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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. ]
no subject
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?
no subject
[ That is to say: of course he washed his hands. ]
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
[ "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. ]
no subject
[ 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?
no subject
[ 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.
no subject
[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?
no subject
[ 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]
no subject
[A flicker of amusement, at the concept of it being anything like "badass" though.]
Sam helps. So did the others... [The faces flick through his mind, Clint, Bellamy, even the Darkling. They'd helped just by being there.] Pidge, too. But you probably knew that already.
[He takes the bandages, wordlessly, starting to apply them with careful fingers.]
For what it's worth, I'm glad you can. Did it make what you can do here easier on you?
no subject
[ he's too independent, too full of brittle pride to consider leaning on another for any sort of support. in his own wake, he seeks out others. tries his best. he wishes he could be more like some of his classmates, as open and bright as they are. maybe then, things wouldn't be so difficult. maybe he wouldn't be so difficult.
even as shiro carefully begins to stick bandages to him, bakugo stiffens and hunches. it's weird. being helped by someone who's not a school nurse. or his parents. ]
What are you talking about -- what I can do here? All I've got is my Quirk and I've had that since I was in kindergarten.
no subject
[He's not sure how to describe it without demonstrating. And without his broodmates here, it's almost impossible. There's Sam, or Pidge, but he doesn't want to alarm them. Or drag them away from something else just to prove a point.]
[His hands pause, as Bakugou stiffens. Waiting to see if he'll relax, or if Shiro should stop here. He opts to keep going. Just as carefully.]
You didn't wake up here with anything else?
no subject
[ he really doesn't understand. he's told shiro his opinions on his broodmates -- they're liars and losers, all of them. joshua won some points, at least. the only ones he'd really thought MATTERED in the whole of the nest were fewer and further between. and one of them, the one he genuinely enjoyed, was gone. probably for good.
there's no chance he's relaxing, but he doesn't get any rougher, any more likely to snap. ]
Like what? A third eye? Nope.
[ as he sits, he slips his hands into his pockets and -- ]
What about weird pockets?
no subject
[Which is fine. If Bakugou is that secure in himself, good. Shiro's just trying to hold onto scraps -- like trying to put together a mirror someone keeps breaking over and over again. First back in his world, now here. Every time someone leaves, every time he lets that anger take over.]
[It's good that's not a common scenario.]
Pretty sure we'd have all noticed more eyes, man. [He pauses, making sure the injury he's working on is covered.] What do you mean, weird pockets?