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[open] REUNITED AND IT FEELS SO GOOD
CHARACTERS: EVERYONE
WHERE: Station 72
WHEN: DAY :001
SUMMARY: The Hyrypia away team returns to Station 72.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. Need a warning added? PM this account please!
((OOC Notes: This is the catch-all log for the return to Station 72. If you have any questions, please hit up the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages!))
WHERE: Station 72
WHEN: DAY :001
SUMMARY: The Hyrypia away team returns to Station 72.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. Need a warning added? PM this account please!
STATION 72
DAY :001HOMECOMING
THE STEALTH SHIPS JUMPS AWAY and leaves the brassy marble of Hyrypia, a dismantled war, and a tentatively reunited people behind it. The jump from the universe is nauseating - even with the symbiote's anchoring quality, bodies displace poorly -, but surely it's no competition over the shared relief to be done with that place. There could be happiness. There should be. But surely the quiet prone figures in the back of the ship are a morbid reminder of everything Hyrypia has cost.
This work isn't easy.
Luckily the burden won't be shouldered alone. The moment the stealth ships snaps into the space between spaces, an overwhelming sense of connectivity floods the symbiote mental link. Regardless of how many of your broodmates might remain, it's undeniable that the presence of other Hosts is somehow a relief. Involuntarily or otherwise, taut shoulders relax and anxious nerves smooth. It's fine. You made it. Welcome home.
The sense of comfort only solidifies as the ship penetrates the irregular hull of Station 72, as its engines power down and the landing platform whirs upward to corkscrew the ship back into its rightly place on the hangar deck. 'Tik, tik, tik' whirr the engines as they fade. With the flip of a switch, the boarding ramp's hydraulics kick on and the rear of the ship opens itself -- to waiting faces, likely.
"Thank you for joining us today on the HMS Squid," says Rhan, all smiles and cheer as she unbuckles her safety harness. "Don't forget to take your belongings from where you've stowed them and return your seats to their upright positions, et cetera et cetera."
She gives the assembled away team a last, well practiced wink. "Now unless you really haven't anything better to do, feel free to get the hell off my boat darlings."
((OOC Notes: This is the catch-all log for the return to Station 72. If you have any questions, please hit up the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages!))
BAKUGO'S BACK | OTA.
[ He comes back quiet, pushing past the handful of the Hyrypian team left after -- well, after everything. The first thing he does, walking away from Rhan's craft, is to take off his robes and mass them into a ball. Only to ignite them with a fierce blast from the palms of his hands, letting the smolder pointedly at his feet. Even then, he's markedly silent, curling his fingers around a series of white-hot explosions. It's been too long since he'd been able to use his Quirk, and then it'd all come down to bare-knuckle brawling in the end. A fight that cost people lives, and made him break his stupid vow to the rest of the Station's inhabitants.
1 -- He hides his face for a while, the bruises on his jaw and knuckles, patching himself up in his quarters. Overhead vocally complaining about the lack of certain fixtures -- where the fuck did they put the doors? and generally patching himself up, painstakingly slow and careful. It stings, it aches. His mind continues to smolder, like an animal trying to ignore its pains for the moment. Eventually, he slams his hands down on the floor where he sits, and casts a furious eye at the doorway: ] If you're gonna hesitate, go the hell away. Otherwise get in here and put this on my back, I can't reach.
2 -- [ Even sore and wounded as he is, his first order of business is one of defiance. It's putting on the gear he'd arrived with ( his only ties to what he is, now -- ) and absolutely letting loose in one of the Station's rooms. He's not at all mindful of the interior of the room itself, despite knowing Cathaway's warnings, but the floors and walls seem to have been formed with intelligent enough design that explosions glance off them, leaving dark smears of ash and soot as he otherwise massacres a training dummy. Or two.
Maybe three.
Okay, four. He's got a lot of rage to work out. So much so, that it seems to escalate, building over time now that he has no need to hide away and play fancy diplomat, until whatever's been eating at him nearly spills over -- and one of his blasts goes wild, narrowly missing whatever poor host so much as glanced in the doorway. And Bakugo pauses, pushing up the dark line of his mask -- ] Watch where you're shoving your nose in! What the hell do you want now?
[ WHAT A RUDE CHILD ]
3 -- @AVIOR [ It's only after he, quite literally, blows off some steam, that he even bothers reaching out to the rest of his brood. Those who he's either managed to avoid, cold-shoulder or otherwise haven't been able to reach out to him, what with all the reunions happening. ]
Did you have fun playing house while I was gone?
4 -- [ WILDCARD OPTION. COME AT ME, let's plot. Alternatively, leave a comment and I'll make a starter. If anybody on the Hyrypia mission wants to roll back the clock and thread anything out for that final leg, that's rad too. ]
1 hell yeeeeaaaah
But eventually, he does decide to check in - physically, because he's still less fond of the idea of just shooting a thought off instead of actually taking the effort to go.
The tongue-lashing when he leans against the doorway is hardly a surprise, and doesn't get more than a raised eyebrow. ]
Yeah, I'm glad to be back too.
[ But he does come in, and hold out a hand for whatever Bakugo's been failing to put on. Hand it over and let him work, hothead. ]
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Who said I was glad to be here! The only thing that's good about this place is I don't have to wear that stupid disguise. I missed being able to cut loose.
[ Which he does later on, but for now, he thrusts the flat bandages and tape he's been trying to apply to the lower angle of his shoulderblade, where the worst of the abrasions sit. And then he jerks it back, accusingly. ]
You washed your hands, right?
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[ That is to say: of course he washed his hands. ]
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[ wow, listen you little shit ]
I doubt some of these people wash their hands. We share brains, why not germs.
[ all the same, he slams his hand down into the space alongside his left, shoulders squared and jaw clenched against the thought of allowing anyone into his personal space, especially in a way that means he can't see them when they're speaking. it makes things difficult, for him. and he doesn't want to lapse into thought-conversations, because he's tired of not using his voice. ]
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[ You will never catch him sharing germs, swapping spit, or getting hot and heavy with anyone else in this nest. Homey don't play that.
There's only a moment's pause for him to size up the injuries before he gets to work. He's got a firm enough touch to do what needs to be done, but only just; no more pressure than necessary, no needless aggravation of the wounds. Quick, precise, and unobtrusive, as most things tend to be with him. ]
2
She's startled for a moment but then she bites it down, puts away the brief burst of fear - and now is probably the first time that Bakugo has had a clear look at what she looks like without the veils and the robes. A gangly teenager, still growing a little, still in the phase between child and adult. A girl. Athletic.
And very clearly missing her left eye, which is covered with a cloth patch. She narrows her good eye at him, bright blue and scathing. ]
I'm just checking. I'm allowed to do that, right? I live here, too.
[ It's not like she cares or anything.
But she's hurting and she can't hide that. It pulses over the link, heavy and aching, like an ugly bruise that won't leave - not quite the sharp pain that it was in the immediate aftermath. ]
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He pulls his mask down, around his throat, and puts his hands to his hips. Wearing gauntlets like he does, there's no way he can cross them haughtily. ]
I mean, if you wanna' try and figure out how you're going to take me in a fight, just don't... sneak around about it.
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Why do boys always think it's about fighting?
[ Then again, she'd thought sort of along the same lines not so long ago. Although in that case it'd been less head-to-head combat and more competition to be the best on the team. ]
Is that all you can do?
[ That hurt is still there, gnawing at her heart. ]
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[ "this bullshit" likely being the way the two of them have been crashing into one another's old wounds with all the ferocity and grace of a bulldozer on lsd. rude, brittle, aching somewhere in their core about all they've lost and what that means for their psyche. ]
And you didn't seem the type to want to sit down and fucking "talk about your feelings". Like I can't feel them or something. Just for the record? Talking's dumb. I don't actually want to talk. It's like broods don't even matter, what's the point -- everyone's just bleeding their business all over everyone.
[ he doesn't just mean asuka; there's someone else he focuses on. they also have one eye and a bad attitude. ]
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[ She waves her hands in a few circles, trying to find the words, hating that she has to admit something that she's about to admit. Ugh. Stupid, stupid, stupid. ]
-and you'd probably kick my ass in a fight, anyway. You've got like - explodey hands or whatever.
[ She frowns. She's been training, but she definitely doesn't have the weight to go toe to toe with him. Even if she wanted to. She's also trying not to rely purely on bullying and yelling to get through life, as hard as that sounds. ]
I thought we were actually getting somewhere for a minute. Back on the planet.
1 son
[It's quiet. Not nearly as abrasive as the question. True to his word, he's holding a towel -- one about the size of a beach towel. It's not really a door, but he'd tacked one up over the alcove he'd been sleeping in, before the last mission. He figured it wouldn't hurt to offer.]
[The sight of a beat up, bruised up kid ... it turns something over in his chest. It isn't that he doubts Bakugo's capability. Not after the fight. But something in him is always going to ache when people are hurt.]
[He smothers it down, now, though. Buries it under a pile of fractured mental stars.]
Did you still want help?
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[ Towel. Whatever. Even as he points out this very-obvious fact, it lacks a certain degree of animosity. Bakugo's mind swells with a strange sort of patience for Shiro, like the roles are all reversed and by permitting Shiro to help him out like this, he's actually doing Shiro the favor. And he draws circles and patterns on the floor with his fingers, jostling with something internally that oozes across the floor -- that struggle between his independence and the connections he has with everyone. Surely, he can deign to let Shiro in. ]
You look like you caught hell worse than me, maybe I should be the one putting band-aids on you.
[ Which is his way of letting Shiro in. ]
-- there's this kid I know. He's kind of like you, in a way. His Quirk gets stronger when it's darker, and it sometimes overtakes him. I'm guessing what happens to you isn't a Quirk, but it sure as hell'd be a cool one if you could direct it better.
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[In return, he just sounds tired. Again. As usual. Nothing new there. He'll take what he can get from Bakugo -- if only because he reminds him so strongly of someone else, at times. The anger, the impulsive tendency. He's grateful for the permission. For the acceptance.]
[Honestly, being able to help someone does a lot to put his brain on the mend.]
I've had worse.
[Deadpan and honest, as he steps into the room, perching on the edge of a seat beside Bakugo -- offering to take the salve or cream or whatever it is he's putting on the bruises.]
Trying to control it is something I've been working on since I found out I had it. It's better than it was... but. [A shrug.] How does your friend handle it?
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[ to both points, actually. he doubts the station'll create doors, probably something about doors affording the psyche a physical manifestation of shutting oneself off from a thing that doesn't want to be shut off. as for shiro having worse, bakugo takes a moment to point at the scar across his nose. the one he'd called "cool", because it made shiro look like a real badass.
and that was before the lion. ]
I think he meditates. And he talks to some of our classmates about it. I guess it's easier to deal with if he's not alone with it, you know? It's such a strong Quirk, like mine. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't control mine.
[ it's a thought he's never considered, as he hands over the bandages he needs applied to the spots he can't reach]
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[ Joshua makes his return to the station as he does most things: so quietly he's easily missed, if one isn't actually looking for him. He slips off the stealth ship, his disguise already abandoned on the ride back, and moves a few meters out of the way, staying out of the way of the offloading and taking a moment to catch his breath and readjust to the feeling of all the (very large, very prominent) missing puzzle pieces in his mind snapping back into place.
There's no place like...home?
The place doesn't exactly feel like home, but there's no denying that the people do, no matter how much his logical mind still balks. ]
ii.
[ The ship is offloaded, he's taped up the bumps and scratches he picked up in that final brawl, and with the mission done, it's back to being completely unsure of what to do with himself. After years of having nothing to live for but the tasks that were given to him, and then years of being technically free, but still mostly aimless and not having an ambition beyond supporting Estelle, he's not sure what he's doing without her in the picture.
He wasn't much of a person, until he left Ouroboros. He's not sure if he's much of a person even with Ouroboros five years behind him, or if it's just that she made him feel like one. With neither her at his side nor an immediate goal to be accomplished, he's...
...
He finds his way to the recreation wing, intending to maybe find something in the library, which he hadn't had enough time to take much of a look at before the departure to Hyrypia. But, as tends to happen when he's lost in thought, out comes the harmonica instead.
He could probably use some new songs. ]
Dorito's BACK | ota
[His Ability had come on again. The anger coming out hard and hot to shove the feelings away and get those remaining through the fight. Regardless of what happened on his end. He'd lived. There are wounds to tend to, blood on his tattered robes and down the side of his face.]
[But he's alive. When others aren't.]
[Again.]
1) Arrival
[When the ship docks, lets them out, it takes the rest of his flagging energy to just collapse on a crate. Too worn down by thought and the sudden empty spaces in all their heads. Not to mention the cuts slashed across his torso, one arching down his cheek from the tip of his scar to his jawline.]
[He'll move. He'll move in a minute. For now... he just wants to close his eyes. There's exhaustion in everything of his -- from the ragged, broken shields to the way he sags in place. Five minutes.]
[Then he'll deal.]
2) 12 hours later...
[It's after crashing, hard. After waking disoriented and dazed and still thinking they're back on that planet. That when he wakes up he'll have to hear more bad news. But there's nothing save the Station. Okay -- okay, good to know.]
[After that, he can either be found in one of the life support areas, finishing patching up the injuries, his hair wet from the shower. There's purpling bruises all over previously scarred skin, but those he can't do much else about.]
[He knows he should be thinking about their next move, about what comes next... but he drifts into cryo anyway. Sitting cross-legged vigil in case anyone opens up their eyes.]
[When he ends up in the kitchen area, it's out of habit, more than anything. He's not really hungry. There's water and some fruit sitting untouched across from him. Eating is an effort. And he's just tired.]
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When does it all end? Do they just keep going?
She doesn't really know. ]
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[Quiet. Just reminding each other they're still here. If anything had happened to her down there...]
Never thought I'd miss fighting Galra.
[It's a weak attempt at breaking the heavy silence. At least, fighting back in their universe, they knew what they were up against. They weren't always stuck in the dark...]
[... they didn't feel losses as keenly as they do, here.]
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[ It's frustrating and hard and difficult, especially when people die. Especially when they lose people. It radiates off of her, but it's suffused by his presence. Turned into something lower level, bearable. A sense of belonging. ]
We made it back, though. Right?
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[Punching the darkness echoes a little. It's true. Right down to the darkness part. Everything about this enemy feels like it's shrouded, somehow. Nothing they do can get through that.]
[But even with that in mind, it's easy to sink into the comfort of her mind at his back. Literally and figuratively.]
Just like always, huh? That must mean you're stuck with me.
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2 | kitchen
When he realizes that the strength of the connection he feels with Shiro is strong enough that it means that he can't be planetside anymore - when he realizes that his connection with November and Lakshmi is gone, and what that means, but that's something entirely different - Sam emerges, wrapping his connection with Shiro tightly around himself and using it to find Shiro where he's hovering in the kitchen.
He doesn't say anything.
It's not like he needs to, though, when his mind fills Shiro's the moment he comes within range. He'd use crashes, but - it's nothing that sudden or violent, it's more like coming home. When he steps into the kitchen, he unerringly makes his way to Shiro - and slams him up against a wall, pinning his wrists to the metal above his head as he kisses him, mental link swirling around Shiro's with I missed you I missed you I missed you as he presses against him like he's trying to see if they can both occupy the same space at the same time.
As his symbiote ability activates, automatically, healing whatever injuries and fatigue Shiro might have as Sam presses him against the kitchen wall. ]
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[Except when someone else is there. Someone else is there. Someone else is there.]
[Nothing stops him from turning as he feels Sam step into the room. Turns to meet him, openly as he can, feeling an overwhelming crash of affection and relief from the moment he feels that mind near his again. Someone's still here. Someone is back and he's glad he doesn't need words to tell him how much that means to him right now.]
[The echo of I missed you bounces between them, and the only reason he resists the hold, just for a moment, is because he wants to wrap Sam up in his arms as well. To hold onto him too. To verify how real he is... that it's not like Lakshmi or Lavellan or Keya. It's not like the minds gone dark and cold and left him here the last man standing the only one who got away]
[He's kissing back before he thinks about it, completely and utterly desperate for it.]
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He doesn't know what it must have been like for Shiro back on the planet - and yet he does, because as soon as their minds twine around each other again, he can pick it up. He can feel the relief that Shiro feels at having someone else there, someone else real and alive and whole. And he can feel Shiro struggle against the hold, can feel why - and he wants it, too, wants to pull Shiro into his arms and let Shiro hold him tight in return, until they can't tell where one of them ends and the other begins, and yet -
And yet he wants this more. Wants to feel Shiro's desperation, the way he kisses back - wants to overwhelm Shiro to the point that he's not thinking about anything else than being back here, with him.
Let me - let me sweetheart, I got you. There's no words there, just a feeling, and Sam crosses Shiro's wrists together so he can hold them against the wall with one hand as he kisses him, letting his other hand push up Shiro's shirt and rest on his stomach.
I got you. ]
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[Which is ironic, considering his breath is currently coming in rasping, short inhales, while trying to kiss Sam as much and as deeply as he can. He's here. He's back. They made it out of there. He doesn't have to shoulder everything alone anymore. Doesn't have to remember the wrenching feeling of losing other minds while he's here.]
[While he's with Sam.]
[He wouldn't try to get his hands free otherwise, if he didn't want to hold onto him so badly right then, it almost chokes him. Almost makes his eyes sting and the sharp breaths choke in his throat.]
[All right, when that happens, his muscles go tense for totally different reasons, scars and muscle standing out sharply under Sam's hand. And he tries to hook a leg around one of Sam's. To pull him closer still.]
[Don't leave me again.]
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