[training log] once you find your center

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: All
WHERE: Station 72
WHEN: Day :153-155
SUMMARY: Get ready to sweat.
WARNINGS: None; will edit if necessary.

EARLY ON DAY 153 after you have had some time to rest, quiet your minds, get used to the feeling of other people in your head and start to know them better than you anticipated or possibly wished to, there is a call.

Unlike before, when you first awoke, it is not warm and sweet and coaxing. It is instead almost devoid of emotion. Nearly as impersonal as a phone call or a person speaking to you across the length of a desk. For those of you who have met him, it is instantly recognizable as Prince, the words fit themselves into whatever language is most comfortable to you, but his tone is the same, the deep, level sound of his voice almost the same as if it were in your ear.

What he says is this:

'New hosts are expected in the Training Wing within --' and here the voice doesn’t falter, but it seems less like words, more like a concept, tapping into the part of your mind with a far clearer understanding of time than you once had. It’s about an earth hour, either way, 'to begin training for your first assignment. Attendance is recommended.'

And with that his voice is gone, leaving behind only the clear impression of a place, how to get there, and your own thoughts. Well, your own and everybody else’s.




IF YOU CHOSE to heed his advice and go to the Training Wing, you will find upon your arrival Prince: taller than average, broad, with warm brown skin and a serious expression across his face. The cape he usually wears is elsewhere, for the moment, and beside him is a stack of dark grey jumpsuits that look very much like the ones both he and Cathaway wear.

If you’ve been to the Training Wing before it seems slightly changed, although it is difficult to say how. Certainly it was this large before, and certainly there were as many chambers. When you approach Prince won’t have much to say at first, but he will hand you your uniform and point you towards the single locker room, and if you ask for clarification he will only say that he will tell you more when you are dressed and the rest have gathered.

You can take this time to talk to your fellow hosts and get used to the slightly honeycomb textured space spandex that you will find fits you to a tee.

When the allotted time has passed, Prince will request you all gather in a single area, and will explain the situation. Your first assignment will be in three day’s time. It isn’t expected to be dangerous, however most of you are completely unprepared. You don’t know your own strength, you don’t know your own skill, and you haven’t had much time to learn.

What follows is a rudimentary explanation of Iota and Rho symbiotic types ((as outlined in the setting)) as well as an explanation of specialized skills. He doesn’t tell you what yours is, and most of his words are a warning- yes, you are stronger than you were before, but you’re not as strong as you could be. Yes, you are faster, but that doesn’t mean anything if you don’t know how to use it. Yes, you can see and hear better than you could before but it doesn’t mean anything if you don’t know how to look and you don’t know what you’re listening for. He suggests that you set yourself to learning, although he only teaches the willing.


And then the Training Wing is yours.

---

((OOC Notes: Welcome to the training log!

The Training Wing is large- bigger than the biggest gym, and it contains a number of specialized spaces for Host’s use. What follows is an (incomplete) list of amenities. Have an idea for another space? Drop us a line in the questions section of the OOC info post! The training wing itself is a central hub-type area with a number of hallways that branch out in a vaguely spiraling fashion spanning multiple levels. Below are a list of locations key to this log:

• Lockers - The aforementioned locker space. Features (open) cubbies, shower spaces, a bathroom, towels, and sets of shoes for those of you without proper footwear.

• Track - Centrally located there is a large track, multiple lanes wide, the ground coated in some sort of slightly rubbery, gripping substance. It’s big, it’s open, it’s white, and if you just want to go fast here’s your chance.

• Gym - Located not far from the lockers is an almost traditional gym space, with a number of pieces of exercise equipment, some of which is familiar and some of which is not. There are instructions that will read in a pleasant voice if you seem lost. You will find both strength and cardio equipment arranged in a somewhat sensible manner.

• Training Hall - A large open space with a number of pads on the floors and walls and a wide variety of dummies and protective gear. You’ll also find melee practice weapons ranging from swords and pikes to slightly more exotic weaponry here as well as room for a little good ol’ fashioned wrasslin’.

• Range - Lying closest to the Flight Hangar, this room features a number of targets and projectile training weapons. Here you will find everything from bows and arrows to laser guns. Nothing is capable of doing real damage, but it feels and reacts in a way that’s very real. Handy readouts will tell you exactly how accurate (or inaccurate) you are.

• Pool - It’s a pool, there are lanes, so swim free. Please don’t drown. There is no sauna.

If you have any questions drop us a line at the OOC post

Let's get physical!))

NAVIGATION • SETTING • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

[decommission]

[ Artificially enhanced reflexes don't do him much good here, eyes wide from his hit connecting - he's too shocked to do much but jump a bit when the sweep comes. Brings him down to one knee, a hand still on the grip of the practice blade while the other braces against the floor.

He glances up, some of the surprise in his expression coming off of him in a muted wave, until it's shut like a slammed door. He rises to his feet. ]

I did - why didn't you block it? [ His eyes narrow, accusation covering the hint of betrayal in his tone. He doesn't appreciate head games. ]

[mercenares]

I didn't have to. [He shrugs, meeting that accusation with a level, neutral look.] You weren't trying, it's not like it was gonna hurt...

[The look on his face is promising, Ares thinks-- this might take less time than he thought it would. (He wasn't exactly lying when he said he wouldn't go easy on Steve, his own methods aren't identical to his master's, but this isn't quite as harsh as the way he was taught. Good to know it still works.)]

If you don't mean it, I'm not gonna take it seriously either.

[narcissithstic]

[This time the impact rattles him, catches the reopened span at his side and leaves him reeling in his own skin-- the edges of the room slide, unanchored, at the corner of his vision. When he breathes again, sharp and hot through grit teeth, it's tinged red with the promise of his own exhaustion; newfound ability too taxing, too new for him to manage without slipping. Easy to realize, then, that he's at a disadvantage. That Prince would no doubt brush him away in an instant like this.

And beyond that, he feels it. The electric thrum of Cathaway's stare, watching, waiting--

With effort, he fights himself to straighten the line of his own posture. Stands tall, pinning the torn fabric at his shoulder with the splayed fingers of his left hand - attempting to mask where Rey's strike had fallen only days prior. Swallows the taste of metal on his tongue, right hand held outward as he calls his own saber to his side, clipping it to his belt as casually as a child picking up its own toy.

And then he crosses the room, avoiding any direct aggression as he passes Prince's shoulder, aiming for the door. Angles a bitter stare at Ahsoka, punctuated by one last dig spat out across the edges of his own teeth:] This isn't finished.

[decommission]

[ Steve holds Ares' gaze, shock and anger beginning to dissipate as he rises to his feet again, the skin on his neck flushing red, but Ares is right - he hadn't meant it. There's no sense of major damage to his pride over that, only his recoiling against the idea of hitting someone that isn't intending to fight back.

He gives Ares a dubious once-over, trying to determine whether he's lying or not about hurting him. ]

I wanna learn. [ One side of his mouth twists downward. ] If I mean it, you'll block it this time?

[adamance]

[Palpable discomfort won't help someone's strength. Seeming confident in someone's ability to fight is what matters most. If she seems weak, she'll be targeted. If she serves a purpose, she will be held on to, even if she's dragged to another camp. Of course, their enemies want them dead, but their enemies likely won't be the only ones they'll face.

What Lexa knows, understands, of a life of survival is that there are always threads that get in the way, pieces that complicate matters. No one can work alone. No one can have resources that depend on just themselves. That's why it had been important to bring together the coalition. They had warriors from all different walks of life under one umbrella, all aware of the importance of joining together to face their enemies.

Together, they wouldn't fight and cut each other's numbers down. Together, they would succeed.

The Nest offers a similar yet entirely different scenario, one where safety is and may remain a risk for a very long time.]

Relax. Set it down for a moment. [They won't continue forward. Not yet. Titus' lessons move through her mind. How to approach them?]

Why did you come here? [A beat.] Well, first, before you answer that. What is your name? I am Lexa. [To engage in something more comfortable, or to give the illusion of it. With Lexa, much has a political, diplomatic air to it.]

[adamance]

And how difficult is this task? [There is clear recognition of the word "gun," but she knows little about the differences between them. They are all swift and violent in their ability to kill. They can take out countless people if they are used "correctly," and they are much too dangerous to use.

But she's still against them for a number of reasons.]

And why did you handle the gun in the first place?

[That's also important, she decides. It will give context to his life. The people who use guns in her world have very specific reasons for doing so.]

[snippycup]

[She might have flinched for Ren if he were anyone else, or if she wasn't greedily sucking in air after having been released. But in spite of both things, she is hastily climbing to her feet when she feels herself capable of movement again, refusing to let Ren taunt her from a superior vantage point. Even being on her feet when he spits in her direction doesn't temper the furious shake of her shoulders, nor does it temper the baring of carnivorous teeth.

And in that moment, she could hate no other more than she hates Kylo Ren. She stays silent, a clear desire to finish what had been started searing through every ounce in her blood. But that is where she differs from the full grown child being made to skulk away. She is in control, where he has none.

She snaps back, shouting past the hoarseness in her voice.]

Maybe next time you'll actually land a punch, buckethead.

[The back of her hand comes up to wipe away blood from her nose, and she doesn't bother to try and hide her frustration with Prince's interference. She says nothing and turns away from him, intent on putting what energy she has into returning equipment to its proper home, ignoring the dull ache in her limbs. She's hardly grateful for the rescue -- Ren would no doubt hold it over her head forever..]

[decommission]

Not that hard, once you figure out where all the parts go. [ There had been a lot more of them than he thought. And, well, he was much better at assembling and disassembling than he'd been the few times they actually tested the volunteers on their ability to fire them.

He straightens his shoulders, tone and expression hardening a bit. ] I'd just enlisted, back home. There's a war going on.

[ He's got no particular affection for guns either, but you had to know how to use one if you were getting shipped out.

(even believing that his presence would endanger them, he feels that slight ache of leaving his friends and home behind in the midst of war) ]

[regalled]

[He stops when he feels Cathaway press her presence into Ren's mind, unmistakable and familiar. Not nearly as overwhelming as she could be. Kid gloves. He stands still and allows the boy to gather himself and move past him, willing to believe that she had him managed.

Willing, but not so foolish as to allow those parting words to sit unchallenged. Cathaway may have him in hand but while Prince hardly expected his loyalty he would have his respect.]

You, [He turns his face to Ahsoka again, expression still steeled and tone still hard] silence. You shame yourself.

[And with that he turns sharp again to follow after Ren, steping quickly out the entrance to trail him.]

Turn. Face me, don't imagine you will continue on this way unchallenged.

[narcissithstic]

[Ren stops mid-stride, back held to Prince, chin canting only by careful degrees-- just enough to tip his head in acknowledgment of the fact that he'd heard Prince's demand.

And that he opts not to follow it blindly.

His side still aches; blood sits, smeared ruddy across his face from the line of his nose downward, painting him with an ugly swath of crimson he doesn't care to wash away. For all the illusions of grandeur he holds (for all the doubt that clings tightly to his shoulders) he knows that as he is in this moment, he can't compete. Cant rise to the challenge the way he otherwise would.

A few seconds longer, and Ren opens his mouth - wordless, working his jaw in agitation before at last turning on his heel, expression steeled. Unflinching.] I don't answer to you.

[circumspector]

[ It's what she wants. She doesn't want to be pitied, or coddled, she'd had enough of that for one life. If she was going to get hurt every again, she would do it on her own turns. He doesn't ask questions about things she doesn't want to talk about and with that in mind, she presses forward with his direction. ]

Yes sir. [ She nods once, following after him carefully. ] Do you mean weapons maintenance, making sure to learn its limitations, that sort of thing?

[regalled]

['All weird' was not the way he would chose to describe those who submerged themselves in the nest, but it was an understandable reaction. It was not a life many would think to ever chose for themselves. Then again, they had not felt the draw of it. The pull. The promise of understanding, the connection it offered. It was a greater temptation than the boy knew.]

That depends on what you are willing to be satisfied with. To merely access it does not require much more than simply being willing to search for it. To strengthen it you must go further. To reach the greatest potential it offers requires more. As all things, there is a cost. The greater the cost, the greater the reward. Some are more than willing to pay it.

[And some were willing to give nothing. But that was tantamount to surrender, and it would destroy you as simply.]

Using any of your new skills will bring you closer to the symbiote, regardless of intent. Be aware of this, but know that past a certain point you cannot fight it. You will change.

[erbier]

[ There's a part of Ilde that wants to reject all of this, but... even if she chooses to never use any of these weapons, to learn more about them will assist her. The consensus feeds her with much noise and pictures on the subject, but it is so foreign to her it makes little sense. ]

Yes, please.

[ The warmest she's been so far, loosening up a little now that she has some clear expectation of what is to be accomplished. A pause, she... should possibly... ]

My name is Ilde.

[regalled]

Indeed. Come, then.

[He turns neatly, heading towards the first of the spaces he thought likely to be useful, pace measured.]

I would as you to tell me what skills you already possess. But first, I would ask you to tell me what it is you would like to be called.

[There isn't quite an emphasis on 'you', but something about the spacing of the words approaches that. The subtlest of jabs for the fact that, as so many young hosts, he had demanded Prince's name and never provided his own. Still, he preferred the ceremony to simply relying on what he already knew]

[erbier]

[ She falls into rhythm beside him, mimics the purposeful way he moves. She lets her objections fall away and merely counts the steps in her head as if she were counting the steps of a dance. She watches their feet rather ahead of her, unconcerned about threats here in the training hall.

Was it that easy to be unafraid here? Or was that the reassuring aura of Cathaway and the Prince? She doesn't know, it nettles at her in the back of her mind, but lets that go too.

The physical training remains uninteresting to her... but her vague awareness of her broodmate beside her is more interesting. Syncing breath and heartbeat makes things fuzzy, blurring together in the warmth of burning muscle. She can feel him... wanting to push himself, and decides to support that notion until he is ready to be done. ]

[erbier]

Survive, kill, run.

[ A shrug, as if she doesn't think much of it, both that it is not an astounding skill nor that it is strange for a girl. ]

[circumspector]

[ She lowers the weapon, worried that she'd somehow completely misunderstood completely as the tip of the training blade settled beside her on the ground. Holding it out from her body careful, making sure not to drop it. ]

I'm, uhm, [ The casual diplomacy is something she can follow that -- that she does know. To put people at ease, to talk them through otherwise difficult situations, give them hope in the face of the insurmountable.

It's just odd to be on the other end of it. Flicks her gaze from the weapon up to her face again. ] I'm Angel. Thank you for helping me.

[ As for the second part, she stays quiet. She doesn't want to say the truth, not because she's practised at lying or finds a joy in it, but it's pathetic, but she knows what a waste her life is, how it sounds outlied. ] I came for the same reason everyone else did, it was an escape.

[circumspector]

[ She feeds her thoughts with a particular placement and quiet, there's order to her thoughts as she shares them back. A cabinet of files that she withdraws information with a practised ease. Lays it out neatly by rows as she begins to speak. ]

I'm Angel. It's a pleasure to meet you.

[ Says it with a duck of her head, as she moves closer to a table. Picks from the right side, and works her way across. ] All guns work via a small contained explosion in the barrel of the gun. [ Her fingers hover the gun -- a shotgun, but more than that, there is a curiosity to how she presses her fingers to the metal barrel, the way her thumb brushes to map the feel of smoothed sides. ] The explosion sends the bullet, a small bit of metal, into your target, and the barrel works to help you direct it. There is a lot of variation in how they work, but they all to work on that principal.

[ She shifts looking up at Ilde again, that sense of shifting there like a bed of wet sand, taking the shape of whatever is pressed into her, gauging her reaction. Moving herself to accommodate around however she responds. ]

[regalled]

I do not care.

[It is a smooth cut of a response, instant and sharp. It is true, to an extent, or true enough. Prince has had years to become accustomed to the lack of respect that many Hosts showed him, to their willful refusal to comply with requests regardless of how simple they were. And he had long ago been forced to come to the terms that he would never live a life of leadership unquestioned. He was no longer a leader of any sort. He was only a guardian. But whether or not he answered to him, he was his ward, as were they all. His responsibility. He took that seriously enough for everyone.]

If you continue to threaten the welfare of the other Hosts you will be dealt with. It does not matter who you once were or what power you once wielded that has left you with the expectation your behavior will be tolerated. [What strength he must have wielded, that his instinct was to simply subdue anyone he liked. A loss he would have to become accustomed to. That life was gone.]

Here you are merely another host and as such you are bound to the same expectations as all. If you cannot meet them you will not be permitted to stay. To injure one is to injure all, and while concessions may be made for unusual circumstances you make this a habit already. Change course.

[Or be discarded. A host such as him was like festering flesh in a healthy body. If it would not heal, if the blackness took hold the best option was to cut it out. The body would miss the flesh, but it would survive. A decision made many times before. If Cathaway weren't so intrigued by his chaotic mind-]

Adapt. I will not warn you again.

[regalled]

Yes, in part. And in part it is simply remembering that a weapon is dangerous, and not allowing yourself to engage in risky behavior simply because you have grown complacent.

[Discipline. Practice. Routine. A number of words both solid and often considered to be boring that he had pinned his life upon.]

And then there is simply developing the stamina and strength to hold and fire a weapon. You appear to lack that. [It is almost a laughable statement coming from someone as large as him, directed to someone as slight. 'Appear' may have been an understatement.] Strengthen your muscles and it will improve your accuracy.

[circumspector]

[ It's Roland, she belatedly realises, what he reminds her of. She always liked him best, at least, when it came to discussing matters calmly. But in a all too practised way, she files the information away on some larger database that she labels after him to be examined later.

Even if this is strange, not like weapons training was anything people on Pandora had. They didn't respect their weapons because they didn't care about living, or dying. He treats them seriously, carefully, considerate, no explosions and sick air guitar solos. Stifles that giggle, focus, Angel, stop trailing off when she's meant to be learning. ] I can work on that. [ Because there's no appear about, she knows that someone her build will never truly match someone his size or strength if it was just them. Especially when she feels like she barely comes up to his elbow.

It's just not the only thing that wins a fight, thankfully. ] Another thing... most of uh... my kind. We have a particular affinity for elements. But they can be quite literally explosive. Is there somewhere I could test that, where I won't hurt anyone? [ Gestures around the room and there are far too many flammable things, like people for instance, around. Pauses, gazing over it all briefly then draws herself back, adding for safeties sake. ] I wrote a program of Miss Cathaway, for these, she had my control collar too if you need it. [ her fingers lift, tapping the metal grates grafted to her skull. ] It should give a warning if anything goes wrong ahead of time. So I shouldn't uhm, melt anyone by mistake.

[ She needs to find a new way to explain that, that doesn't sound awful. ]

[vocalis]

[ Wow Ares, way to give Aoba a splitting headache already. But don't worry, there's plenty to go around and he shares it immediately through their connection. It's unintentional, but it's still Ares' own fault for smacking his broodmate so hard in the first place. ]

Ow! Tch- what was that for?!

[ If there's anything that hurts Aoba faster than his own weird headache problems, it's someone else touching his hair, even briefly. He feels that smack in more than just his head; it spreads through nerve endings in his hair and makes him go tense and rigid all over, like listening to nails on a chalkboard and being shocked at the same time. ]

Don't touch my hair! I can feel it.

[ And now maybe Ares can, too. Aoba was just trying to be nice and stretch together jeeze, he didn't ask for this harassment. ]

[vocalis]

[ Aoba still hasn't picked a weapon up, too nervous to even touch them. He looks from the funny guy with the handgun to the rack again, folding his arms tensely to his chest. ]

I hope they're optional. I don't want to look like a rebel... I'm done with that.

[ He's already gone through his rebellious stage, thanks very much. There were no guns involved, but still some pretty bad stuff... he thinks. His late teens are sort of a missing blur. But the memory of the police raid on his house is still fresh. He can practically hear Akushima's loudspeaker ringing in his ears, yelling about him being a criminal. All false charges, but that didn't make it any less scary.

Despite that, he wandered over here anyway... so maybe there is a little rebelliousness still in him. Maybe it's the same with this guy. ]

If you don't like them either, why did you decide to try them out?

[regalled]

Good, it will take time and effort, but you will see results more quickly than you expect.

[His tone is not overly bright but he is satisfied. She is agreeable, she listens, and she seems to be willing to learn. Whether she would remain that way, when it was revealed that things would be difficult, remained to be seen, but she seemed to have a complicated life. She already knew hardship.]

I can open a room for you, yes.

[It is the first sign he has given any of the new Hosts that there was more to the station than there appeared. But the rooms were empty, mostly wasted space. Very strong, as all of the station was, uniquely grounded, but useless without Hosts to utilize it.]

That sounds very wise. We attempt to melt as few Hosts as possible.

[He delivers the words in a way that is so entirely serious it is difficult to know whether there is an ounce of humor in them.]

I would suggest you take your time, however. Becoming part of the Nest can make your previous control less reliable than you are accustomed to. Be cautious until you know exactly how it has affected your ability.

[narcissithstic]

[The threat carries weight. Ren would be a fool not to recognize it, for all the power Prince houses within his chest. For the link that binds him to Cathaway-- even if Ren is certain he could challenge it, given enough time. Better circumstances. But for a moment, he squints, his features narrowed with bitter skepticism. The ghost of a smirk that flickers, tentative and too quick to fade only a beat later.] We'll see.

[He intends to find Cathaway. To speak to her again, and know if her stance echoes Prince's own - or if she fails to care at all how he spends his time. After all, it's not as if he was going to kill the girl. Not entirely.

Ren turns on his heel once more, this time determined to let nothing stop him.]