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ximilialog2022-06-06 09:01 am
- ! event log,
- altered carbon: takeshi kovacs,
- doctor who: clara oswald,
- doctor who: the doctor (11),
- doom patrol: rita farr,
- fear street: ziggy berman,
- grishaverse: the darkling,
- gundam seed/destiny: yzak jule,
- mass effect: kaidan alenko,
- one piece: rosinante donquixote,
- pacific rim: newton geiszler,
- star trek aos: james t. kirk,
- star trek aos: leonard mccoy,
- star trek aos: spock,
- supernatural: dean winchester,
- the 100: clarke griffin,
- the old guard: andromache,
- the untamed: wei wuxian,
- the witcher: yennefer of vengerberg,
- towards the terra: soldier blue,
- transformers: drift,
- transformers: megatron,
- transformers: minimus ambus,
- transformers: rodimus,
- yakuza: zhao tianyou
MISSION: THE FOX AND THE HARE, PART 1
● ● ● M I S S I O N 7 . 1
The time between the team’s return from Vrefesea and the start of a new mission seems to stretch on — instead of the usual lull between missions lasting a couple of weeks, two becomes three and three becomes four, until finally the tell-tale notification sound of a new file alerts the crew through their earpieces that a new mission has arrived. Upon opening it, Orbers will find the details of a planet called E-23b … and barely after having finished reading the available information, Viveca’s voice will begin to speak.
Her message cuts off there, leaving the team in a mad scramble to gather their required belongings and head over to the platform already humming loudly in wait, a palpable energy in the air.
Viveca is present when you all gather by the platform, her expression visibly tighter than usual. As soon as everyone is gathered there, she speaks again.
She floats closer to Sam, who happens to be standing near her, and hands him a small card upon which the revolution symbol has been drawn with ink.
With that, the lights of the teleportation machine intensify until they’re near-blinding, and as you close your eyes, you feel that familiar pull transporting you across time and space; and as ever, there is is the voice, a now-familiar chorus letting you know of the goal you must fulfill —
And then, just as suddenly, it’s gone. Instead, you open your eyes to a dark sky full of clouds, neon signage and shifting holograms filling your vision instead.
Welcome to the Arch, orbers.
Upon arrival, the Orbers are scattered throughout the Arch — some of you will be lucky enough to have got your apartments or hotels located within the First Circle, while others will find yourselves landing in the outer circles… but chances are that wherever you are, you’ve wound up at your destination with a familiar face, at least.
1.0 Those in the First Circle end up in the lobby of a large, fancy hotel called the Golden Courtyard. Rows of lights illuminate the walls, while a synthetic floor resembling glossy, speckled granite shines underneath your feet, reflecting the sound of your footsteps. Behind the front desk, an android receptionist (her tag reads, ‘Chiayi’) waits for you.
She hands you a card — all you need to do is carry it to access the red-and-blue circle of lights that will transport you to the upper floors of the hotel, and then again to enter your room. As Chiayi had explained, in the large room you will have clothing waiting for you, along with a golden card meant to be used for credit transfers (should you need money), as well as a map of the city.
2.0 Perhaps instead you’ll end up in the Second Circle, or Third, or Fourth, or Fifth — each getting further and further away from the high-tech neon splendor of the First Circle. In the Second and Third Circles, you’ll find your apartments still in high, sleek skyscrapers that you enter from the streetside; in the Fourth and Fifth, the apartments or hotels are smaller, not quite so clean, the neon signs flickering uncertainly above the entranceways.
You’ll find there’s already a key card in your pocket, one that lets you in to either the entire building or, if the front door is unlocked, then to your apartment — inside, floor-to-ceiling windows offer a view over the city, while there’s a bundle on your bed with clothes and a credit card waiting for you.
Of course, some larger apartments have been booked for more than one person, so before you claim the entire space as yours, it’s best to check whether someone else shares the same key card to the apartment as you do.
3.0 Every hotel room and apartment is equipped with access to the HOLONET, a city-wide network that takes care of everything you’ll need to navigate the city: credit transfers, maintaining databases, showing ads around the city, broadcasting news and movies, sending holomessages — everything one might need. To log in, one must first create an account and allow a retinal scan, which will then be your pass-code providing you access to everything the HOLONET has been programmed to allow you.
Once you’ve settled into your temporary living quarters for the duration of this mission, you might find yourself itching to explore the city around you. No matter which circle you find your lodgings, the seven (well, six) circles are open to you. All you need are the credits to find your way by any variation of transportation methods: vehicle (both on ground and in the air), sky-train, the underground, or by foot. Due to the unlivable, borderline toxic quality of the atmosphere on E-23b, the everlasting heavy cloud-cover creates an eternal night-time that protects the buildings and the people from ultraviolet over-exposure, as well as all other harmful gasses that threaten to suffocate the world of life. The effects of the darkness are countered by neon lights that line buildings and light up interiors, and illuminated billboards advertising every commodity from the essential to the inconsequential.
4.0 The First Circle is largely occupied by the compound known as the Chacier House, which houses the movers, shakers, and rule-makers on E-23b. The compound comprises the main tower, the second building, and the parliament. Easily accessible by all available modes of transportation, the ‘second building’ is made up of an arc of office buildings for lower-level government employees which is raised over an open courtyard freely accessed by the public with fountains and benches perfect for lunch breaks. The Chacier itself sits on a podium for the parliament and is a tall, looming skyscraper with 50 floors total plus a penthouse to the North wing for the Mayor’s place of residence. On level 40, the building splits into two forks known as the North and South wings, and these are places of residence for the upper echelon of E-23b. The highest government officials and most prestigious militia leaders, their secretaries and second-in-commands make their homes within the North and South wings from levels 41-49 with their families.
Security into the Chacier building is extremely safeguarded and only accessible by way of bioscans, but the Chacier House has one exception: an organized tour (with body and bag checks) allows residents of the Arch to visit the building at Level 40 for the affordable admission price of 35 credits, and boasts an all-glass observation deck that offers the best view of all the seven circles in the city — great for photo ops.
The only way to gain any access into the rest of the main building and the parliament (which is connected to the military offices) is finding employment with the Chacier House. It is also a quick way to upgrade your housing, especially if you happened to get your start in the outer-circles of the Arch.
5.0 A handful of blocks away from the Chacier House by foot (two by train, and a quick 5 minute drive by vehicle), you’ll inevitably wander towards the sprawling campus of Archway University, an educational institution made up of three skyscrapers of white stone and colourful glass panels that create an almost dizzying pattern as you look up, and up, and up. The courtyard shared between the three buildings is reminiscent of the courtyard at the Chacier House, with a fountain and benches, as well as statues of renowned educators and the more famous graduates throughout E-23b’s history, including the Mayor himself.
Tuition into this prestigious academy is vastly beyond the budgets for the majority of the outer circles without scholarships or a letter of patronage from someone of prestige within the First Circle, and this creates a more competitive environment than any lesser school outside the circle. Here, the best professors and mentors have been hired to challenge and teach the crème de la crème of burgeoning talent. Anyone can take the entrance exams and receive an interview with the Dean and the admissions committee.
Once admitted (whether through persuasive means, a reference letter, or overconfidence), you’ll be able to attend lectures spanning all manner of subjects from the hard sciences to romantic literature, but those with an inclination towards engineering, cybernetics, and biochemistry will find themselves more favoured by the Archway than any other. Admittance into the university will also allow you full access to the campus library system, which is home to thousands and thousands of digital volumes backed up and saved to an unlimited server. Those in the sciences will have access to the labs.
As a full-time student, you will also have the opportunity for dormitory housing along with your fellow students. In nearby residential buildings that make up its own neighbourhood, these rooms are clean and utilitarian and occupied by other students who prefer to live on campus for ease of commute, for the community itself, or because alternate housing is decidedly less than ideal.
6.0 During those hours after work or between classes, you might decide to head into the commerce and entertainment district, joining your coworkers or classmates for a night out, or for your own exploration. Buildings here are densely packed in together, nearly blocking out the clouded skies overhead, with shops and clubs and lounges and market stalls crammed into every possible space.
If you look up, you’ll find holo-ads around the city’s buildings advertising Bottled Air — It’s just a breath of freshness away!, and discounts and offers on multi-packs of the sustenance tablet Food4Real, which is E-23b’s most popular and trusted food-source brand. A round through even one part of the entertainment district will make it clear the distinct lack of any restaurants serving organic food, and even water here is called Man-Wa, short for 'Manufactured Water'. Ticker-tape headlines scroll across the bottom of numerous screens reading headlines such as, ‘Catch “The Man Who Rose Above: The Jacques Reman Story” Which Tells the Mayor’s Tragic Family Story on E23bBC, Tonight At 2200’. Another screen reads, ‘But Where Is The Fox? an in-depth article into the missing revolutionary, by Callan Dela Cruz’ with bounties displayed for the Hare, the Fox, and the Wolf, accompanied with monotone images of masked figures against a deep fuschia backdrop.
The streets on ground level are lined with freelance vendors and business representatives advertising their shops to any passersby, many in costume, some showcasing the very services (in this case, cybernetic body modifications) they aim to sell.
There are lots filled with motorbikes and waiting cab cars if you’re finished here and want to return home … or continue past this Circle by way of train and into the next.
7.0 If you decide to venture into the Fourth Circle, either because you arrived here or you want to explore the full extent of the greater city, you’ll find that the environment here is dramatically different from the cleanliness and veneer of respectability that the First Circle possesses. The buildings are a little more run-down and lack maintenance but they’re still heavily in use, housing drinking holes and pawn shops and body-mod parlours that offer slightly more niche options. Here alcohol can be found aplenty, though you might find that it doesn’t taste anything like what you might be used to. Most of it comes in two forms: clear and strong, or dark and strong, and neither option tastes particularly like anything. But one or two glasses will do the trick for the majority — and a couple more for those with particularly high tolerances, and that's the point. Here establishments also have a little more space to breathe, sprawling across more area with some buildings only reaching a height of three or four stories as opposed to the skyscrapers of the busy entertainment and shopping district of the Second and Third Circles.
The Den can be found here, its entrance down a stair below ground level, making its name apt for its location. Two stories sit on top of the bar, presumably where its owner, Yvonne Craig, lives. Inside, the long rectangular space is dimly lit in a hue of dark green, reflecting the earthy tones of the lamp-shades that line the dark walls covered in old posters and decal reliefs of wildlife creatures rubbed out from age.
The owner herself is the only one behind the bar and she looks at you as you come in. There are a few tables occupied by nameless faces conversing amongst themselves, and a couple of lone drinkers on either side of the long bar itself, small glasses of liquor before them.
8.0 The Fifth to Seventh Circles start to blend into each other as you move past them and draw a little nearer to the waterside. The Fifth Circle still resembles some of the Fourth, with a scattering of bars and small stalls selling half-broken wares and offering far more suspicious modifications, but as you head into the Sixth Circle, the area starts to resemble a quiet wasteland. The streets are filled with cracks and potholes, and people have learned to build their own shelter in any place they can claim. Those with enough money and employment fill the tightly dense cluster of buildings in residential neighbourhoods, but some are not so lucky. Half-tattered tents are squeezed into corners for shelter against the elements, and there is an absence of neon lights and advertisements here.
It’s quiet.
But it’s an eerie sort of quiet, the kind that has you clutching your belongings just a little closer to your chest, or glancing over your shoulder every now and then.
Not everything is so dire, and you’ll find that there are groups here trying to help each other. Those with as much as they have offer food tablets and half-empty bottles of their manufactured water to those who have none under the shelter of a hollowed out ground-level building. Tables and chairs are crammed into the space, with a line of homeless waiting in their place for their daily meal. Helpers from all Circles are welcome here to try and help the others, volunteer positions (unfortunately there is no money to offer proper employment) are freely given to anyone who wants to help.
Beyond the Sixth Circle lies the Seventh, encompassing everything outside the livable land — and it’s this area that appears to be restricted to any access, all of the buildings quiet and guarded. The militia and any authority figures have been clearly remiss within these outer circles, but as you draw towards the Seventh, you’ll find that they return again, keeping guard of something.
It is after the team’s first week in the Arch that suddenly, when the clock strikes midday, all the HOLONET broadcasts grind to a halt, pictures freezing and shifting in pixellized form until the images morph into a masked face that resembles a hare; when they speak, their voice sounds deep and scrambled, making it impossible to tell whether the speaker’s gender or identity.
Our numbers grow every year. How long until the Arch sides with us entirely? Mr. Reman, just you watch and wait. We’ll be here. We’ll always be here.
Those who hear us — there’s always a way to make a difference. Never forget. And if you believe you will — well, that’s what I’m here for.
9.0 Depending on where you are, as the Hare starts to speak, you’ll bear first-hand witness to a variety of reactions: the mad scramble in the Chacier House, officials trying to trace the exact coordinates and the signal of the breach within the HOLONET, and questions of how the Fables were able to access and hack into the mainframe this time.
Out there in the Archway, or perhaps in one of the bars around the city, some people will applaud when the Hare is finished; others shush them, or say loudly, Well, finally that’s over.
For others, especially in the outer circles, it may be that their HOLONET suddenly starts to broadcast a map, upon which there are several locations marked; and on the streets, people are running, catching whatever vehicle they can. A particular hotel in the Fourth Circle suddenly changes its name on the front. Something is happening.
10.0 Should you follow where the map leads you, you’ll see that the destinations are a set of nondescript government buildings located right at the border of the Seventh Circle. You make it there just in time to see a group of people, all with different animal masks, enter the buildings. Other citizens gather outside, breaths held and waiting — until shortly after, the masked Fables come out again, this time with people dressed in all white: those sentenced to the labour camps, held in the buildings before being taken there.
That is when those waiting outside spring to action, taking those freed and shoving them into their vehicles; whatever it takes to get them away from their holding cells. Maybe you’ve joined the rescuers; maybe you’re one of the ones helping now.
Or perhaps you happen to be standing in one of the locations in the Second Circle when a shiny black speeder slows to a halt in front of the building, the person still on it wearing the very same mask you’ve just seen on the HOLONET.
The Hare jumps off the speeder and runs to the door of the building, connects what seems to be a small device to the panel next to the door, and within the next five seconds, disconnects it — and turns to leave.
This may be your only chance to speak to the one in charge of the entire revolution.
F Y I
• If you have questions about any of the prompts or the mission in general, please direct them HERE.
• To submit a search request regarding any clues, or to speak with any of the NPCs mentioned in the log, trying to overhear conversations, or exploring any specific place during any of the prompts, please do so HERE.
• And finally, your soundtrack for this log: ♪ ♪ ♪
chants "bar fight" in the distance
the stale, acrid air is almost freeing compared to the nightclubs she's been forced to frequent in the second circle. bright, chaotic; there are still white spots clearing out from her vision when she blinks, as though nights of sensory overload have seared into her retinas. still a migraine that wants to pound at the back of her skull from a rocketing bassline.
— then again, the furious pounding of drums onstage could be equally at fault. curiosity — and the tacky floor — glue her in place. newt's phone had been a treasure trove of unexplored music for her, but this is ... something else altogether in its lively chaos. something better witnessed from a distance, old habits keeping her planted in a corner, content to watch this part of the world move along without her involvement.
the floor sticks to her boots, the ghost of drinks spilled past, as she takes a quick, sliding step back from jostling bodies nearer to the stage. more reminiscent of fighters brawling, to alina's eye, than any dancing. and at the perimeter of them —
newt, as though her thoughts had summoned him here. she squints past the black lights, trying to read his lips over the music — the invitation slowly clicking into place. the shake of her head is comparatively fast, wide eyes flickering over to a forming circle of people elbowing one another in the side, and then back to newt. ]
Um. [ her mouth hangs open on the hinge of her jaw, before: ] If that's your idea of dancing, I think I'd rather keep my ribcage intact for tonight.
no subject
Well, no! You just gotta avoid the mosh pits! Or — whatever this planet calls 'em! The stomp ground? The flail zone? Who even knows. [But he'll go ahead and stop his dancing (mostly, because his head is still bobbing as if he's a car dash ornament).] What've you been up to, sungirl?! Trying to get out there more, stretch your baby bird wings in sci-fi dive bars? Here, c'mon, let's move out of the concussion zone-
[As he moves her along, something strikes him, very impulsively.]
Oh!!! And check it out!
[He sticks his tongue out, revealing the obvious bar and ball piercing there.]
I gob a tonguh pierthing agaim!
no subject
[ newt looks as at home as a sun surfing the sky — the kind of glow she doesn't want to risk stomping out. saints know he's been locked in the prison of his own body for far too long, almost buried and left for dead; she won't be the raincloud pouring down on his parade.
her lips part with a protest, prepared to shuffle him back into the flock of bodies, if he's migrated to her side just for her sake — but it's a lost cause, for a woman as distracted by shiny objects as any bird. newt's piercing gleams in the frantic flash of stage lights, demands her attention as she swivels her head to peek over.
it's his excitement that catches her eye, first. a happiness that had seemed far away weeks ago, like an eternally winter night waiting for a spring day. it spreads contagiously across her own mouth as the corners twitch upward, shuffling herself closer to the tacky bar. her elbows settle across its edge, leather sticking to its barely-clean edges. ]
That looks like a perfect recipe for getting stuck on someone else's teeth.
[ ... alina starkov's own shameless dad joke for the ages. she accompanies it with a clear disregard for personal boundaries, curiosity getting the better of her as she delicately flicks at that silver little ball. really, at this rate, she's no better than a kitten swatting at yarn.
— but maybe personal boundaries are a myth, when the other person has had your teeth lodged in their shoulder. ]
no subject
[Said as if a ghoulish ghost hovering around a stereotypical castle on a hill. He thinks he's soooo funny, even if she wouldn't understand that reference at all. He flinches back like a dog getting flicked in the noise, an indignant look fleeting on his face and lacking any real heat or earnestness.]
Hey! For your information, tonguing someone with a piercing in their mouth is kinda cool! [Sorry, did you not want TMI from the tipsy guy? Too late.] My old girlfriend had one, and I had one after that, and I never got it stuck on anyone's teeth!
[He waggles his tongue at no one in particular, just for the sake of messing with it, and the little plastic ball glows a striking blue as it dances around..]
You should open your mind a little! You've got ear piercings at least, don't you?
no subject
[ if he's going to emulate ghostly howling, then it's fair game to lacquer that one word in an ominous coating. it's not so far off from an old crone telling ghost stories in the dark as cautionary tales for misbehaving children; don't run out into the dark alone, or baba yaga will come steal you away to cook you.
she's been the motivation for so many of ana kuya's warnings, after all. not that it had ever done much to break her out of her more spirited choices.
as it becomes clear flagging the bartender down is a hopeless dream, alina teeters over the edge of the counter. with all of that same mischief-making boldness, she plucks a glass out for herself and a bottle of whiskey that follows, like someone used to being too overlooked to draw attention.
her head gives a small shake in the process, voice slipping into something wry and sarcastic. ]
Piercings weren't army-approved. We could take a bullet through the brain, but earrings? They had to draw the line somewhere.
no subject
[That sure is a quote.]
If you wanna get some, just lemme know! I'll walk you right to the lady who did mine. You can get super cute earrings and everything; I kinda regret not getting mine done sooner, honestly. But I'm gonna stretch my earlobe a little to make up for it.
[GAUGES.
But Alina probably has no clue what the hell he's going on about, so-]
Oooh! Gimme some, too. [He slides his empty glass over to her.] What're you even doing in here, anyway? Trying to expand your horizons and learn how to party harder?
no subject
[ that teasing lilt tapers off. it's becoming routine that only a fraction of newton's sentences are ever decipherable to her, overlaid by meanings and slang she can make sense of ... but she dutifully nods along, anyway, as though going with the flow of the current will make it easier to understand him. ]
I'll keep that in mind. [ the glass clinks as she sets it over the edge of his. her pour is a clear waterfall, a notable lack of stinginess, before she realizes — right. probably not best for his brain to soak in alcohol, with all that it's been mashed and diced lately. ] I'm just ... exploring for now.
[ a beat. it's hardly a lie, but more honestly: ]
Laying low while I try to figure out my goal. I'm not very popular with the locals right now.
[ droplets splash over the edge as she heaves the bottle back abruptly, burning onto her finger. her shoulders roll into a shrug. no one can be shocked alina starkov has already stirred trouble like she's magnetized toward it. it's just another ordinary part of a normal day that ends in y. ]
A disreputable den of sin seemed like the right place for all that.
no subject
[He leans in, eyes round and curious.]
Dude, I've been trying to figure out how to get my goal done, too.
Maybe we can help each other! What's yours? I'll bet I can totally get it done for you by the end of the night; you can't count on me for these kinds of things, y'know? As long as it's not, like... "Cut off your teammates hand", because I really need my hands.
... A cyborg hand would be pretty neat, though...
[Sorry, this is what you get when he's tipsy.
...
And when he's not tipsy, probably.]
no subject
Not your hands. [ a dramatic pause trails her as she moves closer to stage whisper, ] Just a toe would do. Maybe a finger. Pinky?
[ but before he can take her act at face value, her mouth cracks open as easily as egg yolk, revealing a smile — though there's no mistaking something hesitant in it. ]
I'm supposed to leave one of you to fend for yourselves. I'm not even sure what counts. Letting you lay on the floor when you trip over your shoelaces? Looking away while you drink what tastes suspiciously like mouth wash?
no subject
Anyway, he brightens at the other thing, so crisis averted!]
Oh yeah?
Dude, I think I have a way to help you with that. But only if you help me with mine after, because I'll totally deserve your help for this one. [He leans in, gives her a little nudge.] I'll start a brawl in here, and all you gotta do is not help me out! Right? Just let me get my shit rocked!
[TOTALLY NORMAL NIGHT OUT WITH A FRIEND.]
no subject
complete pandemonium served up on a platter.
there's something to be said for his miraculous resilience, like a tree too firmly rooted to be shaken from the earth, but ... well. comparative to the size of his presence and spirit? his limbs share more in common with twigs. fragile. breakable. glass bones that may get smashed into shards, the minute a fist connects. ]
You can't be serious. That sounds more like "let me bleed out on a dirty floor, I'm sure it'll be fine" to my ears.
[ funny joke?? maybe?? she casts her eyes back to his, expectant like she's waiting to hear the punchline that isn't coming. then, after a discerning beat, she squints. ]
Don't tell me you're actually excited about taking a fist to the face.
no subject
Serious as sin! I mean, I give you permission to totally break your goal if I end up bleeding out on a dirty floor; then you can totally jump in and save me from certain doom. But it wouldn't be my first barfight, little miss sunshine.
[He nudges her, looking none too concerned.]
Besides, you'll help me with my goal later! Tit for tat!
Whaddya' say? Let me be useful!
no subject
his eyes are too alive, glinting too bright, for it to be that. it's answer enough over whether her's eager to throw himself into punching distance. but — there's still a second where she stews in hesitation, searching for even a sliver of worry in him. or, more hopelessly, some sign of self-preservation.
no such luck. her shoulder lightly jostles back at his nudge, pulling out a huff from her nose. ]
It's your first barfight here. What if they have — [ oh. wait. she spares a (less than) subtle look over her shoulder, aiming for clandestine and failing miserably. when her attention returns to him, it's with a hushed, hissed out whisper. ] What if their hands are made out of metal?
[ ... knowing newt, she already expects that answer to be an enthused comment on how cool it would be to "get his shit rocked by metal fists." and so, with a squint, she hastily continues on: ]
And you still haven't told me what your goal is. I'm starting to think it must be something terrible.
[ which feels more likely, really, than assuming she's worth the effort of someone taking a few hits to the face just to help her see this through. ]
no subject
Yeah, it's pretty crappy. I wouldn't blame you for bailing on it, but it's at least, uh. Just a time eater for you, more than anything; one of those 24-hour ones. [He leans in.] Either way — I'm gonna do it! I got a perfect target anyways!
[Yeah, he still hasn't told her, but it's more because he's tipsy and too ready to commit to hers than anything malicious. He hops up onto his feet, bouncy with the energy of a man about to go get into a brawl. He tucks his tie far into the front of his button-up, mumbles something along the lines of "so they don't strangle me" in the noisy club and gives Alina a thumbs up as he deposits his glasses in her hand.
Then he collects his unfinished glass of liquor, and starts bouncing toward the nearest crowd before she can protest.]
Hey! Dicknose! [Newton proceeds to throw the remains of what's in his drink at a stubbled guy's face — someone who is a headandahalf taller than Newton, with just enough bicep to implicate he works out on the regular. As the man's companions startle, Newt adds with peak madman energy:] That's for knocking into me without apologizing earlier, you prick!
[See, Alina! Easy peasy! The guy is already grabbing Newton by the collar and giving him a good ol' fashioned punch to the stomach; on the bright side: no metal hands. Newton dramatically hits the counter like a boxer against the ropes with an OOF, then barrels himself into the guy's stomach like a mini-torpedo—
There is, admittedly, a gremlin energy in Newton's motions that imply he's gotten into scuffles more than anyone would think. But are you doing the whole 'abandoning' thing???? You'd better be! Even if he's currently earning his black eye!]
no subject
that. the solid connection of newt into the man's midsection that prompts their stranger's companions into action. one reaches forward, ready to grab newt by the scruff and shake him off. alina, meanwhile, edges closer to the lip of her barstool, rocking her weight onto the balls of her feet with restless energy.
somewhere in the crowd, the chaos moves like an infection. a glass goes soaring in a distant corner. the pit of thrashing bodies near the stage slam into one another, growing impossibly more frenetic. helpless, her lips part on an inhale, absently shuffling newt's glasses onto the crown of her head.
behind the bar, a woman with acid-green hair asks, "friend of yours?" to which alina slinks down into her seat, flipping the bridge of his glasses down onto her nose, like that might have any hope of shielding her identity. then, with a baffled expression that's only half-fabricated: ]
I've never seen him before in my life.
[ the bartender looks rightfully unconvinced. in the back of alina's mind, behind the mountain of worry she has over newt being reduced to a chew toy, she makes a note to never let herself or newt return to this bar, on threat of being immediately kicked out the moment they show their faces. or having property damage added onto their tab.
but through it all — she is painfully uninvolved. even if it takes gripping her drink a little too tightly to prevent herself from marching into the fray. ]
no subject
Aaaand he's heaved out the door to roll across the alleyway tarmac.
"Stay out there, you little fuck!"
One of them gives Newt's leg a rude little kick before they retreat back into the bar.
... Newt groans, and just lays there, feeling older than he thought he was.
A winded, whining message comes through Alina's earpiece:]
You think that was good enough?
no subject
alina ignores his message in favor of slinking out the door like a dog shamed for destroying the furniture, tail tucked between its legs. which isn't far from the reality of it all, given that there's a furious parting gift from the bartender burning a little hole in her holonet's purchase history. a nice note that reads pay me for the goddamn headache you caused in my bar, or get the fuck out and never come back.
option two is admittedly looking a little tempting once she ducks out of view. her boot toes newt's arm before she realizes he's melted there, startling as she peeks down to where he's sprawled along pavement and looking like a crumpled-up spider. it may or may not completely obliterate any effort he's put into helping her tonight, but she doesn't hesitate to stretch out a hand to try to haul him to his feet.
... as well as she can, for someone her size, which includes a lot of awkward grappling. no one wanting her around isn't anything new, really, so there's no grief or shock to spare when she tells him, through her winded attempts to get him back up, ]
I think we might have gotten ourselves banned for life.
[ alas, sticky dive bar, they hardly knew ye. 😔 ]
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It's fine, it's fine. There's tons of smelly, goopy bars where that came from. [He gets his feet back under him, so at least Alina is spared the embarrassment of being about as strong as an furiously meowing kitten.] That guy punched like a baby.
[Says the guy who's eye is definitely puffing up.
He reaches over to grab his glasses off her head, fumbling them back on.]
That totally had to count.
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lint. a food tablet. a half-broken, holographic pin she'd found lost on the bathroom floor of a nightclub. she passes them all by to snatch at a stack of crumpled napkins, thrusting them out toward newt. something to clean up the pinpricks of blood he's missed.
as she waits for him to accept them, there's only one thought that keeps cycling in her mind. ]
Was it worth it?
[ the tip of her head, the quiet curiosity underlining her voice — it makes it clear the question is genuine. eating a good throttling for her sake hardly seems worth the trouble, but in newt's eyes .... she can't help but wonder if he's carrying a debt he feels the need to pay off — a fist to the face to make amends for a knife to the ribs. ]
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Of course it was worth it! You got your goal done, right?
Now this orb can help you power your regret change. It's what we're doing all this for, right?
[And... yeah, sure, he feels he's got a debt to pay off.
But it's not like he wouldn't have helped before that debt, too...!]
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[ some contrarian part of her feels the need to point it out. newt's ignorance would be an easier justification to accept than blind kindness that's rarely been allotted to her. she toes idly at an abandoned glass strewn in this littered alleyway, nudging it into a spooling roll down a slope toward an overflowing dumpster. ]
Maybe I'm trying to undo stubbing my toe, and now you're wearing a black eye over something stupid.
[ something preventable. it isn't far from the truth — her own stupidity, her own preventable mistake. a frown pinches her mouth as she shovels her hands back into her jacket, re-depositing her little bits and bobs of junk into the pocket. ]
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[He dabs his lip again, wincing.]
I don't exactly have a history of making good choices anyway. My last big bar fight, I punched my ex and ended up handcuffed on a sidewalk at, like, 12 in the morning. [A pause.] He deserved it, probably. For the record. He was a total dick.
This was way more beneficial than that, though.
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her hands fidget in front of her, rotating a cheap ring around her index finger, to have the excuse to center her eyes there. ]
If he deserved it, it sounds plenty beneficial to me.
[ there's no judgment — only casual understanding. she's had her own share of losing spats from kerazin to the little palace, instigated by hateful mouths that knew they could provoke her into it. as her fingers fan out, she spares him an inquisitive glance from beneath her eyelashes. ]
I'd ask if you won, but there's usually no winners in that.
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He said I was some drunk he never met before in his life, and I ended up in jail overnight.
So I'd say he ended up winning that one.
[He had spent a long time wondering if he had just been an unlovable person, impossible to endure. It's not like it was the first time he was hard to get along with, right? So it stands to reason he really was just the worst person to love.
People like Shinjiro and Sam, they helped set him straight. Years late.
But it's the thought that counts.]
But it was worth it anyway! It's not so bad, even when you get pummeled for it. Standing up for yourself, putting up a losing fight. If you don't have that, then what else do you get out of it?
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not if it gets you noticed. not if your survival hinges on keeping your head down and your eyes forward. not if you're so different that it paints a fresh target on you, like bleeding out in wolf-infested forests. picking your battles is necessary, even when you want to fight every one of them.
she and mal had learned that the hard way. just as she's learned the hard way that she isn't, and could never be, that soldier that resists biting back. but it wears, some days, all the same. the natural wear and tear of a difficult existence.
something sobers in her expression even in the face of newt's laugh, tinged as bitter as the sour drinks beyond the bar's door. it's a familiar sound — the one people cling to, trying to convince themselves they're unbothered by what they still carry. like maybe they can really coax themselves into believing it's not so bad, in the end. ]
Some people get tired of always fighting a losing battle.
[ she awkwardly shrugs a shoulder, as though she can pretend she isn't among that number. more often than not, lately. ]
You got away from him, in the end. That's better than winning. Isn't it?
[ — or perhaps that's only her idea of a personal victory. ]
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