station72 | [hatch log] the sea seemingly a constant to the naked eye is one long goodbye

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[hatch log] the sea seemingly a constant to the naked eye is one long goodbye

CHARACTERS: New Hosts & EVERYONE
WHERE: Station 72; Hyrypia - The Far Shore
WHEN: DAY :041 - DAY :042
SUMMARY: A hatch; an arrival; a homecoming. The Hosts part ways.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. Need a warning added? PM this account please!

STATION 72
DAY :041

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.

DECISIONS, DECISIONS
BARELY AFTER YOU STEP OUT OF YOUR POD someone pokes their head around the corner and says, “Oh good, you’re awake. D’you have any idea how boring it is to watch people sleeping in tubes? Mind-numbing.”

This...person looks more or less like a normal human, as far as you can tell, and they’re gesturing for you to follow. “I’m Ty, nice to meet you, I’ll be your conductor this--” they pause, squint, count on their fingers, then give up trying to figure out what time it actually is. “--Mevening? Aftermorn? Whatever. I wasn’t supposed to be on orientation duty more than once but here I am, fresh with instructions to answer questions better.”

Ty’s dark eyes appraise you as if judging your outfit, then xe raises xyr eyebrow. “First up, the bathroom’s over there. Second, don’t mind the noise in your head. You get used to it. Third, are you going on the field trip or not?”

THE STATION
WITH A LITTLE UNDER 24 HOURS before the ship makes its way to Hyrypia, now might be a good opportunity to familiarize yourself with Station 72-- either before you leave it or in preparation of finding yourself sharing it with a gaggle of strangers. Better claim your bed early.

The savviest eyes will note that a number of rooms in the Living Quarters show clear signs of having been inhabited at some point; however, there's a fine patina of stillness or stasis in those places. If this place was one where dust might gather, there might be a layer of it here. Exactly how long has it been since this last group of Hosts left for their Mission again?

Come the simulated morning, a strange slate colored craft resembling folded origami more than a ship waits in the Hangar. A small, bird-like woman attends to it and when the time is right she climbs into the cockpit, cheerfully inviting anyone who wants to go to the planet to ride along with her. Then it too leaves the Station and for a time the quiet left in its wake is very dense indeed.

HYRYPIA - THE FAR SHORE
DAY :042

A SHIP TO SHORE
THE SUN IS HIGH IN THE SKY before the first calls of the sailors can be heard heralding the shore in the distance. It isn’t long after that they get close enough that the passengers - the remaining members of the Envoy and their Hyrypian hosts (a thinning herd, it seems) - are encouraged to begin preparing themselves to disembark. It’s a messy process. Unlike the docks they boarded on, this place has no permanent mooring. Instead temporary docks are brought out from the ship itself, anchored in place by small vessels that swarm around it in the water as small fish around a shark. By the time the maneuver is complete and the passengers are packed, the afternoon is threatening to turn into evening. Still, there's enough light to see by as they are led down the ramps and the docks and out onto the loose, grey stones that make up the shore.

Where the Red Coast had been tall cliffs and sand, the Far Shore is formed of pebbles and small stones dotted with driftwood. It’s grey and bleak, a single path heading up the nearby low hills, covered in short greyish yellow scrub and lichen. This place is draped with an overcast sky, the clouds churning and wind gusting, the air cool and dry. In the distance a chain of mountains scrapes the sky, but there’s a quite a bit of distance between here and there. For now, the immediate task at hand is getting the caravan rolling along the rocky, pitted path through the lonely, hushed landscape. Wind hums through the hills, a mournful crying sound.

SHIFTING ODDS
WHEN CAMP IS FINALLY MADE each Envoy is encouraged to quickly pitch their tents and then summarily herded into them. The Morran apparently want to avoid any more murders in the dark. In what is almost certainly a rarity, this means the Hosts all find themselves sharing each other's company around a single brazier in their largest tents - raw meats, vegetables, a hearty broth and a large copper bowl have been provided by the Morran, but it's up to each envoy to prepare and cook their own meals tonight.

Maybe it's a dour evening - after all bonds will be broken once the ship arrives and some of your number make their way back to the Station; however, it certainly takes a turn for the positively grim when a large number of Hosts suddenly fall comatose at the exact moment Cathaway's ship pierces into the universe.

TWO ROADS DIVERGED
RENDEZVOUSING IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT has suddenly became more complicated. What was once an easy hike out of camp to meet with Cathaway's stealth ship now suddenly requires the movement of quite a few comatose Hosts (Rhan, for one, seems exceptionally distressed over the complication).

The comatose Hosts will have to be secreted away from camp to connect with the ship from the Station hidden in hills. Once there, it's time to make introductions, to say your goodbyes, and to wish others all the best. It may be some time before you see one another again.

((OOC Notes: This log covers the hatch on Day :041 and the arrival and/or retreat of Hosts on Day :042. As a reminder, please chime in on the OOC HEADCOUNT going on to indicate whether your character is staying on Hyrypia or on the Station. Please see THIS POST for breakdown on how recent drops are being handled.

You can find a more detailed overview of the host hatching process HERE and additional setting information about the Station HERE. Please be sure to review the MISSION: HYRYPIA ooc information if you're brand new to the game. If you have any questions, please hit up either the mission's question thread, the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages!))

NAVIGATION • GAME CALENDAR • MISSION: HYRYPIA • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

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It is the work of Shepard's life to create situations in which one might be required to learn the subtleties of technique involved in transporting humanoids to and fro. She's drug one-man stretchers through jungle undergrowth, done variations on a fireman's carry, and on one memorable occasion carried someone piggyback for seven hours while they played lookout.

Good times. Unlike these.

As the appointed time approaches, she busies herself laying out blankets, spare canvas, even sturdy sheets. One for each of the unconscious, limp-limbed bodies to be slid or rolled onto. Maybe you want to help with that?

Or maybe you're only called over when Cathaway actually lands, and Shepard starts really directing attention. Two or four people per blanket, she says, quite as if she had a right to order you around. You? There. And you? Over there.

"One, two, three, lift," And you're off, moving at as rapid a pace as is possible with a heavy, unhelpful burden slung between you on a makeshift hammock of a stretcher. But there's no time to slow down, there's a lot of people to move, and therefore a lot of ground to cover. Shepard shows no sign of weariness, "Thanks for the help. Going or staying?"

Asuka's not all that happy. But when is she ever really happy these days? It's still not fun to stare at the limp bodies and remember that up until a day or two ago, these were people she'd been talking to. People she'd relied on. Clarke. Kaji.

Kaji hadn't wanted to go back. He'd wanted to die here.

She still remembers their last conversation. She remembers the feeling of nausea. It's stupid and it stings. Why would he want to die?

She's sitting there. Staring.

"I hate this."

It's muttered, but it's still easy to hear.

Edited 2018-02-27 17:00 (UTC)

"Well, if you liked it, I'd be a little concerned," Shepard replied, folding a blanket into sharp, businesslike folds, "You wanna ask me?"

She can't claim she isn't a mindreader, after all-- but it's not like Shepard doesn't sympathize. She's walked that edge before; if anything, she's mad Kaji isn't getting his wish. She knows, if she went down like this, it wouldn't matter what she wanted either, but...

Kaji is none of her business. If Misato wants to run everyone's life as it it were her own, that's her prerogative. When she finally crosses the last line the group is willing to bear, Shepard won't be likely to miss it.

"I might have a little experience on the subject."

"This whole - people just vanishing into these stupid comas," Asuka waves a hand in illustration, "It's stupid. I hate it. It's not even something people control. And it's not like they're ending up dead or getting... getting killed in action or anything, like Lavellan. They're just... gone. For no reason."

Which is life in a nutshell. But Asuka doesn't have to like it.

"Aren't you kinda forgetting where you are?" She gestures at the alien world around them, superficially similar in some ways to a night on Earth. But it wasn't, "Or what we did to get here?"

They hadn't been awake for all that long, really. Weeks. Maybe months, some people. Not so significant, when placed against the unknown time they'd all been under.

"We've all gone through what I'd consider traumatic brain surgery. So I wouldn't say it's for no reason. Who knows what's going on in there? It's not exactly normal," Which is to say, she's a little freaked out about it too.

Shepard bends for the next blanket with a shrug.

"You know what I think? I think the real problem isn't that they're gone, it's that they might come back. Hope. That's what'll get you."

"Trauma is one way to put it, yeah," Asuka grumbles. She's had a lot of trauma in her relatively short life, but she tries not to let it define her. She tries not to let it eat away at her. For some reason, it's been better since she got here. Maybe it's been the people - Lakshmi, Shepard, Lavellan, Seviila, a handful of others. They've all pushed her to be better. To be something more than she is. To be something she knows she can be.

Having them believing in her has helped. Even if she's resented it at the same time. Paradoxes of being a teenager. Especially one with her baggage.

"...I guess. Hope is..." She pauses and picks up a blanket to start folding, brow furrowed.

"...it's not stupid. But it lets you down."

Cynical. Maybe brutally so.

Shepard considered that perspective for a minute.

"Well, you're not wrong," Then she threw the next blanket at Asuka's head with unerring accuracy, "Here, make yourself useful."

And she kicked the rest in her general direction so that the untidy pile sprawled and became even less tidy.

"I'm not a big fan of hoping for a better whatever, myself. I'm more of a get out there and make it happen kind of person."

"Hey-!" Asuka's voice rises in an undignified squawk as she suddenly has to deal with a mess of blankets. She catches the one thrown at her, but the rest get a surly look. Thanks, Shepard. You really know how to help. With a shake of her head she starts working on folding. This is going to take a little while to get back into any sort of order, Shepard.

"I'd like to do that. But half the time I feel like I'm just running in place. Like I haven't managed to change anything," she admits. It leaves a sour taste in her mouth, especially remembering how she tried and tried and tried - and look where it got her.

"But I can't stand still, right?"

"Eh. You might just be feeling your age; fourteen is such a shitty age to be. Give it a couple more years, I'll teach you how to drive a tank, it'll be great," The irony isn't lost on her, that Asuka is old enough to pilot a giant robot, but not old enough for a much less destructive vehicle, like a skycar, "You're right to keep pushing, though. Don't get discouraged-- actually."

She pointed then, to emphasize the point, and grinned full of teeth.

"Fuck hope. Determination, that's your key skill here."

"Fourteen is bullshit," Asuka agrees with a little groan that's only a touch over-dramatic, "Everyone still treats me like I'm some stupid kid, but I've already done so much. I'm basically an adult, right?"

Except... not. She's still sort of chasing that need to be thought of as older and wiser and ultimately more adult than she really is right now. She wants to skip adolescence entirely and go straight from being a child to being able to live and work on her own. It's lessened a little, but that drive is still there. Albeit (hopefully) healthier. Her gaze flickers to Shepard and she almost laughs.

Almost.

"I'd rather be good at everything, but I guess determination works."

"Hell no, you're a fetus," Shepard is quick to shut that line of thought down, with a laugh, "You're not going to be done being born until you're like twenty, believe me. Just because you're old enough to have been through the shit, it doesn't follow that you're all grown up."

And here is where their minds diverge. For Shepard, self-sufficiency isn't the hallmark of adulthood. Anyone can live and work on their own, if they're willing to suffer for it-- until she was nearly Asuka's age, Shepard's own life was a neverending struggle to survive under exactly those conditions. All it takes to make adult decisions on your own behalf, is the balls to do whatever you want, and the brains to get around anyone who might actually be able to stop you. But then you have to live with the consequences.

And that's where most runaways stop running, one way or another.

"Nobody's good at everything," She tells Asuka, "Not even me."

Edited 2018-02-28 01:42 (UTC)

"I'm not-"

Asuka starts to object and then claps her mouth shut with a grumpy little sigh. She doesn't feel like a "fetus", whatever that means. She feels grown-up (kind of) and ready to take on the world (not really). She can deal with consequences. She just wants people to acknowledge that she's ready to take them on; not treat her like she's an afterthought.

Or maybe she really is just running in circles. Who knows? She makes a low noise of discontent.

"I'm going to be. Just watch me."

She's determined. Give her that (wait, Shepard already did).

It may be a bit surprising, given the load they're carrying, that Caroline easily takes more than her logical share of the weight and seems to be far from struggling to keep up. Superhuman strength makes things like this a little easier, though this isn't exactly what she likes to use it for.

All of this is pretty uncomfortable and depressing for her, honestly. There's an undercurrent of fear, too, and it's obvious from the way she can't really filter anything that she's still very new.

"Don't worry about it." Better her than someone who can throw their back out. "Going, I think, hopefully. If I can talk my best friend into coming with me." Her lips twist slightly as she thinks about how that conversation might go. "How about you?"

"I'm just saying," Shepard says, with the air about her of someone who has seen everything and is tired of its shit, "Nobody's holding a gun to your head if you can't handle a body. So it's appreciated."

Shepard graciously does not comment on the fear and depression. Life's shit and then you die. Or not. She's been considered to be a little undead herself, from time to time.

"I'm headed up. My training is in black ops, but not the kind of black ops where you sneak in and pretend to be what you're not. I'm into more of a make the problem disappear kind of thing, so I'm not really useful here," She shrugs, as best as one can with this much weight hanging from your arms, because what can you do? Some people are nice and normal and live nice, sane lives. Others are jack-booted space divas by nature. Either way, it's a living, "Who's the friend?"

Caroline has already seen more bodies than she'd ever care to admit to. At least these ones are still alive, albeit in comas. That makes the work less difficult, somehow, like maybe it isn't too late for them, that they'll come back from this.

"You're welcome."

That seems better than to just refuse the thanks, again. After all, no one made her do this. No one even asked her specifically, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

Caroline certainly isn't going to judge her on that. She's not the least flashy person in the world, either. "Oh, Elena Gilbert. She's been here a lot longer than me."

"You're from the same world, right?" Shepard said, after a moment's thought, probing at the edges of Caroline's mind like touching a sore tooth; careful, curious but gentle, "Damon's in my brood."

That, she felt, ought to explain everything that needed explaining about her relationship to Elena Gilbert. Still, it doesn't leave much to talk about. Shepard has time enough to wish they really were corpses, because you have to treat the merely comatose with care and a gentle hand. Dead bodies, you can sling around, or bump by mistake, and it doesn't matter whether or not they're lying on their arm funny, or turned face-down.

"How'd you two meet?"

Anything, to fill the silence.

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