raiamods: (Default)
raiamods ([personal profile] raiamods) wrote in [community profile] ethyraia2021-05-21 04:56 pm
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◣ OPEN ◢ HATCHING LOG 001

WHO: All PCs
WHAT: New characters arrive on Ethyraia, get interrogated, and settle in at the basecamp.
WHEN: May 21 onward
WHERE: Basecamp Leviathan
NOTES/WARNINGS: Potential character nudity, violence, trypophobia (images) as well as light mentions of gore, alcohol and drug-use, light aphrodisiac effects (optional), and references to mass death.


HATCHING LOG 001 ❀
CONTENT WARNINGS: potential character nudity, violence, trypophobia (images) as well as light mentions of gore, alcohol and drug-use, light aphrodisiac effects (optional), and references to mass death.

Players who participated in our TDM are welcome to keep their CR and the content of those threads. Please make sure to chat this out on the OOC intro & CR meme before making assumptions. Please take your time reading the hatching and basecamp bullets, as some items have been altered or expanded.

❀ HATCHING


Congrats, you've woken up in an egg. I'm sure this is exactly how you wanted to spend your Saturday, right? There's no time to get curious and check out the other egg sacs. By the time you've fought your way out of the membranous sac, spilled electric blue goop everywhere, wiped it out of your eyes and sundry other orifices to get your bearings, you have a spear (or a gun) leveled at your face, throat, or other vital organs. Even if you might be inclined to fight, you can barely lift your arms to protest being grabbed and dragged off. Before you can even get a word in edgewise, you've been thrown into a holding cell.

Characters will not have a chance to retrieve their items at the time of the first hatching, and may not even know there is anything left in the remaining eggs.

The holding cell stinks of something sour and acidic, like rotted citrus, but you are not alone. Several other detainees sit in similar squalid confusion, dressed strangely and equally gooey. Time to make nice, ask questions... figure out what the hell is going on, and maybe do something about all that slime?

Over the next few days, a few things become clear. Despite the alien greeting, your captors speak a language that you understand, and the unpleasant circumstances are revealed to be a matter of necessity, not choice. Supplies are low, but they ensure that the new arrivals' time imprisoned is as painless as can be — they offer hot communal showers of less than three minutes, some strange starchy meal-replacement, and medical treatment to those in need. You might strike up a conversation with your new best friend in the shower over a low soap dispenser or when you realize you might need to share towels.

The cost of these luxuries comes in the form of touch-and-go interrogation by the security officers keeping tabs on the cells and supervising the shower time.

A few notes:
Your character may get pulled away for interrogation at some point. No torture, no drugs; just questioning. If you would like to thread this out, please reply to CAPT CHILDE'S top level comment! A caveat: threads will not go beyond (TEN) NPC replies, and new tag-ins will not be responded to after MAY 24.

☆ Locals will be stopping by outside the freestanding holding cells to ogle or ask questions. Are you really going to be mean to that little kid staring at you with wide eyes?

☆ Characters will be let out for bio breaks. No one has to pee in a bucket, that's just inhumane!

Attempts to escape will probably get you tasered. If your character composes a genius jailbreak, you are welcome to submit it in the MOD QUESTION comment to work out how that might go with the NPCs!

❀ EXPLORE THE BASECAMP

On the heels of a little benign interrogation, a medical inspection, and a stern talking to by Captain Childe, the survivors at Basecamp Leviathan determine one thing: you don't appear to be an active threat.

Released from the detention center after three days, you are given the run-down by the locals — you're on a planet called Ethyraia, and the people around you are survivors of the catastrophic crash of the UCSS Adamant several years prior. You, in fact, showed up on the third anniversary of the crash. Weird coincidence, huh?

The first order of the day is having a proper meal at the mess hall — some of the Adamant's survivors will be friendlier than others. They've been stranded here for years, remember? Some of them will be so desperate to talk to someone who has news of other places, and some will be giving you the cold shoulder.

You'll be fed the same as the rest of them. A plastic plate of crumbled protein of unidentifiable origin and gravy over rice with a single wilted stalk of broccoli and a cup of the worst coffee you've ever had. Maybe somebody bumps into you and spills said coffee, maybe you make it all the way to one of the long tables set out for communal eating.

Time to strike up a chat with your neighbor — maybe ask them to pass the salt?

(What do you mean, there's no salt!?)

During this time, characters will be able to return to the Central Chrysalis where they hatched. While there are no clues as to how they got there, they might find items — their own, or someone else's. Everyone is strapped for supplies, but try not to snatch up anything that isn't yours. The security officers don't look kindly on people chasing one other down the hall, trying to get back their dirty magazines.

A few notes:
☆ Feel free to help out anywhere. Every little bit of assistance you offer to the locals will raise their estimation of you. You could easily help clean dishes after the meal, help fix leaky piping or repair hammocks. You could stop by the aid station and assist with the wounded. You'll be watched closely and some of the survivors will be warier than others, but most will appreciate the opportunity to have a 'break'.

☆ If your character leaves the basecamp and wanders outside the Leviathan, they may begin to notice that what they perhaps took as a giant cave is actually an enormous dragon. Everything that seems human-made will look varying levels of worn down, patched, repaired and patched again. This is not a place of prosperity and happiness. Many people are recently injured, or have new scars or missing limbs.

☆ PCs will be warned about the acid rain and inhospitable wildlife that they'll face if they venture beyond the shade of the dragon's wings.

❀ RECRUITMENT FAIR



You've been here for a week, had a chance to show your mettle. Maybe you've demonstrated a propensity for fixing gadgets (or plumbing!) or you have the command of a natural leader and the ability to wield a gun (or a tire iron!) to great effect. Either way, the Adamant's survivors are eager to put you to work so they can have their first real 'days off' in three years! Survivors have set up their various areas in the hopes of catching your attention and (possibly!) bolster their numbers! Feel free to wander around, talk to other PCs, and get the lay of the land.

ENGINEERING CORPS

Thorkil has welded a sign to a post out front, cheerfully painted by a gaggle of children to say "WELCOME!" The children are crowded around the area, and Thorkil is telling them stories about one of his many tattoos as you approach — he has a magnificent eagle tattooed on his arm, and in a hush he is explaining how it landed on him and tried to bite him like a mosquito, and how he slapped it and it just splattered right there on his arm and he's never been able to wash it off!

The children seem mesmerized by the story (maybe you are too?) and will scatter at the story's conclusion, tugging you over to the various areas, pointing things out excitedly. What is an Ehlers-Chau sublight engine? You're about to find out whether you like it or not! Or maybe you can teach them a thing or two. Those who seem to know their stuff will be eagerly invited on board by Thorkil.

The Engineering division has salvaged its tools and scrap from the Adamant’s wreckage, so it has all of the essentials from metal mills to CNC routers to circuitry tools. A holo projector throws schematics on the wall — a drill, a few potential shelter ideas for long-term settlement, and a new communications tower.

SECURITY DIVISION

Rémi has barely deigned to participate — and seems to have done so only at the request of some of his companions. He's sitting at an unadorned table and he is cleaning a variety of weapons. He will scowl if approached, and seems openly mistrustful of your intentions should you speak to him. Questions about how a conversation with Rémi might go may be posted to the MOD QUESTIONS thread. (Note: We will not be threading Rémi, so these questions will be handwaved!)

Characters who make a positive impression on him will open up the avenue to work for the Security Division later, but he will not be extending any offers now — please allow for a realistic period of development here!

Feel free to lean into another PC's space and comment on how frosty that dude seems! You can also survey the various weapons stored in racks, help out with building spears, the usual suspects.

THEATRE

The theatre doubles as a childcare center, and many of the NPCs bustling about seem very excited and eager for the chance to talk to anyone who ventures in to visit. The theatre is bright and cheerful, paintings have been done on the walls of scenes from children's stories featuring colorful characters.

The thespians will not only try to recruit you (for acting in a play, for teaching, for script writing, for drawing on the walls or caring for children) but they will actively put you to work if they see you standing idle longer than a moment! Your character may find themselves with a paintbrush in hand, or taking part in a recital for a play (you're free to invent one, or put a new spin on an old classic! Romeo and Julio, anyone?) or building a set piece for one of the many local productions.

The Theatre doubles as the protective hub in times of need, so beyond arts education and babysitting, your character may also be tasked with shoring up those defenses, helping to fortify the walls, or other such tasks. And who knows, they may be paired off with someone else rather unexpectedly!

AID STATION

Sunya Hyacinth is the local medical doctor, fueled by coffee and spite. She doesn't have the time to recruit personally — she's flitting about the aid station seeing to the injured.

If you follow her, she will put you to work. Hold this stent, articulate this dislocation, take this blood pressure reading. If anyone appears to have a proficiency for this sort of work, she may inquire after credentials — and anyone who seems to have medical experience is going to immediately be handed the medic's armband, a white band with a blue cross emblazoned on it. This armband will grant any PC an extra amount of respect and trust from the Adamant's survivors — but you'd better be able to live up to it!

Feel free to treat any injured PCs, converse with other 'recruits', help pin that white and blue arm-band on... you know, anything under the sun. Some of the patients in the medical bay seem to be suffering from the adverse effects of some of the local flora — itching hives or burning pustules. One unfortunate soul seems only able to speak in limericks, which the medical staff will admit is one of the odder things they’ve seen.

SANITATION

CONTENT WARNING: DRUG REFERENCES

It's a dirty job, but somebody's gotta do it! There are always latrines to be dug, pipes to be repaired, general maintenance to be done on the various sanitation systems.

A nervous-looking janitor will approach your character almost shyly, and ask if you wouldn't mind giving her a hand. If you are willing to help her (fix a pipe, dig a hole, etc), she will gradually warm up to you and seem more animated and lively and very, very grateful. Won't you please consider working with the Sanitation crew? Sure, it's not as glamorous as some of the other duties, but they're the backbone of the Basecamp and they could really use the help!

She'll even let you in on a little secret if you really butter her up or show an interest — the Sanitation Crew? Totally has a little underground greenhouse where they're growing marijuana. They're totally willing to share...

Feel free to dig latrines alongside your fellow PCs, or maybe even share a joint. It's a way to pass the time, right? PCs serving in sanitation will also have an easier time overhearing the gossip that spreads around the base, since no one looks twice at them.

COMMUNITY OUTREACH

CONTENT WARNING: REFERENCES TO MASS DEATH

During their first two weeks in the basecamp, any character who stops by one of the various houses of worship (in addition to a church, a synagogue, and a mosque, there is a temple with small statues to fifteen different unfamiliar deities, many of whom seem to be from different faiths), the gymnasium, or the mess hall will come across a stand that hosts a dozen or so packages.

Wrapped in the black emergency blankets that many bring with them to and from the bunks, these packages are about one cubic foot and contain folded clothes in roughly the same sizes. The styles are all different and highly individualized. Some are luxe, some are basic, and some are clearly the undershirt (but not the proper outerwear) for uniforms of the Adamant’s crew. Warm-faced folks eagerly give out a single package to each new hatchling. Along with the clothing and blanket, hatchlings will receive basic packages containing basic toiletries — bar soap, a toothbrush, a straight razor, etc.

Come by at the wrong time, and you might see a fight break out. A young person, red-faced, shouts at the volunteers working these stands, “Those were our people! Our families! We should be the one to decide what’s done with what they left behind.”

In hushed tones, clearly trying to keep this from becoming a conflict, the lead volunteer insists, “Take it up with Captain Childe.”


A few notes:
Feel free to have your character sign on to help out with any of the listed divisions, with the exception of security.

☆ Characters may collect one (1) care package from the community outreach program. If your character intends to come back for more, please let us know in the Mod Questions thread.

☆ Feel free to ask for light NPC interactions in the MOD QUESTIONS header; we can give you a general idea of how a conversation might go! Like with the Captain Childe threads, none of these threads will be lengthy, and new tag-ins will not be responded to after MAY 24.

❀ THE DREAMING

You are standing at the edge of an immense, underground lake. Water laps at the shore, echoing in the cavern. There is a sense of peace and warmth and — welcome.

A creature emerges from the lake and approaches you. Its gills flutter, its eyes are a faint bioluminescent glow in the darkness. It reaches out to touch you — one long, elegant finger presses against your chest. It feels as if it might crack your sternum open and ferret beneath your bones as if looking, looking for something. Yet, there is no malice from it, and you feel no fear.

But the creature relents. It backs up. Bows to you once, and then turns and walks back into the water.

You stay for some time at the edge of the lake. Eventually, it seems as if another person is here with you, or perhaps they simply came into focus after being here just as long as you. Should you speak with them?

A few notes:
PCs may interact with one another in the dreams. They will be in a semi-conscious state, not wholly aware they are dreaming and not wholly under the impression of its normalcy.

☆ Your character will wake up naturally from the Dreaming, they will feel peaceful and refreshed.
The lake, if they choose to swim in it while dreaming, would be perceived as the perfect ambient temperature for them — some characters may prefer it to be warmer or colder!

☆ If they duck below the water, they will see far-off glittering city lights, but no matter how they try to swim towards them they will never get any closer!

☆ If your character tries to drink the water, they might notice that for a few minutes after they wake they can hear little snippets of NPC thoughts. Weird!

☆ Every character will have a small, pale lilac mark where they were touched on the chest. It will fade over the next few days.

❀ FETCH QUEST

CONTENT WARNING: REFERENCES TO LIGHT APHRODISIAC EFFECTS

A small, perky woman corrals you somewhere near the latrines. "Hey!" she says insistently, pushing her hat back and sending a spill of inky curls askew from her forehead. "We need a hand. There's this plant we get for Sunya — the Doc? You met her yet? — it's a painkiller. Go through a shitload of that, which I'm sure is quite surprising," she says all this in a single breath, and her expression is sour despite her cheery tone.

"You any good at botany? We need another round of Starspire root. Can't harvest the ones we've got in camp, they've been a little cranky lately. You'll have to go about four kilometers due west, towards the old Adamant wreck. Just watch them — if they start to sweat, you'll need to get under cover, means the acid rain is coming. I'll upload the specs to your Comm."

Seems like you're being partnered with somebody else for the run — another person looking perhaps about as equally haggard as you, and at least as equally voluntold. Hopefully you won't run into any difficulties — how hard can retrieving one plant be?

A few notes:
☆ Feel free to have random monster encounters along the way! Don’t forget to wait for approvals on bestiary submissions before incorporating them into threads.

☆ The plants are at a high elevation, so they will exist on rocky outcroppings along a cliff-face. The landscape here is mostly high desert, which means it is full of thin, calf-high grasses, scrub plants, and non arable land polluted by dense, alkaline soil and rocks. Be creative in how you get there!

☆ Somebody gets hurt? Here, chew this root! They said it was a painkiller, right? What's the worst that could happen? (People can get a little ... flirtatious, shall we say.)

☆ Or you could go one step further and try exploring portions of the Adamant! Remember, the ship itself was built to house seventy thousand people — it's the size of a city, and it cannot be adequately explored in an afternoon! If you'd like anything specific to come of this, or if you’d like to know specifics about the Adamant’s layout, please consider submitting a plot request!.

cleaningsolutions: (Default)

Marion "Mops" Adamopoulos | Janitors of the Post-Apocalypse | OTA

[personal profile] cleaningsolutions 2021-05-29 05:11 pm (UTC)(link)
the horror movie toplevel
[Either someone's asked you to bring a bucket of supplies or a bowl of gruel here, or you were drawn by the steam billowing out near the showers and the hissing of escaping pressure; regardless, there's a lot of effort going on here.

While the shower system was being installed, someone had confused the measurement of the full diameter of a pipe and the diameter of the pipe's insides. Consequently there are a few places where the plumbing is held together with layer on layer of thick, dripping tape. The persistent warmth and damp have let some kind of rustlike lichen bristle off of various surfaces where you don't want creatively placed bristles. Mops is working on getting these joins properly replaced and has diverted most of the flow so she can actually do it.

She seems to loom abruptly out of a cloud of too-hot-to-be-comfortable steam. If Mops had been a classic human she would have been bright pink from this heat, with eyes reddened by the irritating droplets. Since her blood is black, she's gone an unsettling dark gray instead, and the whites of her eyes are much darker than the odd shining blue of her irises. Her skin is wet, her graying hair soaked, and water forms running beads over her scuffed uniform.]


You shouldn't be here. It's hot, you could pass out.

the big noisy mess toplevel
[As you're passing through the camp, you might see a big gray-tinged woman protecting her head with her arm as a major jury-rigged shelving unit she's trying to secure suffers a long overdue catastrophic failure. Shelves in different sizes and colors cascade and go sliding across the floor, canisters and little boxes tumbling and rolling out with vigor, various of them glancing off her. If they slide enough to ram into your ankles that could bruise, and the footing has gone treacherous. The shelf's sides topple and the large, heavy headboard seems to hesitate before tipping over, slow at first and then very quickly. She catches it with a loud smack of metal and plastic on flesh.

Calmly, with only a moderate amount of strained patience in her tone, Mops says something that technically translates fine but without the cultural context sounds a little off.]


...tentacle incest. This is why you don't just use glue to build furniture.

[More loudly, as she leans the headboard against the wall:]

Anyone got hit by that?

the somber toplevel
[The memorial wall displays some remnant of everyone who's died on this planet, whether it's as plain as the letters of their name or a much-worn personal shrine with pictures and fresh flowers. There are thousands of names, far too many for any one visit to see them all, but Mops is giving it a try, making her slow way down the wall, sometimes stretching out an outsized hand to touch the carvings as she goes. Her face is sad and wondering. Eventually her AI, Doc, tells her Take a break, you're getting overwhelmed. They're not going anywhere, sir.

She finds a place to sit down, a wax-spattered bench where mourners come with candles, and wipes at tears. Mops is mostly addressing herself and Doc, but she does say it out loud, where anyone could hear and respond.]


Can you imagine this many people, alive?

wildcard
[Mops is a tall, stocky, gray-tinged woman who has a suggestion of undeath to her, though she's very much a living person. She can mostly be found around camp, taking quickly to Sanitation with a minor side of Engineering, and being fascinated with people. Mops is playing it cool but definitely regards red-blooded humans and humanlike people in a bit of an odd way, with a kind of disbelieving, anxious for them awe.]
neversmall: (Default)

big noisy messy toplevel

[personal profile] neversmall 2021-05-31 01:58 am (UTC)(link)
[ Nina was on her way to the gymnasium, minding her own business (sort of), when a shelving unit collapses nearby. She wasn't expecting anything like that to happen and for a moment goes stock-still, her hands coming together in what could be considered shock.

Then she turns toward the sound, moving on her way to begin picking up rolling objects... ]


No, it's fine - I was far enough away. Are you all right? [ She seems... a little gray. ] And did you just say tentacle incest?
cleaningsolutions: (I think I’m both)

[personal profile] cleaningsolutions 2021-05-31 02:16 am (UTC)(link)
Watch where you step.

[Can natural-born humans get seriously injured from tripping? She really doesn't know. Mops flexes the hand that caught most of the weight, testing its motion and reactiveness and feeling it with her other hand, trying to gauge if there's been any degree of injury. No bones are out of place. In her ear her personal AI, Doc, looks for changes in her heart rate and blood flow and makes an assessment.]

Might be a bruise, that's all. And maybe my dignity, but [She flashes a smile; her teeth are strange.] That heals quickly. And yes, it's a Krakau expression. Funny the things you don't know you're picking up, huh?
neversmall: (004)

[personal profile] neversmall 2021-05-31 02:42 am (UTC)(link)
Her teeth are strange and her heartbeat is... different. This place is full of surprises. Nina bends to pick up a few more things - though where she's going to put them down is anyone's guess.

Language can be like that - that's what Krakau is, another language?

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pawper: (here comes the donut-ham-hamburger)

horror movie toplevel

[personal profile] pawper 2021-05-31 09:16 am (UTC)(link)
[Gruel patrol, Lys can do. Had honestly jumped at the chance, pleased out of all proportion by the idea of delivering a meal to hungry workers; it wasn't the same thing as preparing the food herself, no, but still a useful and valuable task. Or maybe just one that somebody had to take care of. So off Lys scurries with a friendly smile firmly attached, passing out bowls to various sanitation workers until only one remains.

Cue Mops suddenly leaning out of the hot, humid steam like a slasher villain in a horror flick, the final bowl of gruel abruptly flung into the air as Lys startles.]


Wah—!

[What cuts through her confusion-fear-surprise isn't any kind of humbling realization about Mops as a person, but rather the split-second understanding that the bowl of gruel is still airborne and falling fast. Tearing her stunned gaze away from that unsettling gray skin and those strange eyes, Lys frantically twists around and manages to catch it, tilting the bowl to save the gruel.]

Oh geez, oh crap, oh geez...!
cleaningsolutions: (about if optimism is incompatible with r)

[personal profile] cleaningsolutions 2021-05-31 07:10 pm (UTC)(link)
[The boiled rice-based glop wobbles energetically in response to this treatment. Mops has not surged forwards to help. She wipes her face with the back of her hand, which doesn't help a whole lot, and makes sure to soften her voice.]

I'll be done before too long. You can leave it here - thank you for thinking of me.

[This is hardly a good place to leave food so it doesn't get contaminated by something, but for Mops it doesn't matter a whole lot. She'll want to water it down so it's easier to syringe into her stomach anyway.]
pawper: (only ate one bowl of pretzel dogs)

[personal profile] pawper 2021-05-31 08:53 pm (UTC)(link)
N-No, that's...I mean...

[She's talking before she knows what she's saying, stupid words climbing out of her stupid throat and arranging themselves into a stupid non-sentence. It's not that she's scared; fear implied she had a vested interest in her own survival. It's just such a shock, you know? Fur and rippling muscles and a bushy tail would've been infinitely more familiar, if absolutely less welcome.

She grips the bowl just a little more tightly, using it as an anchor even as she holds it out for Mops to take.]


I-It's no problem! You're helping to fix the pipes and stuff, so...of course we're gonna make sure you get something to eat.

[She's still staring. Her mother had told her that staring was rude and not to do it, but how is she supposed to stop? Maybe a hesitant smile will help soften the effect. Or maybe it'll make everything worse!]

And I mean...you should finish it while it's hot, right? B-But if you want something else, I can see what they have?

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brosbeforeprose: (ordinary world)

[personal profile] brosbeforeprose 2021-06-06 12:47 pm (UTC)(link)
[Varric's already leaping in to catch whatever he can out of sheer instinct - and hisses in pain as a canister of something hits his lower leg. Mops, though - it's Mops, he recognises her from their trip to the caves - catches the main structure deftly, and Varric hastily shoves some boxes out of the way of anybody passing by.]

"Tentacle incest"? I need to add that to my repertoire.
cleaningsolutions: (I think I’m both)

[personal profile] cleaningsolutions 2021-06-06 02:00 pm (UTC)(link)
Hah. Sounds better in Liktok. "Tentacle incest" just doesn't have the punch of-

[Mops grunts as she wrestles the body of the shelving unit back upright. It stands, but with a sullen lean that suggests this state won't last long. Having heard the call of the floor, it means to answer it.]

- the way you can air-bite the last click. It's satisfying. Hi, Varric.
brosbeforeprose: (under pressure)

[personal profile] brosbeforeprose 2021-06-07 09:52 pm (UTC)(link)
I'm afraid I'm not hearing the most satisfying parts of it. I'm not sure how we're all hearing the same tongue, but it's bloody convenient.

[And makes him appreciate all the more that the common tongue is so widely spoken throughout Thedas. He's becoming aware that there's a wide variety of languages being spoken here, apparently flattened into one for all their benefit.]

Hello, Mopsy. [The nicknaming work was clearly done for him long ago, why mess with it more than necessary?]

Need a second pair of hands? Or someone to reach the low shelves, maybe.

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sorry about the delay

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usurpurr: ([s5] 61)

[personal profile] usurpurr 2021-05-30 12:34 am (UTC)(link)
1. - Basecamp (Bunks)

[You'd think that, having spent most of her life sleeping in shared barracks, Catra would be used to them. That maybe she'd find the presence of so many other people comforting, or be reassured by the camaraderie of shared quarters.

But all she feels, as another loud snore rings in her ears, is that she is this close to snapping. She'd gotten used to the peace and quiet of her private room, and having the space to spread out across her bed as she saw fit. This hammock clings too tightly around her, restricts the agitated lashing of her tail, and even as graceful as she is, she still has trouble clambering out of it when her allocated sleeping shift is over. Not to mention the fact that it stinks. There is something that is just so gross about laying in the same cocoon as what smells like dozens of other people before her.

The snoring quiets down just long enough for the hard press of her hands against her ears to relax, and just as Catra thinks she might actually start to doze off -- it starts again, with a vengeance. She groans, loud and frustrated, and sits up in her wobbling hammock to glare in the direction of the offender.]


You've got to be kidding me. [She's not keeping her voice down at all, or hiding her aggravation. She can't be the only one kept awake by this, can she?]


2. - Basecamp (Outside)

[The barracks suck, but that's fine. Catra's found somewhere where she can nap any time she wants. (Which isn't that often. By the time the first week's out, there are tired lines under her eyes; easily explained away by the difficulty of adjusting to a communal sleeping space.)

The first time she does it, she can hear the alarm of the crew who watch her. Scaling up the side of the massive dragon isn't an easy task, and her muscles are burning by the time she makes it to the top - but as Catra's chest heaves with exertion, something of a spark returns to her eyes. The view is incredible from the height she's scaled to; the puffs of her breath mist in the chilled air, and she doesn't even care as she stares out at the horizon, drinking it in. Her claws ache, her heart's hammering, and adrenaline's a familiar friend surging through her body. Anybody who's capable of following her up that high will find Catra at her most congenial up there, in those moments when she's still riding that thrill.

It quickly becomes her go-to spot, and while the crew doesn't stop side-eyeing her for it, they eventually stop gasping and yelling whenever she makes her way up or down. (She's not cautious about either; leaping and scrabbling almost as much as she slides, and never once feeling like she might fall.)

At any given point, that's where she'll be: up on top of the Leviathan, oblivious to the crew gently freaking out below her.]



3. - Go Fetch

[There are downsides to having established herself as a confident climber, Catra learns as soon as this chore's dumped on her. She's not worried about encountering anything along the way to the cliffs (please, the wildlife should be running from her) -- but if the way she keeps glancing suspiciously at the sky is any indication, she is worried about the acid rain.

(Maybe if she ever actually put shoes on, she'd have less to worry about re: puddles and splashback. But she hasn't, so that's on her.)]


Can't you move any faster? [She's a fast traveller, and convinced that she could have done this all on her own; so any small stop or setback will have her ears turning down as her patience wanes. And yet, she's sticking with her buddy, keeping within a few paces no matter how slow or distracted they are. That's... teamwork?]


Wildcard

[After a few days of being irritable and close-guarded, Catra starts wearing someone else's red jacket. It hides the black, wing-like symbols emblazoned on the back and chest of her white jumpsuit, and she's in a slightly more amenable mood after acquiring it.

Having established a reputation for herself among the Adamant's crew as being uncooperative and unreasonable, it's no surprise that they treat her a little stiffly. She did, after all, refuse point blank to participate in any rescues, and gave them a hell of a time during her interrogation and medical exam - and it's only after she sorts out some issues and starts wearing that jacket that she begins to contribute to the camp's efforts at all.

At the end of the day, despite how much she hates being here, she does know that it takes everyone pulling their weight to move an army. So when a harried teenager drags her in to the Theatre as a distraction for the crying toddlers, Catra fights back the urge to hiss at the small hands that reach in fascination for her bristling tail. And when an exhausted worker slaps a shovel unceremoniously into her hands, she rolls her eyes and takes over their digging of the latrines. It's a far cry from the efforts of leadership, and she feels like a scolded cadet sulking through her squad's punishments, but for now Catra doesn't argue too much about the grunt work she's being assigned.

...She just bitches the whole time she's doing it.]
Edited 2021-05-30 01:03 (UTC)
spalten: (pic#14544816)

1

[personal profile] spalten 2021-05-30 08:19 pm (UTC)(link)
[ he can't sleep.

he's been staring at the back of his eyelids for so long that vidar thinks, surely it must've been hours since he did that, but no. it's not even. time moves slow when the body is unfamiliar with its surroundings and every single noise and smell is unwelcome. furthermore, he can't actually say that he's had worse than this, because his rank and privilege as a bauduin prevented him from enjoying the gentle swaying of a hammock.

that, and he's just way too tall for this thing and he's terrified of it breaking and having him suffer an embarrassing fall.

so he completely understands the frustration. he finally gives up on closing his eyes with a sigh when he hears her. ]


... they're tired, it's our first day in.

Give it a few more weeks.
pawper: (wanna go halfsies on a Snickers??)

go fetch

[personal profile] pawper 2021-05-31 10:29 am (UTC)(link)
[Stealing her own glance up at the skies, Lys bites the inside of her cheek and forces (most of) the anxiety from her own expression, jogging at a rapid clip to close the distance—the lanky, bounding labrador to Catra's...cat.]

Oh, sure! Sorry about that.

[Distracted is the right word for it: she'd been swiping handfuls of random plants, sometimes needing to hack away with her hunting knife, binding them with small ribbons of dental floss (because that's normal) before carefully pocketing each bundle.]

Thanks for waiting up!
brosbeforeprose: (the great pretender)

Varric

[personal profile] brosbeforeprose 2021-06-06 12:23 pm (UTC)(link)
the theatre, darling

Varric neither expected nor asked to be drawn into artsy shit. But storytelling is artsy shit, I hear you say. Well, yes, but not the kind where people fart around acting it all out. Varric gets enough drama, fiction and falsehoods in his personal life, he doesn't need to add theatre to it.

Not that he can blame anybody here for needing to escape for a while.

He was asked to paint a nice banner for some play, which he absolutely is going to do, but if you pass by him, you'll notice by the he's been practising his calligraphy for this on various scraps of wood, plastic, whatever he can find. Beautiful curving letters, swirling around one another in elegant lines, imposing block capitals, a slightly more classic script of the kind of you might see in old medieval manuscripts.

It's all swear words.

Quite creative ones, too.

missing persons

Several days after arrival, Varric just about knows his way around - knows who to butter up at the mess to get a little less slop, a little more protein; has thought long and hard about whether a joint is worth janitorial work (the answer is no, but the head janitor has puppy dog eyes and reminds him of Merrill, damn her); has been by the engineering area and taken some notes on concepts he knows nothing about to read up on and come up with questions later. All that stuff.

But now he's getting to the important things: he's seen the new ragtag bunch of misfits in camp wandering around with their old stuff, when from what he saw, everyone came in with just the clothes on their backs. Varric may keep his expectations low, but his hopes are always high.

Therefore, you can see him one day in an area with a lot of foot traffic, nailing a bit of fabric to a flimsy wall that may not take that kind of violence being done to it. The fabric has painted on it in clear, elegant writing:

MISSING: repeating crossbow
Return to Varric Tethras if found
Reward?


A question mark can do a lot of heavy lifting in a sentence. Or just after a word.

sweet dreams are made of this

Varric's not even aware to begin with that he is dreaming. Dwarves don't dream. Dreams come from the Fade, and although Varric has been pushed into the Fade physically, he doesn't feel it, much less when he sleeps.

But, even fully convinced he's awake, underground in what looks like some kind of old underground lake you might find outside the ancestral home of the dwarves, he can't bring himself to mind. This place is peaceful. It's as warm and comfortable as if a cozy hearth is crackling next to him. And he can't even bring himself to be afraid when the creature emerges. He bloody should be. But he welcomes it like an old friend.

a. together in the deep

He takes far too long to notice anybody's here with him. But he does. Eventually. He turns to look at them, a faint smile on his face.

"Have you ever seen anything like it?"

b. the morning after

The next morning is just as peaceful as the night - just a bit colder and damper. And as Varric heads out on a walk through camp on his new usual routine of talking to the locals and finding out what's going on, his usual half-open shirt shows not only his lucious chest hair, but also a faint lilac mark.

"My eyes are up here," he says, mock-offended, to the first person he sees staring at it.
spalten: (pic#14899500)

missing persons

[personal profile] spalten 2021-06-06 07:53 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, that's an unfortunate thing to get lost.

"Have you tried their security team? I know they're not the friendliest lot, but something that can be potentially dangerous as that, if found, might've been confiscated."

And considering the lack of trust extended to the new 'hatchlings', he can see this playing out just like that, if it were the case that they'd taken it to begin with.
brosbeforeprose: (radio gaga)

[personal profile] brosbeforeprose 2021-06-07 10:12 pm (UTC)(link)
"If they have, they're keeping quiet about it. But it looks like they're keeping quiet about almost everything."

He steps back to admire his handiwork; it's...fine. The fence is wobbling a bit, complaining about Varric's mistreatment.

"A few years back a boatful of-- men from another land washed up shipwrecked in my city, Kirkwall." He was about to say Qunari, but he's adapting to his audience. "Without a ship, they were stuck in Kirkwall until their own people could collect them, so the city gave them their own little compound and sealed it off completely.

"I suppose we should be grateful we're being treated better than the Qunari."

He meets his companion's eye a little grimly. "For the moment."
spalten: (pic#14544816)

[personal profile] spalten 2021-06-11 02:06 pm (UTC)(link)
"Well, we've just arrived. They need time to get used to our presence, and us to them - it's my understanding that nobody amongst us 'hatchlings' chose to be here anyway. I certainly didn't."

A lot depends on their ability to get along with the locals, an effort Vidar finds annoying. He tries not to think about it too much - easy way to burn out by being homesick, of all things.

"If you need help looking for it around camp, I'd be glad to accompany you. I'm getting bored of playing 20 questions with everyone anyway."

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neversmall: (Default)

theater

[personal profile] neversmall 2021-06-10 01:20 am (UTC)(link)
"Saints," says a clearly amused voice over his shoulder. Yes, Nina is admiring his handiwork. "Are you trying to get thrown out?"
brosbeforeprose: (a view to a kill)

[personal profile] brosbeforeprose 2021-06-11 07:26 pm (UTC)(link)
"Heavens, no!" he says with a grin. "The children are busy being entertained by the dulcet tones of that guy over there."

That guy over there is so offkey it's impossible to tell what he's trying to sing. The kids are mostly around there caterwauling along with him, partly out of a sheer excess of energy and partly childish mocking.

"Want to join in?" He scrabbles around in the scraps for a spare brush. "It's surprisingly cathartic."
neversmall: (Default)

[personal profile] neversmall 2021-06-11 08:34 pm (UTC)(link)
...well, as long as they're not going to be thrown out, Nina does have a few things she'd like to curse about, actually.

"You'll put my penmanship to shame," she warns, but reaches out for the spare brush.

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trassel: (11.)

morning after, b.

[personal profile] trassel 2021-06-10 12:29 pm (UTC)(link)
'I am aware,' is the bland, almost amiable answer. Matthias is not staring — okay, a little, because this is his first dwarf. But not staring, good Fjerdan boys certainly do not stare. He obliges easily enough, meeting Varric's eyes. 'So you also met the spirit?'
Edited (i can type omg) 2021-06-10 12:30 (UTC)
brosbeforeprose: (bohemian rhapsody)

[personal profile] brosbeforeprose 2021-06-11 08:15 pm (UTC)(link)
Not a banterer. Varric sees how it is.

But he flashes a grin as they lock eyes anyway, just to show he wasn't really offended. Look all you like, ser.

"The..." Ah. "I did. Same underground lake? Nice, comfortable, full of warm and fuzzy feelings like we haven't been spirited away to another world to be a nuisance to the locals?"

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cicatrize: (pic#12603010)

jack benjamin | kings

[personal profile] cicatrize 2021-06-08 04:08 pm (UTC)(link)
Showers;
[ Who showers in three minutes? You can’t possibly scrub all the places you need to scrub, with the attention each deserves, in three minutes, that’s absurd. Or, so Jack believes. That’s what you call a military shower, and he knows well enough from warfront camps and trenches that 3 minutes does not a completely clean individual make. Or soldiers and war are just naturally foul, that’s a good possibility too.

Once he’d learned they’re living inside a rotting carcass, Jack couldn’t make it to the showers fast enough, and when someone started prodding him to finish up, the words ’make me’ came more like a compulsion than a real proposal. Luckily, they didn’t, just frowned aggressively and waited for the water to turn cold a moment later, souring Jack’s peaceful communion with cleanliness. ]


I don’t do sloppy seconds towels, sorry. [ blithely remarked as he snatches up the one towel he and his shower buddy were meant to share, clearly not actually that sorry. ]

Mess Hall;
[ in the mess hall, jack’s sat off in a corner all his own, not so much looking like the dejected kid with no friends as the aloof princess unwilling to share personal space with strangers.

A mug of coffee simmers a few inches below his chin, the metal flask he tugs from inside his jacket upended to pour something amber and alcoholic into the cup. Head seeming to be held up only but the fist his cheek is propped on, Jack doesn’t bother looking up from the cup he’s stirring when someone joins his table. ]


Seat’s taken. Mosey along, friend.

[ the seat is not taken, he’s just grouchy and anti-social right now. Feel free to completely ignore that and bother him anyway. ]

Theater / Childcare;
[ In another life, perhaps Jack’s ability to completely erase himself and portray a fabricated persona for the public might’ve been better used for the theatrical arts. He has no skill for engineering or medicine, and while he could work security, after witnessing the others attempt conversation with What’s-his-ass, any motivation for volunteering there was struck down.

Children are certainly not a demographic he’s used to or interested in associating with, but since he hasn’t yet heard that sanitation means free weed, this is where he’s ended up. Script in hand, 5 year old attempting to scale his right leg, Jack squints down at the words critically. ]
Who wrote this drivel?

[ The staff seem about as thrilled to deal with Jack and Jack is to deal with these kids. These kids, who are the only ones truly excited about his presence. He’s tall and grumpy and too prim, and that, of course, makes them want to bother and dishevel him all the more. They tug on his clothes, reach for his hair, grab at his hands and arms to lead him around. One spotted the silver flask Jack periodically sips from, reaching up towards it with grabby-hands.
Can I have it?
No.
Why?
Because I said so.
But why?
Because I’m an adult.
So?
So I’ve earned bodily autonomy and the privilege to own property, and you are just some breeder’s unleashed, glorified pet. Keep your filthy mitts to yourself. And blow your nose, for godsake, you look like a toddler.
A native childcare worker reminds Jack, he is a toddler, which earns an unimpressed snort and - ]
Doesn’t mean he has to advertise it.

[ Look, if Jack could be a toddler with the poise and disposition of a 50 year old ambassador, so can this brat. There’s a chance Jack Benjamin did not have a normal childhood, and it is possible it’s left him a little fucked up, okay? Someone save him from this fresh new hell. ]

Community Outreach - Synagogue;
[ if bitterness could be made manifest, the pointed stare Jack angles at the synagogue would be pouring out waves of it. He’s crossed time and space, traveled galaxies and dimensions away, and still, God follows him. There’s no escaping it, and tension runs all through his frame, muscles tight, jaw clenched, not enough whisky left in his flask. Someone pauses nearby, and his gaze shifts, looking over their profile a moment before addressing them - ]

Subscriber or tourist?

[ are you here to pray, or here to watch others and judge them? Guess which he is. ]

Wildcard;
[ toss me a fresh starter, if you like, or hit me up on plurk at [plurk.com profile] Wuzzafuzzle for plotting! ]

Edited 2021-06-08 16:22 (UTC)
brosbeforeprose: (i want it all)

childcare

[personal profile] brosbeforeprose 2021-06-09 11:09 am (UTC)(link)
You've got a way with words, Serah.

[Varric is nearby while this scene of theatrical carnage goes on, sipping what is sadly only water from a cup and watching with a grin. A child approaches him like clockwork to ask, why are you so short?, and Varric turns only to look the kid dead serious in the eye.]

I asked too many rude questions and Mother squashed me flat.

[This has the desired effect of the child giving a little yip and scampering off. Satisfied, Varris turns back to his fellow man who fully believes in destroying children verbally.]

I wrote that, by the way.

[It's to keep kids entertained for 25 seconds, he's not exactly at top form here!!!]
cicatrize: (pic#7757928)

don't mind me, late af

[personal profile] cicatrize 2021-06-30 02:28 pm (UTC)(link)
So I've been told.

[ jack drawls, as he works to dislodge a child from his thigh. begone, mini-human, he doesn't have any candy for you. as for the script, it's tossed to varric's lap as jack moves to find a seat next to him, waving off another kid with another probably rude question. ]

My condolences. You might consider a few revisions, and a cast over the age of 12 in majority.

[ it probably doesn't help that the play had to be kid-friendly, and jack finds very few things made to be kid-friendly that entertaining. kicking his feet up on the edge of the makeshift stage he'd just hopped down from, he does at least hold out the flask to varric. if they're suffering children together, they may as well get drunk together. ]

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