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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!.

usurpurr: ([s5] 40)

outreach:

[personal profile] usurpurr 2021-05-23 12:35 am (UTC)(link)
[Oh boy, isn't this the most uncomfortable requisition queue Catra's ever been a part of. It's no surprise to her that they're redistributing the uniforms and basics of the deceased (how else are they supposed to keep up with the sudden boom in demand); the awkward part comes from the kid who apparently didn't do a good enough job stashing anything they wanted to keep. If any cadet tried to argue about this in the Horde, they'd be smacked with months of latrine duty faster than they could blink.

She's resolved to ignore it - it's not her job to be disciplining anyone - but she's definitely judging as she accepts her own pack and makes to leave. No sooner has she turned away, though, that the glow of a blue light catches her eye -- and she turns back just in time to catch the kid backing off with an identical shirt clutched in their hands. Everyone else looks too taken aback to speak -- so with a noise of impatience, Catra takes it upon herself to ask the question that nobody else wants to.]


What was that? [It's more of a demand than a query -- she's not the most polite person in the base.]
spalten: (pic#14544676)

[personal profile] spalten 2021-05-23 12:40 am (UTC)(link)
Sounds to him like good old fashioned sabotage, though he doesn't have all the facts and won't, not in the near future. He's familiar with such politics, considering what he was, who he was before - Gjallarhorn has embedded much of it in his bloodline.

Exactly what has already been established - a ship failed to answer a distress call. Deliberately or otherwise matters little for now. The fact is that it was meant for a destination and had never reached it.

Why did you all leave to begin with?
He tilts his head in thought. Three years is a long time to be waiting here, and the way you've set up in this planet, it doesn't seem like you're in a hurry to leave.
unclesam: ((79))

[personal profile] unclesam 2021-05-23 12:42 am (UTC)(link)
No excuses, old man.

[ Oh what's that? Dodging the earlier part of the statement, avoiding the complicated layers of that for a moment? But there's a flicker of something in Sam's eyes briefly. He takes those words and keeps them to process, doesn't reject them outright.

Even if the very idea feels wrong in a different way than it has in months. Because it was never about not feeling worthy of taking what was Steve's, it was about the larger picture. Here and now? It becomes a smaller thing. It becomes the feeling of borrowing another person's identity.

Sam catches the shield on his left and wipes some sweat off his brow with his right. He's been going at it for a while, but he's not about to slack. There's work to be put in. ]


No going easy on my either.

[ He tosses the shield back at an angle, lets it bounce off one of the pillars on the obstacle course, satisfied that it's on course right back to Steve. ]

How you holding up?
unclesam: ((131))

[personal profile] unclesam 2021-05-23 01:07 am (UTC)(link)
[ The soft whirr of mechanics isn't a real response to the question, but it is accompanied by another sound, an electronic beep that sounds almost like a chirping bird. A small black half-sphere on Redwing's underside moves - Yennefer will not recognize this for a camera, but it does mean Sam's taking a look from his current location, puzzled as to why Redwing appears to be trapped.

The blue flare of the thrusters burns brighter for a moment as Redwing tries to shoot off into the distance, then dims again as the drone lets itself hover.

There's another chirp. It's just some internal processing, really, but maybe it sounds a little put upon. Anything can have a personality if you try hard enough.

Yennefer is free to inspect the drone for now, as Sam course corrects his own flight to make his way over - he'll be arriving in a tick. If she tries to touch it, Redwing will fire his little grappling hook at a nearby wall and attempt to pull itself away from her, like a skittish animal. If she doesn't reach to touch, it just stays hovering, its camera observing her movement. ]
fossils: (pic#14195591)

[personal profile] fossils 2021-05-23 01:24 am (UTC)(link)
[ Spent much time in deserts? gets a half nod as he shoulders his own pack. The suit's not as breathable as it could be, but on an unknown planet he'll take the discomfort for the extra armor. ]

Can't hurt to ask around. [ About the tea. Might surprise him. These folks've been here for three years, more than likely that someone's found an alternative amongst all the plant life. ]

Military?

[ He asks strides forward, heading toward the rock outcropping in the near distance. Doesn't exactly strike him as a soldier, but with all the different places they come from it doesn't hurt to ask. ]
unclesam: ((63))

[personal profile] unclesam 2021-05-23 01:33 am (UTC)(link)
[ Credit where credit is due, and Sam can't help but grin a little at the way she acknowledges the impressiveness of her own actions. He drops his offered arms when it becomes clear she doesn't need to - or want to - lean on him. Also something he can respect.

Saints gets a slight quirk of his brows, a question he doesn't bother putting into words right now. He's stopped bothering to assume people are from a world like the one he knows - kinda difficult to hold onto that egocentric notion when you fight aliens alongside people from completely different solar systems anyway. ]


Sam Wilson. Pleasure to meet you. I hear you on the food. Best I can do you is get you some of that delightful protein sludge. The grub here ain't exactly a delight, huh?

[ What he does offer her is a canteen of water, though. ]
mylawn: (pic#12190501)

[personal profile] mylawn 2021-05-23 01:46 am (UTC)(link)
I figure I can go out there and get myself killed if I want to.

[Not that he's actually going to do that, but he owns his stupid decisions--he just needs to make sure he's exhausting all options before he resigns himself to being stuck here under the thumb of the locals. They've been surprisingly accommodating so far, but he's always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Who knows when they'll decide that these new arrivals are a drain on their resources, and need to be cast out?

Paranoid, maybe. But he needs to prepare for all possibilities.
]

You're out here, same as me.

[He says that with a little nod of acknowledgement. She wouldn't be out here if she wasn't curious about something.]
unclesam: ((83))

[personal profile] unclesam 2021-05-23 01:48 am (UTC)(link)
I mean, you're the one with the gun and the go-getter attitude, man.

[ Sam's tone is light, despite that observation. He doesn't know this guy and what he's capable of, but well. Guy's got a gun and a death wish, Sam's got a vibranium shield and wings, tomayto, tomahto. ​]

Want backup?

[ Maybe the dude is acid resistant. And if he isn't, Sam can always airlift him out of the rain and pull his best 'I ain't mad, just disappointed' face while patching him up. ]
cleaningsolutions: (Default)

[personal profile] cleaningsolutions 2021-05-23 01:51 am (UTC)(link)
Her mind is racing. The Captain's arms and hands are so much more delicate than what she's used to, each finger ending in a smooth scale. Were those ever a feral's grasping arms? It would take so much work and risk so much to change them for what would ultimately be mostly cosmetic reasons. Are they prosthetics? Why would this many people have double prosthetic arms and hands?

And they have so clearly fallen on hard times, which she knows she will have to address, and do they really have a human Captain? Doc isn't here to help her sort out what to focus on and she's stuck on what the depths these people are. "Who made you? They must have wanted you to be as much like our ancestors as possible, but - you can't actually be - you're speaking Human. It's made from human languages but that was a triple click. The Krakau built that in."
trassel: (23.)

[personal profile] trassel 2021-05-23 01:53 am (UTC)(link)
Understood.

[ His guard is so rarely down. He doubts the 76's is, either, but this is a strange new world. The rats had been disgusting enough — beasts beyond nightmares. Who knows what other crazy things lurk out there, waiting? ]

[ After a short while, he pipes up, ]

If we'll be near the crashed ship, there may be time to look inside.
fortyforged: (huh)

[personal profile] fortyforged 2021-05-23 02:00 am (UTC)(link)
The Exo sits. Pauses. "Banshee," he says, as though having to double check with himself on that.
trassel: (11.)

[personal profile] trassel 2021-05-23 02:01 am (UTC)(link)
[ Seeing her, he sits up a little straighter. Her laughter washes over him; Matthias' gaze on her is steady, but curious. Alina's power is terrible to him. Alina herself is not — these two things interlock forcefully — they don't make sense to him to look at. ]

[ But he will solve the mystery. ]

I am recruiting, [ says Matthias, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. ] This is the place for it.
unclesam: ((6))

[personal profile] unclesam 2021-05-23 02:02 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's too tempting. Mostly, Sam strays closer because the white wolf catches his eyes, and after a bit of an internal debate - Is it a wolf? Is a dog? Does it matter? - he decides to abuse the newly given smartwatch to mess with one Bucky Barnes for his own amusement.

He does consider the question though, arms lightly crossed, body language relaxed. ]


More of a fisher. Got ways to track, though. They tell you of anything local that's safe to hunt and eat?
cryptoherpetology: (045)

Dreaming

[personal profile] cryptoherpetology 2021-05-23 02:09 am (UTC)(link)
[ Alex can't help but watch the entire interaction between Nate and the creature in quiet, stunned awe. Possibly literally stunned on some level, since he doesn't so much find that he can't move as that he doesn't feel any need to.

He's aware of the lack of alarm he's feeling, and idly wonders if that's a pheremonal thing or a telepathic effect. Fascinating either way. He watches the way it bows, feeling like that looks familiar- has he had this dream himself since he got here? It feels familiar... ]


...I think that might have been what it was asking you. [ Don't presume sentience just from a bow, Alex he has to inwardly tell himself. Still, something about its' posture, its movements- they'd seemed more than just the instinctive movements of a an animal without real thought behind its actions. ]
fossils: (pic#14839567)

[personal profile] fossils 2021-05-23 02:12 am (UTC)(link)
[ The skype calls from Wakanda had last shown him a Bucky that appeared calm, somewhat at peace. Maybe some of that was a show for his benefit, not wanting him to worry when their conversations could be few and far between, but he doubted that all of it was. Between that and the news that Shuri'd gotten the words out of his head —

It's a sharp contrast to the current picture. Throws him more than he's able to reconcile in the moment as it's all exploding out of him. Eyes widen and narrow again when his hand beats against his chest, the unhinged edge of his tone.

He shores himself up, shoulders tense and his voice imploring: ]


All I know is you weren't gonna find the answer in that shield, Buck.

[ No matter who was holding it.

You're not gonna find that answer from me.

And it feels like a knife in his chest that he can't give it to him, that all he's been accomplishing by talking is moving the goal posts all around the field. That even if he could manage to explain with their limited emotional vocabulary what you've always meant to him, it won't mean shit in the face of the larger question.

(that he left you behind to struggle with it)

He closes his eyes. ]


I'm sorry.

[ Not hard or sharp or half-shouted this time. Hands held loose at his sides.

He doesn't know what else to say anymore. ]
trassel: (08.)

[personal profile] trassel 2021-05-23 02:13 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's certainly not a dog. Trassel is a wolf almost the size of a bear, a jagged scar down its right eye. As Sam approaches, Trass' eyes open, and blink at him. His tail flicks. ]

[ Matthias nods to Sam. His gaze flicks over him in quick assessment; Zemeni, the light-loose posture doing a lot to shift Matthias out of his usual grave demeanour. (Maybe about 5% out of it.) ]

I've been asking. It seems there are more dangerous creatures around here. [ Remember the rats? Matthias sure does; zero stars on Alien Yelp, not doing that again in a hurry. ] At the very least, we need to know more about the terrain, on our own time. If we're able to bring back food and supplies, it would do a lot of good.
cryptoherpetology: (023)

Outreach

[personal profile] cryptoherpetology 2021-05-23 02:30 am (UTC)(link)
[ Alex had been just a few steps behind the other man, instinct to settle conflict ingrained in him deeply enough to be reflexive. And then his expressions make a quick journey through confusion, to impressed, then curious, with some stuttering back and forth between those last two, like his brain can't settle on just one way to feel about this. ]

I'm sorry. Is it rude to ask about that where you're from? Because I... really, really want to ask about that. [ Probably more than one thing, even. One can almost see the questions percolating. ]
neversmall: (128)

[personal profile] neversmall 2021-05-23 02:34 am (UTC)(link)
Hmm? [ Nina shifts her attention politely in Alina's general direction, looking forward without looking. Communal showers are not ideal, but Nina is practical. Three minutes is not a long time to luxuriate in the shower, but it is enough time to get clean if you apply yourself. Nina is applying herself.

The night's rest seems a long way away, but Alina's words stir up a memory. ]


What kind of dreams?
morozova: [ used with permission ] (pic#14854919)

01 - ish

[personal profile] morozova 2021-05-23 02:37 am (UTC)(link)
I could be wrong, ( lightly enough as he catches sight of her, the yellow smear of paint still wet on the side of her face and the giggling child nowhere to be seen, ) but I believe paint is generally intended for a canvas.

Not that yellow isn't your color, of course. ( the shade would seem lurid on anyone else, he thinks ㅡ too warm and bright to sit comfortably unless the person didn't care to seem garish. perhaps he should have considered the gold ketfa, idea. except that that had never really been about ensuring she would be eye-catching in that particular way. )
freightcars: (Aɴᴅ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ᴅᴇsᴘᴀɪʀ)

[personal profile] freightcars 2021-05-23 02:39 am (UTC)(link)
( Steve's the second person in so many days to tell him his answers aren't in that shield, and— damn it, he knows. At least, part of him knows. His higher brain knows. He tells himself he knows, but admittedly there's a growing and gnawing disappointment still that Sam having it wasn't enough.

The words are gone from his head, yes.
He found some peace in Wakanda, yes.
But as it turns out, just because he can't be flipped like a switch and accidentally murder the people around him any more doesn't mean his psychological issues are solved. It doesn't make him feel any better for what he did. It doesn't fix decades of programming, being rewritten, being displaced, losing everybody — losing Steve. He might not be a murderer anymore, but he still feels lost.

He still needs--
Something.

Yelling didn't help, either. This explosion, snarling at Steve, letting off some steam by losing control like this didn't help. He just feels a piercing guilt rapidly replacing the explosive heat, a bitter curl of self-loathing and frustration, a gaping wound.

This is exactly what he didn't want to do.

He's still angry over losing his best friend.
He's angry at himself for not being happy for Steve like he should be, because in his mind a good friend wouldn't feel a second of resentment that the person they love managed to find their peace.
It feels unfair that he's not allowed to just be pissed.
It feels unfair that he's doing everything he can to fix what he did wrong and he doesn't feel any better.
He feels guilty for being an asshole to Sam.
He feels frustrated that Sam's answer for him — be of service — isn't even something he can do, which means he can't do anything, which means he's just stuck feeling this guilt with no path to resolution.
He feels lonely and untethered, caught some place in between letting Steve go and finding that family Sam says he's going to — my nephews adore you — must be nice, to feel that. Wishes he had it now.
He hates himself, and this, and you, and god damn everything.

He turns his back to Steve so he can dig his thumb and forefinger into his eyelids, gone wet and red, and he hates that too.

Steve called him a good friend the other day and he said I know, but he doesn't feel like it now. The plates in his left arm twitch and realign, but it hangs heavy at his side as he slowly massages his eyes.
)

I wanna be happy for you.

( He says finally, hoarse, low. )

I do. I am. But you're the only—

( He stops. Chews his cheek. Reels himself in, edits and re-edits and re-edits his words. )

You were the only goddamn person alive that saw any good left in me. You took everything with you when you went back, except for that stupid shield. You're not allowed to be disappointed in me for tryin' to look out for it.

( Protectiveness is one of the few remaining definitions he has for himself that has lasted from the very beginning, he doesn't have a better outlet for it now.

Sam's slowly becoming the new target for it, but he's not there yet.
)
pawper: (a brand of potato chips called vitamins)

lys skovgaard | original

[personal profile] pawper 2021-05-23 02:41 am (UTC)(link)

1) hatching ⟴ a most un-eggcellent adventure

[Locked up and kept under guard? It's happened before. Hostile natives? She's dealt with her share of those. Waking up somewhere completely different? Sometimes there was no avoiding it. But clawing her way out of a giant egg, trying to breathe through a thick layer of goop...that's a new one.

Despite everything, Lys doesn't allow herself to panic. While being thrown into a cell without her gear or trusted backup of any kind was never good, so far nobody was acting like they knew what she really was. Otherwise, Lys reasons, they would have already tried to kill her—or at least see that she was dragged away for a "proper" interrogation. Or experimentation. Or interrogation and then experimentation. Since none of that has happened (yet), Lys endures her strange new clothes and the painful lack of her sword, ring and hunting knife without a fuss, licking electric-blue egg goop from her hands as she sits quietly near the bars of the holding cell—the closest spot that nobody else seems to want, curled up in an earnest bid to make herself seem smaller than her six feet, two inches. Space was a premium in confined quarters like these; the last thing anybody needed while they were all trapped, confused and gooey was some stranger clumsily flailing their noodly limbs around.

She keeps to the same spot after every shower and bathroom break, notably hoarding her starchy "rations" instead of eating them. When not sparing a concerned glance or encouraging word for her fellow detainees, she tries to engage the locals in conversation whenever they gather outside the cells: speaking softly, smiling gently, answering their questions as though they had every right to ask them. As though she wasn't their prisoner, trapped on an alien world with no idea of what tomorrow might bring. As far as making herself seem like less of a potential threat, the docile compliance seems to be working—right up until she sticks a hand through the bars to better wave at a small child.

His reaction? A nervous squeak and wide eyes as he hurriedly backs up several steps, ducking behind one of the security officers. Lys promptly deflates, looking disheartened for the first time in nearly three days.]


...didn't think I looked that scary.


2) explore the basecamp ⟴ need more carbs

[Accustomed to navigating through a bustling, jostling crowd, Lys makes it to one of the communal tables with both plate and coffee intact, sliding easily into the nearest empty seat. What's difficult is finding the silver lining in the meal itself; she hasn't seen rations this poor in a long time. She won't complain, not when there was still something for everyone to eat, but it makes faking calm about the whole situation all the harder. No wonder the natives look stressed and underfed; that's exactly what they are.

Chin in hand, she controls the urge to bolt down the food—pitiful and unappetizing though it is—instead glancing over at the unlucky soul she's decided to sit next to.]


I was gonna ask if you wanted to trade, but it looks like everyone's got pretty much the same thing.

[Her stomach takes that opportunity to rumble very loudly. Pretending not to notice, Lys vents a sigh, a familiar tension gathering in her narrow shoulders.]

...maybe they'll let us help with supplies. There's gotta be all kinds of weird plants and animals out there that we could eat.


3) community outreach ⟴ regifting faux pas

[Someone else from her guild might have entertained the thought of keeping up appearances even now—of cleaving to the old lie that they were simple monks devoted to unusual but harmless religious tenets. To that end, perhaps they would have already started building their own little shrine inside one of the many houses of worship. Lys, however, gives those places a wide berth once she realizes their purpose, returning instead to the mess hall just in time to accept a package from the volunteers, exchange a few friendly words, and bear witness a fight breaking out.

Before she can think of how to react, what to do or say—to decide if she, an outsider, should even get involved—it's over, tempers restrained if not truly extinguished. Glancing down at the package she's been handed, Lys frowns. Hesitates. Then, squaring her shoulders, she politely nudges her way back toward the nearest volunteer, pushing almost all of the supplies into their hands: clothes, blanket, soap, straight razor.]


Here, you can have these back.

[Only a toothbrush, a tiny tube of toothpaste, and a mini-roll of dental floss are kept, stuffed into the deep pockets of her own uniform. Shrugging off the volunteer's confused look, she tries for a disarming smile.]

It's fine, it's fine! I don't need them. But I bet you can think of someone who does, right?

[Like the person right behind her, maybe.]


4) wildcard ⟴ you get a prompt, and you get a prompt, and you get a prompt

lys can also be encountered doing the following!

❄ throwing herself whole-heartedly into cleaning dishes and repairing hammocks, to the point of actually humming while she works
❄ avoiding Rémi's frosty stare while curiously (and confusedly) examining the weapons laid out for cleaning, once more dressed in her guild uniform with a sword clipped to her belt
❄ convincing some of the sanitation crew to take a much-needed a break and buckling down to dig a few latrines all by herself
❄ fetch quest!! fetch quest!! let's fight a monster and grab dank herbs and totally not get caught out in horrible acid rain


[open @ [plurk.com profile] sentinelbeach for plotting or friending! feel free to dm me @ sentinelbeach#2105 or ping me in the game disco]
unclesam: ((89))

[personal profile] unclesam 2021-05-23 02:41 am (UTC)(link)
[ Sam's eyes flick to the massive wolf, then back at Matthias. The man seems unperturbed and the wolf's... looking relaxed enough for Sam to not feel spooked. For the time being. The pup's otherwise huge enough to turn anyone into a cat person, Sam imagines. ​]

I can get with that. [ The rats sure were a thing. Sam's more and more grateful for vibranium existing every single day. ] I've thrown in with the aid station, but you and the fur mountain need some backup scouting out there, I'm happy to help. [ He raises one arm slightly, gestures around them. ] This place could do with with more ways to bring in food and supplies. [ And Sam's not gonna lie - he thinks a lot of the hatchlings are more equipped to venture beyond the camp than Rémi's seasoned but struggling security, or the civilians. Besides... a chance to gather some intel that doesn't rely on trickle down economics? Sign him the hell up. ]
mylawn: (pic#10467979)

[personal profile] mylawn 2021-05-23 02:41 am (UTC)(link)
[76 is still clutching his, as if despite the assertion that they shouldn't worry about things like this, he's a little reluctant to open it. Maybe he just wants to sort through it in private, so he's relieved for the change of subject.

He shakes his head.
]

We only made it as far as the Moon.

[And that hadn't exactly ended well.]

For all we knew, we were alone.
unfastens: (i ain't at home)

holding cell

[personal profile] unfastens 2021-05-23 02:43 am (UTC)(link)
Judging by that paste we've been eating, I don't think they're listening.

[ but what does he know? A prayer can't hurt. Bruno looks like he had about the same idea as Balthier; he's stripped off all his outer layers of clothes, and is currently doing his best to wring out and scrape off all the slime from them. Tragically, the expensive-looking white suit looks like it might be a permanent shade of off-blue unless someone here decides to start a dry cleaning venture. Standing in a shower while still wearing anything (let alone the lace bodysuit he's stuck with) is also less than comfortable, but he only has three minutes and he figures this is the best way to maximize how much he can get reasonably clean in that time. Nonetheless, he looks more determined than discomforted as he focuses on scrubbing out the sleeve folded over his forearm. ]
portolan: (h a n d y)

[personal profile] portolan 2021-05-23 02:47 am (UTC)(link)
[ he chuckles at the question, adjusting the cuffs on his fine shirt, aware of the quality of his gilded leather vest, sturdy pants, and boots. there was a time he was almost military, bypassing the regular training and expectations for an appointed position. one of the things he'd hated was the dress code. this was still better than that.

he'd spent the first few days wondering if he needed to keep his occupation and talents private, but everyone here was looking for know-how. it seemed more worth it to share than to keep it private.
]

Sorry to disappoint. My official profession was pirate, although I did spend the better part of a year galavanting around the country protecting a princess and fighting a crazed emperor and several self-proclaimed gods, so maybe there's hope for me.

That blue suit standard issue soldier where you come from?

[ he doesn't think so. he thinks this man -- with his roving eyes, his careful speech, his deliberate footing -- was someone important, and someone who has seen some shit. ]