[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

[erbier]

I. POOL - First come first serve.

[ She has never seen so much water in her life, let alone water so clean. She had even been quite blessed in her position within the palace to have water at her fingertips, but it had come from a pipe in a small steady stream, it had not pooled before her like a mirror. She is simultaneously entranced and horrified by it. It is so beautiful and yet... Ominous. Too good to be true, it makes her heart stutter, her thoughts overwrought with paranoia.

She can be found sitting at a distance from the edge of the pool, simply staring at it, her expression distant and mournful. ]

II. TRAINING - Any training area, anyone, come forth and teach her something.

[ She is not very... how would you say... driven. So much of her life has been survival, that upon receiving her place in the gardens, she has spent all of her free moments at leisure, healing her soul, taking control of her weariness and her fear. She is not a soldier. She is a girl, a gardener, and the imposition of being called upon to do tedious physical exercise does not excite her.

She mainly watches the others from a distance, bored and irritated. ]

III. WILDCARD - Do what you do.

[decommission]

i. TRAINING HALL

[ The weirdest part about this so far - beyond the talk of theoretical superpowers and upcoming space missions - is how well this weird jumpsuit fits him.

When left to his own devices Steve wanders toward this way, stepping around the sections of padded flooring and foam-torsos. He gives one a slow push with his hand, watching it snap straight again. Eyes it for another second or two. Bucky had taught him how to throw a punch, thumb outside his fist, but his fights have always ended in a tangle of limbs, skin rubbed raw against brick and pavement. There's a rough, coppery edge to his thoughts as he considers the soft foam, lifting both fists like a boxer and throwing a solid hit to the molded solar plexus of the dummy. No finesse or signs of proper training to his movements to anyone with an eye for that sort of thing, not that the dummy cares. It snaps back and then forward, shaking its way back and forth to a neutral position. ]

ii. TRACK

[ Steve can't say he's got a clue what his specialized skill is, but between IOTA and RHO he's got an idea what his symbiote might be.

The confusion of the hatching had made it less obvious, the almost constant background noise of broodmates and the nest acting as a grainy film over his senses. But when it started to calm -

He takes the track at a slow run at first, focusing on the air moving in and out of his lungs. Even when he picks up speed after a minute, Steve's legs and feet are pounding the track at an average eight and a half minute mile run. In and out, his lungs start to burn.

It feels good.

At two miles he slows his pace for a half minute, slows to a walk for another, then stops. Bends down to press his hands on his knees. In between pants he lets out a sharp, surprised laugh, the sensation of being winded and, for some reason, glad for it bubbling off of him to anyone nearby.

If someone approaches, he'll look up and straighten with a sort of daze half smile, sweat on his brow and his face flushed red from the run. ]

Wanna do a lap?

iii. WILDCARD

( Anything you want! He can be found eyeing the weapons rack or wandering around the range, looking like he's not sure where to start with the lasers and swords. )

[regalled]

[He moves.

Slowly and methodically through the different areas set aside and reserved for the betterment of the Hosts, watching, mostly, getting a feel for these new faces, their strengths and their weaknesses. The things which they were comfortable and the things which they were not. The symbiotes found something worthy, something valuable in all of them, but what it was was not always clear.

In the training hall he is unarmed, for the moment, and he lingers at the edges, watching with eyes sharper than the ones he'd been born with and ears keener.

He is not surprised to find the solid, steady one among those that had come to learn. He had wanted to, despite his apparently frail form. It was a heartening thing, and it is something that keeps him from despairing when he sees the blow he strikes on the dummy.]

Your feet are not placed correctly. Without a proper stance you remain forever vulnerable.

BACKDATED DAY 151 (to the host currently known as Prince)

[decommission]

[ He's better settled, relatively. He no longer has a splitting headache, just a dull, throbbing one that comes and goes. Manageable.

He can do this.

The path to the training wing is the same as before, which anywhere else wouldn't (and shouldn't) be all that surprising. He's dressed in the clothes provided for him, fresh and clean as can be. As he enters the wing there's a briskness to his step too, anticipation for whatever he's about to walk into. An eagerness to prove, not necessarily to the guardian he's off to meet again.

He needs to prove something to himself. ]

ii

[circumspector]

[ She tries always to be well meaning, nervous as she is - it's a little intimidating to be expected to be part of the world she had only ever watched. She's keen to hit the ground running, to meet expectations as quickly as possible.

But that's... more daunting than she originally thought. So she hangs back and finds herself in company doing so, apparently. Not that she's opposed to it. Cheerful, always cheerful. r at least positive, an inclination to look out rather than look back. ]

Are you nervous too?

[circumspector]

i. TRAINING HALL

[ She takes the gear the same as everyone, and still she watches other to take her cues. Though now it is more glances, rather than open observance. Double checking against others that she's doing it correctly. Tugging it all into place. It's getting better, this weight, and -- she's still determined to do better at this, to meet the expectations.

Hitting the ground is just harder than it sound. But as she sort of stares overwhelmed at the mass of equipment, she blinks at it taken back. ]

Do we know where we're meant to start?

[ She's got a lot of catching up to do, apparently. What did vault hunters carry? Something for close range, something for long range. She heard that the mission wasn't supposed to be violent, but -- she'd watched Pandora for too long to ever really believe that. ]

ii. BLAT BLAT

[ The curiosity gets her, and she creeps in with the guilt of a teenage doing something she shouldn't.

It shouldn't be thrilling -- she has a planets observation of what guns can do. For violence, she is a encyclopaedia of information. But they are exactly something to it because of that. It's an itch, to be close to the life of the others that she had been denied. Going through the rows and rows of guns. Compares them to a mental catalogue. No, the guns weren't the same. But she could see shades of Maliwan, Torgue, and Hyperion in amongst them. Guns were guns, she guessed, even in a different galaxy.

She takes her time to pick something out for herself, before deciding - pistols were smaller, that was better right? Goes over the form, knows the rules. Don't load it until she goes to the shooting booth, and then and only then does she turn the safety off, never point it at anyone she didn't intend to hurt. There's something that flickers between elation and utter panic that she's doing this. Lines up her shot, takes a deep breath. She had watched vault hunters take down monsters the size of sky scrapers, shooting pure acid. Granted they barely cared about gun safety, but its not like anyone on Pandora cared. She could shoot a dinky pistol right? Right. So far, so good. Looked just like them, but they were never this nervous. They didn't have time to be nervous.

It hardly feels real, as she does it. Pressing her mouth into her shoulder one last time to smother something that would sound hysterical if she let it escape. One deep breath and she pulls the trigger for the first time in her life.

What she isn't expecting, is it to be so loud, and -- what is worse, is the kickback is more than she ever expected. Realises her mistake almost instantly, when it jerks into her body, that she held her arm too stiffly. Her grip slips immediately and the gun clatters onto the bench top as she yelps with her surprise. Quiet, missed under the roar of gunfire. ] Oh, Fuc- [ catches herself, and her head snaps like she really does expect to be caught. Then finishes a little more quietly. ] Fudge.

[ and on cue, the voice tof the shooting range tones back with her stats: ] One shot fired. 0% accuracy. [ and she scowls up at it, thanks for the reminder computer, it was her first try. ]

iii. wildcard

[ take your pick, she'll be trying whatever seems like might take her fancy which is just about anything, so. if you're not sure, hit me up here or on plurk @themajesty ]

[regalled]

[It was nothing so strong as a promise so much as it was simply this: he had told the boy tomorrow, and it would do him no harm to be in the Training Wing today. There was matinence to perform, checks to assure everything functioned as it should, that the spaces were yet still prepared for the new broods.

He had already done it all before they arrived, but he believed in thoroughness, and with a plan to follow, a routine little changed, it was better to assure it remained in good condition.

The minds of the new Hosts aren't yet quiet, but they were less overwhelming as they stopped feedbacking quite so much pain and confusion. It was something of a relief, even if he could still hear their coming and going like overloud children in a house of thin walls. Useful, when he is expecting one of them, at least. It gives him time to go back to the exit and stand ready for his arrival.]

You have come. Good.

[No measure of surprise in his voice. He had not questioned his will in this.]

Do you have more questions before we begin?

[faul]

Lockers

[ Romy has always had reasons to avoid skintight fabrics. It's not only a pain to constrain herself and the fact she dislikes the sensation of something wrapping around her like a glove, it's also the fact she's what you would call... chest heavy, and while that never really bothered her from an aesthetic point of view, but boobs tend to get in the way. Hers get in the way far more often than she would like.

Hence why she's standing there, staring at the uniform intently, wondering just how bad she's going to look. Which is funny because she had thought to be beyond such petty concerns for years now, and yet... shit happens. You get dragged into weirder shit than you've ever seen and now the orange kinky jumpsuit is suddenly a concern. ]

I could just use my regular clothes.

[ Keep telling yourself that. ]

Training Hall

[ Rinse and repeat, more hitting things and trying to ignore everything else, ever. Specially now that she knows there's an incoming mission and they sort of need to get ready for something. Anything. Weird space stuff. Weird hivemind stuff. Something.

Eventually she'll just go sit on a mat and look miserable, because this isn't distracting at all. Maybe someone wants to spar? But she won't ask, because that would involve initiative and social skills. ]

Wildcard

[ There was a whole lot of standing around feeling inadequate, feel free to bother her then. ]

I

[faul]

[ Romy strides right past her, wearing whatever they're supposed to wear to enter the pool (most certainly not the ridiculous orange spandex things, maybe a one piece swimsuit?), looks at the water and jumps in, purposely splashing everything ever around.

She emerges a moment later, gasping a bit in surprise. ]

It's... not freezing cold. [ She was expecting it to be like regular pools, but apparently everything's kind of nice and muted in here. ] Figures.

[ Welp, time to do some laps. ]

[faul]

You know you can say fuck if you feel like it, right?

[ It's very difficult for Romy not to find one of her brood without meaning too, her steps taking her towards Angel almost by themselves. It's also hard not to smile a bit at the other girl's restraint, which feels woefully unnecessary considering the circumstances. ]

Please tell me that was the first time you have ever fired anything in your life.

[circumspector]

[ It's hard not to jump when she finds herself with company. Get used to Angel, people are just going to keep appearing like that. All chiding mockery that comes easy to deflect with. At least internally.

Except that's hardly private any more. ]

I know. [ a guilty little smile. catching her weight against the bench edge. ] Don't laugh, but I haven't been allowed to do that or shoot a gun before?

[ sorry broodmates and nest, a world full of mass murdering, gun toting crazies, and this place for some reason picks the girl that has no actual life experience. ]

[adamance]

gym

[It's not that her people are unfamiliar with weights and gym equipment, but they tend to go about making and securing their own devices. Without electricity, they can't very well repurpose anything like that. But they have managed, as any culture might when they are both largely warriors and largely brought up to fight.

When Lexa enters the gym, she is surprised about the range of equipment, and only toils around anything that involves buttons or a screen for a short time before setting out for the weights, for anything that involves hanging or climbing, or anything in-between. Her actions are swift, methodical, but very, very human—just a very well-trained one.

When she notices someone watching her, she turns toward them, no longer resonating with the uneasy contempt from her initial arrival.]

Would you like to work together?

[She has a goal, a single-minded purpose behind being here. She knows that she can't come to terms with it on her own.]

training hall

[Her initial movements are like the ones she took in the gym: solo, independent, and without any intention of drawing someone else in. Her choice of weapons tends toward swords and pikes, though she's no stranger to many of them (or some form of them). What does surprise her is the nature of the weapons. Though they are appropriately weighted, her people don't tend toward practice weapons of the same kind. It doesn't prepare you for battle. But she keeps her thoughts to herself. She can trust, at least, that no one will use this opportunity to take her life.

Then again, a well-handled practice weapon could do the same type of harm if she struck the right area. She can think of several.

When she finishes her independent study, she takes up two swords and sits near the edge of the room near the entrance, legs crossed and mind calm. The moment someone joins her, she lifts her head up and takes up one of the practice swords, offering it out.] Shall we?

[For her, this comes with a level of expectation. It resonates around her. Of course, she also wants to see what shape the other Hosts are in. That's a point of concern, as well.]

wildcard

[Lexa will be hitting everything—in the locker room, someone may catch a glimpse of her tattoos, or in the range, they'll see (and feel) her extreme willingness to avoid any and all guns (or gun-like things). Basically, I'm open to whatever, and to her training people or chastising their abilities.]

[erbier]

[ Ilde's expression remains peevish, but does not grow more so at the girl's greeting. Nothing much about her expression changes at all, carefully composed and restrained. ]

I'm not sure I see the point of it all.

[erbier]

[ Ilde doesn't know what a regular pool is meant to feel like, she doesn't know what one wears in the pool, she doesn't know how to swim and has never seen anyone do so. Watching it now, she is faced with the dissonance of seeing it with her eyes and yet still wondering how Romy did not drown. The fear is primal, not rational.

The fear bleeds from her without her control, infecting the room. ]

[circumspector]

[ In return she's calm, but it's not a flat restraint, just a pointed easiness, that keeps her pleasant. ]

Of training? I thought the point is always obvious? [ says it with a shrug, turning out again. Fiddling again with her clothes, smoothing over them like it would some how make them easier to wear. ] Or do you not want to?

[vocalis]

I. Never write phone top levels at 2am

[ It's a miracle Aoba Seragaki is here on station 72. Looking at him, you would think he should be in a completely different station. A police station. A fashion police station, because wow that neon blue puffy jacket? Those equally neon big-buttoned shoes? Terrible. Law breaking. Arrest him. Why would anyone show up to physical training in those, let alone wear them anywhere at all.

But the fashion gods are real, because there's a change of clothes provided. Praise be. It's not yet past Easter but I'm gunna say it; hallelujah. Not just for the change, but for the fact that Aoba looks mm-mm A+ damn good in a form fitting space onesie. Honeycomb pattern? Yeah boy he looks pretty sweet. Tight in every sense of the word. Okay, it's not really the best fashion in the universe, but anything is better than the outfit he arrived in. A garbage bag is better than the outfit he arrived in.

His long hair is still offensively blue, but that's part of what makes Aoba... Aoba. He should really tie it back; it's getting in his face during stretches, already turning into more of a mess than usual. Like Jareth the Goblin King levels of extreme mullet. And still he won't do anything more than carefully, carefully run his fingers through it to get it back out of his eyes. He does it as he eagerly addresses you- ]

Need any help stretching, or do you think you're ready to run?

[ Maybe you don't need help, but wow does he. Not with stretching, not with running or working out, but with hair. With life.

Free him. ]


II. Fire in the hole (aw yeah son)

[ Guns? Guns??? Aoba isn't sure if guns are the best post-workout routine, but he's found himself in the shooting range. His outfit is still fine as heck, hair still a god forsaken mess, but there's a new look on his face that says what the top of this paragraph says.

Hand guns were outlawed in Japan in the seventies, also know as ancient times according to Aoba's time measuring standards. Almost no one on Midorijima owns guns and nearly all forms of them are illegal, with onerous restrictions placed on the few that are. Aoba has never even seen one this close before, let alone all these different types. Lasers? Get out. ]

I'd be arrested for just holding one of these back home.

[ But this ain't Kansas anymore. Actually if it were he'd probably be fine with this, because anywhere in America is a terrible comparison for guns no matter how famous the quote. Damn that wizard movie. ]

Guns are so... extreme. Do we really need to train with them? Think we'll really use them on the field?

[ He's having a hard time working up the nerve just to break his homeland law and pick one up, all sorts of rules and no-no's running through his head as he stares at the collection. ]

[decommission]

[ He stops some paces away, trying not to let the open space of the room (and the quiet) overwhelm and distract.

His greeting is cut off by the question. Eyes remain fixed on the Prince, shoulders squared like he's standing in a line. ]

The folks that don't wanna be here - what happens to them? [ There are, approximately, a million and one questions buzzing around his head: about the nature of the symbiote, the leftover items in the rec wing, the emptiness of this place. Those he has time to learn. Their arrival had been one part rescue, one part conscription, and one part irreversible change done to them in their sleep. Parker had outright rejected his place here, planning on going home somehow. Ilde had accepted it in tears, believing she didn't have a world to go back to.

Even if it's walking back into certain death, he wants to know that they at least have that choice. ]

1 bc I have to, good lord aoba

[mercenares]

[Oh. It's the "computers" guy again-- honestly, Ares is surprised to see him here. Aoba didn't strike him as the type to bother.

Points for effort, but not for execution. He watches Aoba carefully brush his hair from his face... watches it again... and huffs out an annoyed sound as he aims the heel of his palm at Aoba's forehead. Just a smack, but it'll definitely be harder than it needs to be.]

Are you stupid? Nothing's gonna stop and let you fix your hair when you're moving!

[Says the guy whose face is always half-covered by his own bangs... but let's not split hairs here.]

gym

[decommission]

[ Steve tears his gaze from the sixty foot cargo net (and away from the thought of his defeat against it at Camp Lehigh), staring at the young woman for a moment before nodding at her question. ]

Sure.

[ The jumpsuit has his slim figure framed. There's nothing about his physique that says he has a chance to make it to the top of the net in record time or be much use spotting her with those weights, but he rolls on his heels a bit, energetic for the challenge. ] What've you got in mind?

training hall

[decommission]

[ He passes her once as he walks around the hall, stretching - then a second time. That's when he stops, head canting to one side. ]

You alright? [ Cuz you're just sitting there, looking all unhappy about something. On his end, Steve seems quite the opposite. He's exhausted, and pleased about it for some reason. ]

[insurrectum]

( ONE. ) We hit a wall That we put on

[ The voice in his head makes him clench his teeth. If he keeps going like this, he will flatten them. He groans, angry sound from the back of his throat, and pushes a hand to his head. Shut up, shut up, shut up. Parker has only grown increasingly angrier as time goes. The supply of antivirus is limited, he has no friends here (he does not and refuses to make any and will continue to act as so until he dies, because he wants to have nothing to do with these people), he has no purpose and he does not want to help anyone in whatever fight they are supposed to fight. This is not his battle. His is back home. His responsibility, his purpose.

It is what destroys him the most. The loss of the self. Hits too close home with the infection within. The loss of the self is what scares him the most.

No wonder he looks constantly tired, either, with his constant struggle of keeping an instinct that he refuses to acknowledged as his to become part of the rest. He doesn't want to belong. It is a battle that he doesn't back down from. He's persistent. He's a fucking cockroach. He has survived something nobody else has back home. Parker is stubborn enough to believe that he will get through this obstacle too.

So while everyone heads to the gym, he pushes in the opposite direction. He goes upstream the river. Bumps someone hard enough to push past them - not necessary, but he does it for his own selfish benefit. Like pinching yourself; he goes upstream to avoid the flow. ]

( TWO. ) And the seeds I sow will grow up prisoners too

[ He only barely looks at the gym when he passes by it once again. Judging look, a sneer, eyes up and down the figure in the center and trying to shut his own mind down. Wants to become silent, even if he has no idea how to start. Somewhere. He has never been one to back down from a challenge, anyway.

He walks down the corridors of the Station. An uneasy feeling of crushing loneliness washes over him, sudden, like being hit by a train. He stops dead in his track, breathing through clenched teeth. This is not his own feeling. He feels it, the pull to go back to the room. To go there. To participate. He fights it. Closes his eyes, curls his fingers into the palm of his hand, hard enough to push his nails into skin. This is not his own.

He stops by the chamber where the rooms connect and stands in the middle. Looks up, trying to understand this place, this prison. There is a way out somewhere and he is going to find it.

There is a creaking behind him and he turns, slowly, hand on where his gun usually is but isn't there. He sneers. ]

What are you doing here?

[ Because the reason why he is is clearly nobody else's business. ]

( THREE. ) A lot of hope in a one man tent

[ Parker is not in the training arena to train at all. It certainly looks like he is just there as if he had gotten lost. Not that he gives off the feeling, but he isn't running. He isn't practising. He is just standing there, looking around. To the walls. The ceiling.

It does not matter to him if he is an inconvenience to the others using the tracks. He stops dead in the middle of it, mapping out the place with detailed attention. Has a pen, scribbling something in his old, tattered notebook. Taking notes, doodling things. Learning, mapping, detailing the Station. Trying to find a weak spot. Many weak spots. He hasn't had much luck - yet. He's patient enough to study every damn corner of this hellhole until he finds one. And once he does, he is going to exploit it.

He does not belong here.

He pushes himself up the higher place of the shooting range, to inspect the weapons. None cause real damage, so that's useless to him. Picks one up and sits down with it on his lap, scribbling something on the notepad and clearly uninterested in using any of the available facilities. He doesn't care for when there is a gathering down there, doesn't care for the briefing and very purposefully hums a song inside his head, as loud as he can. It is the only way so far he has found to push out thoughts. Some preteen act of rebellion. ]

training hall

[circumspector]

[ There's a real second where she swears this woman has to be talking to someone else. Ducks her head away to check there wasn't someone behind her that she was mistaken for.

But no, that expectation seems levelled at her exactly. So she takes the handle of that blade, tentatively. Is she holding it right? She can't tell, it feels unwieldy in her hand. ]

Are you sure? I've never used one of these before.

[ There's a guilt prickle, because it's rather that she's never fought anyone before at all. Athena and Zer0 used them often enough, and there's a certain understanding that comes from watching others fight, that she'd need another weapon outside of a gun. Something for if she got stuck in close quarters, ran out of bullets, whatever it was. Her powers sure, but those weren't exactly absolute all the time. Too controllable at the moment. ]

[erbier]

I am not a soldier.

[ So what she objects to, really, is the physicality of it all. Put her in a classroom and maybe she would be more receptive. ]

I'm just a gardener, that is what I do.

[ Before that she was nothing at all. That one title is everything to her. Change is difficult.... and this is quite a momentous one. Fear, hesitance, uncertainty, it makes a toxic mixture inside of her that keeps her here to the sides. ]

[circumspector]

Neither am I. I worked with technology most of my life, [ magical powers aside ] it's about as hands off as it gets.

[ She shrugs, laughing it off easy, because she's watched the story a hundred times. People either fought, or the didn't. They either died, or they didn't. Pandora didn't give anyone much of a choice. Adapt or die, was the order of that corner of galaxy. She intended to take that lesson to heart, as good examples as she'd had in the process of fighting to stay alive. ]

But I wouldn't want to let anyone down either. [ starts formulating, absent routines, her own form of adapting, built around helping others do the same. ] We could do it together, if you like. I don't think I know any more than you do, so we can work it out together, if you want?

[ It's daunting as an idea, to go it alone, just step up to some proverbial plate with half a dozen instructions and work it out all by yourself. ]

[regalled]

[He takes a breath. It is a serious question, one which there was no simple or kind answer. The kind of question which could easily leave one unwilling to move forward, unwilling to engage in the task they had set themselves to.

But he had offered to answer, and so there was little choice.]

That depends. Some, with time to come to terms with their new circumstances, realize that they had chosen to come for a reason. They live. Others don't. They demand to return, or they find their end some other way.

[They settled poorly. They drove themselves to distress. They died in the field or they died by their own hand. There were things they- he and Cathaway, could not prevent, as much as they may try.]