [He scoffs.] What you had was an illusion. It's better to believe in a lie than to acknowledge you're making things worse. Trust me. I know.
no subject
It's invasive, worse than having his mind examined by the Force; this is a constant. ]
I lived through parts of it, so yes, I believe it's for the best. [ Those in the Outer Rim didn't have the mercy from the New Republic. His father's life collapsed with the Empire– growing up in the aftermath had not been easy. ]
Don't assume you know everything about my system just because you ran from yours.
no subject
I wasn't a coward. [He says, lip curling up in a sneer.] Trust me, I knew far too much about my own system. You think you know rules and order, huh?
[He lets out a laugh. It's not a happy one.]
Even if your system is different, from what I can see, it's just about as backwards and stupid as the system I left. It's too bad your head is too far buried in the ground to see any better.
no subject
Nowhere, really.
Except, something shifts when Nathaniel counters. When he makes mention of being a coward. Everything else seems to fall by the wayside and whatever anger he had just dissipates. ]
I didn't say you were a coward. [ Because even though he'd run from his system, he doesn't view it as cowardly. FN-2187 left, ran as fast as his legs could take him; he's not cowardly, he's an idiot. Brave, perhaps, but stupid. The First Order would catch up to him eventually (dissenters did not last long).
However, he doesn't know enough about Nathaniel's system to make that specific of a judgment on his character.
(He thinks about how agreeing to come here can be seen as turning tail and he buries the thought, doesn't want to imagine that he's left everyone on the Finalizer to an ill fate). ]
no subject
[He says, with a hard edge to his tone, but his posture relaxes - he sees of the images of that lone soldier in Hux's mind, running away, and he feels a sort of kinship with him. Hux might think he's an idiot, whoever he is, but that's fine. Better to be an idiot than to be somebody running because he's scared.]
[He picks under his nail with his thumb absentmindedly, interested in that last thought, the one Hux tried to bury so quickly. They're broodmates. Hiding things won't be so easy.]
...What happened, before you came here?
no subject
However, that admission seems to release the tension between them. The argument is far from over (he doubts they'll ever see eye to eye), but it's set aside for now. So much the better. He already has a headache and it's only being exacerbated by this conversation.
(And by their mental ties). ]
The planet I was on was imploding.
[ Short and sweet. Though it's hard to stop the mental impressions of Starkiller base, of the hallways and personnel he'd passed on his way to gather Ren. ]
no subject
[He says, momentarily, before he almost physically recoils from the imagery - people panicking, running, hallways collapsing onto each other, the quick glances out windows onto a barren, cold world where trees were slipping into the ground...]
[For a moment, Nathaniel doesn't know what to say. He's never been privy to such destruction on a grand scale, and he wonders what happened to all of the people Hux had left behind.]
[(They're all dead, no doubt.)]
...What happened? [His voice is low, a little restrained.] Someone tried to blow you guys up?
no subject
Though, that doesn't stop the secondary recoil as his mind connects the images, feels them sent back through the filter of his broodmate's mind. He knows it isn't real, the ground is shaking apart under his feet, but the anxiety climbs up his throat all the same. Jaw clenched, he forces the wave of panic back down, cutting off the flow of mental pictures.
Nathan's probability nearly sets him off again; just the consideration that all of those dedicated men and women are gone makes him sick with an odd sense of grief. ]
It– [ Where does he start? Does he even want to get into this? ] An essential reactor core on base was compromised. Is this really important to know?
[ Maybe that makes him sound desperate to change the subject, but it suits him for now. ]
What of your circumstances, before?
no subject
[He lets out a short sigh, digging his hands into his coat pockets and glancing away from Hux's face.]
Me? Nothing as drastic as the world ending, I assure you. [A pause.] I was just burning alive.
[He says, casually, as if the whole affair was as regular an event as going to the supermarket. It wasn't. Of course he hated it. He was afraid, angry, annoyed that somehow his other nature had led to his own downfall. He had scared some kids off, and they repaid with attempted murder, let him into a trap, set the place on fire and hoped that the monster they had seen would be good as dead.]
[And he was almost as good as dead. Everything had been painful, every part of him had been melting, and even now he doesn't think he'll see fire the same way again.]
[He tries to keep that out of the mental bond, of course, but the more he thinks about it, the harder it is not to let some things leak.]
no subject
What he expects, even with the other man's face turned away, is not what he gets. Hux had nothing to go off of, besides the fact that Nathaniel upholds something akin to the republic's ideals. So, the admission comes as a shock.
It's also a classic maneuver– deflect the seriousness with humor and hope no one notices how deep it cuts.
He'd pulled his defenses up over his own memories, but that does nothing to block out the wash coming from Nathan. Doesn't stop the suffocating fear, anger, smoke. Nor the ghosting of fire burning along his nerves. Hux shuts his eyes and turns his head, swallowing to try and bring himself back to reality. ]
You didn't have to answer.
[ I'm sorry you have to remember that sits unspoken, the impression comes across without having to say anything. ]
no subject
[That's just how it is. It's annoying, but at this point, Nathan would just like to have some things out there before someone can dig them out for themselves. He'll be in control of what others will find out. He's not going to let his brain do it for him, thank you very much.]
[His smile creases upward at the feeling he gets from the other man, which, honestly, surprises him. For a moment, it makes him want to forget the argument they've had before, when they had started off so badly on the wrong foot.]
Oh? [He says, smile opening up into a grin.] Good to know there's a human being under all that order.
[A pause.] Anyways...thanks. There's nothing to get upset about, though. It's done. I'm here, I'm alive, and I have bigger fish to fry. No worries.
no subject
[ Whatever they may try to hide will end up in the open eventually, even if it's just to their broodmates. It's something that digs at him, since he's so used to being closed off, to keeping things to himself. One didn't get to his rank by being loose-lipped.
Though, whatever sliver of sympathy he'd felt for Nathan disappears as the other smiles. He goes cold again, expression devoid of anything aside from mild distaste. ]
Don't be an idiot– a desire for order doesn't correlate to a lack of humanity.
[ In a way, it serves it. People would last longer if things weren't always so out of hand. ]
I'm not going to worry about it. [ Yikes, so harsh. He's turning to walk away, but that doesn't stop him from adding a specific point. Just a fact, really. ]
Fire doesn't burn in space.
[ And it may not here. Or the planets they'll end up on. After all, it requires oxygen– while they're breathing and living, it's hard to gauge if they've been tampered with enough to exist without the normal composition of air. ]
no subject
[He resists the urge to throw in a few mocking beeps and boops. Instead, that stupid grin just sits on his face - now he's just amused he got to see something that didn't fit in with the whole Hux presentation. It's like seeing a glimpse of a unicorn.]
[He's more than happy to let Hux walk away, though at that little statement, he can't help having the last word:]
Thanks for the fact. I'm sure you forgot to mention that humans have two eyes, too, I might not have noticed that either.