◣ OPEN ◢ HATCHING LOG 001

[raiamods]

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!.

NAVIGATION ❀

Comments

illumi zoldyck

[needfully]

I. security division

[ The problem with being raised to do something since you were born is that... you're not very good at much else! Especially in Illumi's case, when that thing you were raised to do was kill people. He has little in the ways of engineering knowledge, and his medical knowledge is all primed for, well, inflicting pain, not alleviating it.

Not a painter, and not a builder either, so that leaves him with thinking he should just stick to what he knows: weaponry, fighting. Security seems close enough, since he doubts anyone on the ship is going around looking for hitmen to hire - not that he'd do it without being paid, anyway. Self-serving as he is, and for how little heartfelt desire he has to pitch in, he can recognize if he doesn't put something on the table here, he might not be able to worm his way into this little encampment, make use of what little stability they have. It doesn't look like any of the Hatchlings are getting hired here anytime soon, but that doesn't mean they shouldn't check it out, in his opinion. ]

Thinking of joining up with them? [ He says, his tone casual, and his wide eyes drifting back to Rémi and the other people milling about the stall - his gaze especially lingers on those with visible injuries or amputations. ] Looks dangerous.

[ That, or they're incompetent, which he doubts if they've managed to survive for three years. It doesn't seem like he's particularly bothered by the mad cold shoulder Rémi is giving all of them; no, he seems unaffected by it at all, simply perusing the weapon shelves as casually as one would look through the grocery store. Neat stuff, why not look at it? ]

II. community outreach

[ Most people would at least give some pause upon witnessing the distress caused by these clothes being given away.... but not this guy. In fact, he takes in the young person's display with something that can best be described as blank-faced apathy, hardly giving the event a second glance before opting to speak with you, instead. ]

Hey.

[ Yes, you! He turns his back to the commotion going on, holding out an article of clothing he'd just received. On a closer inspection, he actually lucked out in the dead-people's-clothes-lottery, because it seems he got handed a pretty nice (if not worn) leather jacket, lined with shearling. ]

I want to trade, if you're willing to give that up.

[ He is of course referring to the clothes you got in your care package... whatever it is, it's perhaps softer than the material that he's been given, or maybe looser, or maybe just... you know, not this! He's not that picky. If the young person protests further at his give-no-fucks attitude, its as though he doesn't even hear them with the way he ignores it. ]

III. fetch quest

[ The good news: you and Illumi have made it to the base of one of these arid cliffs that allegedly grow the Starspire root at the edges. There's still a way's to go even after you climb, of course, but at least the light is at the end of the tunnel! The bad news: as the crew members back at camp explained, the incline is very steep. And rocky. And sharp? It looks all kinds of dangerous, and there's certainly not any rock climbing gear that they set them up with - so it'll be up to good old fashioned brute strength, it seems.

Right as the two of you approach the cliff, Illumi shields his eyes with a hand, giving a soft hum under his breath as he takes in the summit. ]

Well, [ He interjects, conversationally, not at all perturbed by the task ahead. ] Shall I go first, or you? The better climber should lead.

[ And by that he means, if you're a good climber, now's your chance to speak up!! He seems either ignorant of how arduous the task will be, or brazenly confident that he'll be able to climb this thing no sweat, given his relaxed demanor and neutral expression. Which will it be? Only time will tell... ]

IV. wildcard / other info

( illumi can be found around the camp throughout this introduction period doing all sorts of weird things: being covered in goo without complaint, eating the bad food without complaint, and being oddly at ease despite the wackiness of the events that have unfolded thus far. if you'd like to handwave introductions/having seen each other at one point on the ship (maybe during the holding cells? or across the table at the mess hall??) feel free to! )

i.

[spalten]

It's a thought. But not one I'm considering right now.

[ he watches rémi look at all of them suspiciously. vidar gives an impudent wave, only to be ignored; it doesn't bother him much either. ]

In any case they don't seem like they're inclined to have us join. We've a tough crowd, here.

[needfully]

[ Illumi does not follow suit in giving that wave, but he does watch. All he's really done is watch at this booth, since he's much more interested in developing a good understanding of the type of person that runs security than trying to join it himself. He hums. ]

They've likely already lost a lot of people to not understanding the planet. [ Many lives were definitely spent just figuring out how to survive here in the hodgepodge way they're doing it now. Of that, he's certain. ] Taking new people onto this division would probably cause more of that.

[ Its true that everyone who hatched is not going to know anything about the flora and fauna, or about the geography or weather of the planet. In Illumi's mind, it makes perfect sense that these people don't want strangers who are unprepared for the environment thinking they're Hot Shit™ and getting more people killed. ]

At least, that's my theory on how they're thinking. For now.

[spalten]

That's true. But I highly doubt that's all of it too - you know the people you work with if you survived being on this planet long enough. Trusting newcomers who mysteriously appeared during a tense time, what with their anniversary and all .... I'd want to prioritize my own people over that.

[ not knowing their temperaments or allegiances is bad enough, and now they even want jobs. he can understand rémi's problem even if he's not sympathetic to it. ]

[needfully]

Prioritizing the people they already know is the logical response. [ Said evenly, neutrally, like he doesn't fault the crew for such a position. ] To take it further would be to get rid of the "Hatchlings" altogether...

[ To eliminate the potential threat of the newcomers, to eliminate the need to feed more people... yes, that would be the most coldly logical way of dealing with the Hatchlings, that is, only in the world where the crew was certain the cons outweighed the potential pros the Hatchlings had to offer. He agrees that its like a mixture of a lack of trust as well as the Hatchlings' relative ignorance to the state of the planet that's causing this unwillingness to take them on to certain tasks. Still. Illumi shrugs, seeming nonchalant over the matter. ]

But— if they were that kind of group, they would have done that already. Right after we hatched, if they were serious.

[spalten]

You know, I really don't like being called a 'hatchling'. [ just some slight grumbling here. ] However accurate that may be. It's just kind of a weird way to describe things.

... but I think you're onto something. I don't know if it's their collective good will that kept us alive and allowed them to continue being kind to us, it's certainly helpful in some ways, but one can't help but wonder if they're waiting for something else more specific than just ... strange wanderers.

[needfully]

Oh, like they're trying to bring someone specific? Or "something," maybe.

[ And just ended up with... this whole lot? It's an interesting theory, although, truth be told, Illumi hasn't thought too deeply about the obvious fact that something brought them here with some kind of intention. Whatever the reason, he's not too concerned with it. ]

Rather than good will, they probably have just never had to make a hard decision like that. [ Sure, they've had to make hard decisions while surviving, but kill a bunch of strangers to ensure your survival? That's different. ] Plus, a lot of them are civilians. The ones not in charge, that is. It'd cause a political issue to do anything too drastic to us.

i

[unfastens]

[ he wasn't raised to do it, exactly, not like Illumi was, but Bruno is suffering a similar problem. His set of skills is better-suited for a sprawling city with people to meet and networks to form (or, alternatively, a cozy little boat with gear and tackle, but mostly the first thing.) Learning a little bit of first aid was necessary for his position, and he's sure he can help in a pinch, but he's neither qualified nor interested in doing it full-time. Engineering is entirely beyond him. The others are things he could pitch in on from time to time, but the only thing he thinks he'd be truly useful applying himself to fully is protecting others.

Looks like Illumi is thinking the same thing. Which is not surprising, after seeing his skills. Of course, he has no idea Illumi's mostly interested for self-serving reasons... ]

Everything about this place is dangerous. I'd rather meet that danger head-on than let it come to me.

[ he rests a hand on his hip, regarding the standoffish security officer with a pensive expression. Can't blame the guy for not trusting a bunch of weirdos who hatched out of egg sacks immediately - Bruno is very understanding of that, but judging by the state of most of these people, he can't afford to be picky for long. ]

I never got your name before, [ he adds, turning to look at Illumi instead; after a moment, he offers a cordial hand. Illumi had been kind of weird and difficult to work with, but if Bruno wrote people off for that, his gang back home would have had zero members. ] Bruno Bucciarati.

[needfully]

[ If Bruno thought Illumi was weird before, he's about to learn more about his strange personality, because Illumi really only stares as that hand is offered to him. His opinion of the man next him is, of course, a neutral one: the man clearly had some applicable skills, between the way he acts under pressure and that strange, space manipulating ability. Illumi can acknowledge that, from a removed standpoint, this person is a useful one to have around in a pinch. But a handshake?

It feels a little too personal - in a way he finds foreign. When was the last time he shook hands with someone? There's no need for two people who find each other mutually helpful to have around to shake hands, so he simply leaves Bruno hanging like a weirdo, nodding at the name as he commits it to memory. ]

I'm Illumi.

[ While he doesn't follow through with the handshake, his voice still retains an agreeable, melodious tone, while his face remains effortlessly blank. At the very least, it doesn't seem like he finds this awkward at all, considering how he makes direct eye contact with Bruno as he continues speaking. ]

Nice to officially meet you, since we might work together again sometime. Given that those scientists survived. I imagine that kind of outcome is the end goal of this division, after all.

[unfastens]

[ there was at least a 50% chance of Illumi totally ignoring that, based on his odd behavior before, so Bruno is fortunately not taken off guard by the rejection; he smoothly drops his hand and shoves it into a pocket, and decides to pretend nothing happened for both of their sakes. It's fine!! ]

Mm. And protection in a place like this means prevention, as well. People like us are probably in short supply here.

[ sending out vulnerable scientists without any guard - or at least without any sufficient guard - is a clear sign they're lacking in firepower. ]

Your ability back there impressed me.

[needfully]

[ Illumi gives a hum of agreement. He gets the feeling Bruno is saying that for a reason, so he goes along: ]

You surprised me, too. Your "Stand" is different from my nen. [ Breaking eye contact, he lets his eyes drift back to the weapon shelves, holding his arms loosely against his chest. ] That's what we call abilities like mine, where I come from. To put it simply.

[ Normally, he would be more hesitant to even mention the existence of nen to someone who clearly doesn't know what it is. But, for now... its probably fine, he decides, since the man has no way of finding out more about nen except through Illumi's mouth. ]

[unfastens]

[ once again, weirdos think alike, as Bruno's essentially on the same page with regards to talking about his Stand. By this point, he's aware it will most likely mean nothing to anyone other than Trish (and now Illumi, he supposes) unless there's another secret user hiding out among them. That said, Illumi will probably notice him surreptitiously give the area around them a brief glance to make sure nobody's listening in regardless.

He's kind, but he's not stupid. He doesn't trust all these people blindly just because they've decided to share resources with him - and any Stand user knows that keeping their ability secret is their best defense. ]

Maybe abilities like this are present in humans from any "world," even if the name is different.

[ it seems reasonable enough, if it comes from the soul. ]

Were you born with that "nen?" I'm curious. It's obvious you're not a rookie when it comes to fighting.

[needfully]

No. But I learned to use it when I was young. It's a matter of training.

[ Illumi is slightly less careful than Bruno, because he's a total airhead when it comes to being asked things directly. He doesn't even spare a glance around before he answers. However, he does give pause when he wonders to himself to what extent he should open up about where exactly his "experience" comes from— before figuring that anyone who can recognize this kind of skill must come from a related background themself. Takes one to know one— that kind of thing. ]

Why? Were you born with that ability?

[splatoon voicefont] woomy....also ii!

[figlia_morbida]

[Trish was told they were being given packages, packages with desperately needed supplies, and she came without a second thought, clutching hers to her chest when the commotion starts.

Ah.

Her stomach churns, but the strange man's timing saves her from spiraling into her own head for the moment, at least. She blinks owlishly at the jacket he holds out, gaze then dropping to the loose, green shirt (clearly a man's size) draped over her arm, which she...

Trish swallows, offering it to him, head turned away.]

Just take it. I don't want anything in return.

[Truthfully, the way this guy seems unbothered by what's going on isn't wholly unfamiliar to her. As ill as she feels, she finds she doesn't surrender her whole package to him.

Razors, toothbrushes...things like that weren't nearly as personal as clothes, and she couldn't imagine snagging on someone's grief by wearing it in front of them. But she's sure types like this guy and Bruno could. They were like rocks in a river, unyielding.]

We're going to undo some good will strutting about in clothes like this, but it can't be helped, right? That's what you're going to say.

[Just in case he decides to chide her for refusing useful things like this. Clothes aren't easy to come by, surely. Not here.]

[needfully]

I was going to say that I wanted something easier to move in.

[ And that was really his only motivation... he's simply not thinking of how wearing these may help or hurt him in the long run re: his relationship with the existing citizens of the camp; he only thinks of how well the clothes may serve him in the days to come.

Nonetheless, he takes the shirt as offered, and also as offered, he rescinds his own offer. She can suit herself. Illumi won't press the matter - he only offered the trade in the first place because he was sure it would be the only peaceful way to get someone to give up what they already had. But apparently, he was wrong. ]

There's going to be ill will towards us using any resource of theirs... [ He points out, letting out the ghost of a sigh. ] So, should we use nothing of theirs, then?

[ He's asking her genuinely, or at least it seems as if he's doing so. ]

[figlia_morbida]

[Okay, he's the highly practical sort. She can't fault him for that...

Just like he doesn't seem to fault her for her guilty conscience either. So far, at least. She feels a little embarrassed for presuming right away, but she shrugs a shoulder to shake off the feeling.]

I wasn't saying that.

[Whether she likes it or not, these supplies all used to belong to someone who's dead now. Clothes were far more noticeable, certainly, but she supposes the difference doesn't matter. Those people are dead, their remains as scattered as their belongings, and there's no covering up that reality.]

Clothes carry a lot of a person's image with them, that's all. Even when that person is gone.

[She gestures vaguely.]

But it wouldn't do us any good to go without, and if they want our help, I suppose it's only logical. Besides...green seems to be your color more than mine.

[Not really, actually, but he seems to like it more. There, new justification for pawning it off on him!!!!]

[needfully]

[ He'll be honest: he hadn't thought of it that way, not at all. When you put it like that... he supposes it makes sense. Clothes really do "belong" to people in a way that's different from food or beds. Not that he feels it really changes his opinion on whether or not he should be wearing this stuff, which will become obvious with the way he folds up the shirt to rest on top of the jacket he already has. ]

If that's how you feel, then I won't stop you. [ Illumi gives a shrug, his blank eyes giving Trish a once-over. A seemingly normal girl, probably someone who really hates to cause conflict if she doesn't even want to be associated with something like this. An attitude like that is understandable, even if its not relatable. ] Washing that one outfit might get tiring, though.

[ Because she'll have to take it off to clean it? Right...? Or maybe she could wash it while bathing? Either way, he's not here to chastise or try to needle her (pun unintended) about her decisions. Clearly, he either respects her choice, or flat out doesn't care. Abruptly, like a lightbulb just went off in his (empty) head: ]

—Oh, I know. Making your own clothes would solve your problem.

needle her ;DFSDLDS

[figlia_morbida]

[Of course, as the daughter of a fashion designer and an enthusiast besides, image is...was, everything. Clothes are just another way to express someone's individuality, and to see it recycled again and again in a world like this...

She wonders how strong people's sense of self is in a place as oppressive as this.

If anything, Illumi's stance makes perfect sense with this in mind, and Trish can't begrudge him for it. She can't deny he's right, either. Her outfit won't last if it's all she wears the entire time she's here.

That said, she is surprised to hear him offer a suggestion of all things, and she blinks at him, folding her arms as she mulls this over, watching him for any sign he's perhaps joking. His expression meanwhile betrays nothing, and he's not laughing either, so he's definitely not messing with her by saying this.]

...That's not a bad idea, actually. I think I'll take you up on that.

[She knows a little about how to do so, but supplies will be the hard part. Not that any of this is easy, so that's fine.]

It would make more sense than trying to salvage a dwindling amount of clothes. Maybe I'll teach you how to make your own too.

[Yes, this is exactly what Illumi would want, clearly.]

i couldn't not say it the opportunity was RIGHT there

[needfully]

If it becomes necessary.

[ Its neither a refusal nor a commitment - it would be stupid to refuse the tutelage of someone who actually does know how to do it, considering it hasn't yet been made clear to him how many other sets of clothes he'll be able to get his hands on... but he's also the type to only take on new skills when he absolutely needs to. When it becomes directly useful to him to know how to make clothes, then that's when he'll sacrifice time to learn how to do it. For that to happen though, he needs to know— ]

Is this your area of expertise? [ Belatedly, he patches together what she'd said about clothes having such a meaning to others, along with this sudden implication that she has the capacity to teach others. ] Clothing, that is.

wildcard/mess hall

[rhapsodical]

[ Another day, another round of the same brown ooze slapped onto her plate. At least she's not alone at her table this time, even if she almost wishes she was after watching her company eat. She has no idea this is the guy she talked about chimera ants with before but it doesn't matter. She is deeply fascinated (and not in a good way) by his complete ability to down his (gross-looking) meal without even blinking.

Her eyes go to his plate, then her own, then up to his face. Her nose wrinkles—and then wrinkles even more as she catches another unappetizing whiff of her dinner. Ugh, gross. ]

Does that actually taste good to you?

[ There's no way. There's no way it can possibly taste good! ]

[needfully]

No.

[ He answers very quickly and honestly, after swallowing another bite. The truth of the matter is that this stuff tastes foul— its grainy, and oddly sour on some bites, not to mention that the food served is often of slightly unidentifiable origin. Just brown, mushy slop of rehydrated gravy. ]

This is expired, and its probably been dried for years... why would I think it tastes good?

[ His question is completely genuine, because he has no idea why she would think it tastes good to him when it's so obviously bad. Also known as, it doesn't occur to him that being able to swallow it so easily would come with the implication that he actually enjoys it. ]

[rhapsodical]

[ The more he talks the more she leans away from her plate, expression growing ever more concerned (and disgusted) with every passing second. Expired? Dried for years? Please say psyche.

But it never comes, and she's left staring mournfully at her plate, the last traces of her appetite completely gone. ]

Ugh..... I was hoping it would be one of those cases where it tastes way better than it looks.

[ Admittedly, that's happened all of once in her lifetime, but a gal can hope!! ]

Plus you were eating it no problem. People don't usually eat stuff that tastes gross that quickly, y'know?

[ Does he know though............ ]

[needfully]

[ Oh, so that's what she meant. Well, in that case: ]

I've had worse, [ Bluntly, as he scrapes up what remains on his plate to one side. ] So I don't mind.

[ At the very least, he doesn't speak with his mouth full, waiting between bites to respond to her— but his plate is almost gone anyway, so she soon won't have to watch him anymore regardless. His eyes remain on the food rather than on her, expression unchanging even as he moves the clumpy, grainy bits around with his spoon. ]

Dragging it out will only make it last longer, you know. It's better to get it over with.

[rhapsodical]

[ Worse? What could possibly be worse than brown goo, dessicated rat carcasses?

But Zeta chooses not to ask that question, positive that she'll hate whatever answer comes out of his outh, and so she just sighs - loudly! - when he offers up his oh-so-helpful advice. ]

I know, I know.

[ Cue another groan as she picks up her spoon. It hovers over her plate before slowly sinking into the goop. ]

I can't believe I'm going to have to eat this for the rest of her life.

[ It's enough to make a girl cry. You know what else is enough to make a girl cry? The taste of this "food" as she shoves a heaping spoonful of it into her mouth, chews, and swallows. The look on her face is pained, to say the least. ]

[needfully]

[ In direct contrast to the way she's pinching her face this way and that, Illumi's face barely moves as he eats, not even to chew that much, really... he just swallows the last bit of his plate down, setting his spoon down calmly as he watches her dramatic display. At the very least, his stare isn't judgmental. ]

If that were true, you'd get used to it fairly quickly.

[ Its said without a hint of condescension: he really means that matter-of-factly. Maybe from experience? Nonetheless, he's thinking that it can't hurt to share a #protip if they're going to be eating the same disgusting slop everyday. If only so he doesn't have to watch her make such a big deal out of it. ]

You could hold your nose while you eat. It'll mute your senses. Or you could try swallowing it whole. Oh, but that might not work, if you're not used to swallowing food that way... hm...

[ Sometimes you need to workshop your thoughts aloud? Its clear he's just rambling off whatever ideas come into his (empty) head as she struggles to eat. ]