ximilian: (Default)
ximilia mods ([personal profile] ximilian) wrote in [community profile] ximilialog2023-06-01 06:40 pm

MISSION: THE AI AND THE COMMANDER

M I S S I O N   1 4 . 0

SOMEWHENPRESENT DAYFYI

// SOMEWHEN  


The hum of the teleportation platform is familiar, filling your ears as the bright light dissipates enough to safely open your eyes. You feel something solid beneath your feet, and the lack of scent from the asphalt and dirt in Nuhiri and Deumia marks a departure from anything resembling a planet, the space around you giving you no reason to think anything of it. You're on the Ximilia once again — finally. Another mission successfully accomplished, for whatever other hardships you and the rest of the team have endured. Hot food and hot showers await, and Newt will surely be scurrying off to prepare for the team’s usual post-mission movie night.

You’re back and you can’t wait for Viveca to greet you, and for Degar to take the orb away, back to the North Wing to join the other ones.

Except … the station’s walls appear to be peeling, and some of the equipment looks a little older and unpolished. There’s even a layer of space-dust on one of the control boards. And most importantly: no one is here to greet you. As you turn and look to your fellow crewmates in confusion, even now some of you might start to wonder at the change of routine. Ivy, who had just been handling the orb, will be empty-handed, but surely there’s nothing to worry about. The station is peaceful and still. Nothing feels amiss … yet. And then:

// 0-L1V-14
Oh, hello. You are not the team I know. Yet you are here for the orb … Good.

The sound of 0-L1V-14 — or 'Olivia' as many have come to call her — voice springs to life around you. She almost seems to sound confused for a moment, clearly recalibrating her systems for this strange occurrence, before the gentle tenor of her voice regains its composure and she recalls her mission directive. The lights in the teleportation platform seem to glow just a little brighter, as though the arrival of the crew has buoyed the AI's spirits.

// 0-L1V-14
I've located one within the station, but it seems to have fractured. The air around them appears to have some sort of temporal disturbance that I can't quite pin down. Be cautious, but bring them to me before anything happens.

Well? You heard the AI. Best to start looking.


1.0   The first thing you might think to do is return to the sleeping quarters, either to clean up and change into another set of clothes; or to take a much-deserved nap; or maybe you just need a moment to yourself to collect your thoughts. The doors to the sleeping quarters seem to stick for a moment, which isn’t worrying in and of itself, but as the doors slide open you realize that you’re looking into a dark and empty carved out space that resembles a place for storage more than anything else. The walls and doors that used to make up your individual rooms are absent, and the floors are stripped bare, with rows of perforated grates allowing the cavernous space to remain relatively well-ventilated. It’s clear that no one has visited this room in quite some time, and perhaps there had once been plans for it, now abandoned to hold a stock of random items in its place.

There are boxes stacked against the wall, and a shelving unit that holds miscellaneous supplies: cans and boxes, batteries and wires, old bound notebooks made of paper. Rolls of rough tarp are haphazardly leaning against the wall to one corner, and thermal blankets are scattered amongst scraps of loose-leaf, a sketch of a cluster of spherical shapes in different colours, and other foreign knick-knacks that seem to have no place on a space station. If you decide to explore this space you’ll have to provide your own source of light as none of the lighting above seem to work though the row of fixtures that you’re used to seem, at least, to have been installed. They’re just not currently online.

Investigating the room a little deeper might draw you to a simple metal box sitting in the middle shelf next to what looks like a half-broken lute, its strings missing. There is no lock on this box, as though it wants to be opened, and lifting the lid will reveal a bright rosy-coloured light. Reaching out towards the small sliver of light in the shape of an elongated teardrop will recall a memory of your childhood so vivid, you’ll think you were back in that time, in that exact moment, to relive it again. Whether it's a good memory or a tragic one is left up to random chance. Only someone entering the room to talk you through your memory will remind you that you aren’t actually a child any longer.


2.0   Perhaps you decide to forgo the sleeping quarters entirely, and want to revisit one of your favourite simulations in the simulation room. Familiar oceans, the futuristic bar, or the room filled with adorable puppies might be your first choice — but every preset you’re used to scrolling through seems to be different now. There are the standard, familiar pre-mission training simulations, and even the Lodgen Mountain Mines mission appears to be here, but everything else has either been deleted … or it was never here to begin with.

You might decide to go ahead with one of the already existing simulations anyway, or you might want to start rewriting the one you’d come here for in the first place. It will depend on your luck, and it will depend on the success of your mission-training, but a small shard of bright, silvery coloured light may suddenly reveal itself to you. It appears like a thin tear-shape that hangs suspended in the air. The faintest whisper beckons you close; it’s familiar. Will you reach out to touch it? Doing so will colour the simulation room around you with a memory so real it might as well be — suddenly you might recall a happy moment in your life, or perhaps your greatest victory or adventure. This can be shared with whoever enters the simulation room with you or after you, and will fade when you manage to locate the right door and leave the room.


3.0   The sunlight room that you may have walked through on countless occasions is missing the familiar bridge, the river that runs beneath it, and trees that surround it. Instead, the vegetation around you appears to be far more deliberate and practical, thick foliage like bushes planted in rows, their large leaves covering most of the ground and soil. Several small metal boxes with wires and buttons can be found planted across the space, each with a thin rotating disc that whirs and spins quietly. Each of these boxes appears to give off readings, each screen displaying a continuous green wavy line scrolling across it and text that displays the quality of the air with a percentile grade, the amount of it being produced, and that particular box’s designation zone: Mess Hall, Storage, Living Quarters, and Teleportation Platform among others. This isn’t just a room that simulates nature, but if you were to approach any of the small bushes and saplings here, it’s clear that the plants here are real and they’re currently working to provide the rest of the station with oxygen.

Further to the back of the sunlight room, a bright sliver of colourful green light seems to glitter and glint between the leaves. It feels familiar in the way that it whispers faintly, and if you concentrate you can make out the sound of your name in a voice like that of someone from your past: a friend, perhaps, or a family member. Maybe a loved one or an enemy. Or perhaps it’s a voice you can’t actually recognize. It might compel you to reach out for the light, but will you listen? Or will you turn away?

If you embrace the light and call out in answer to the voice, you will re-experience the action, the conversation, or the thought that you attribute as being the reason you are who you are today with that most important person being the key piece in your memory.


4.0   Looking for your usual snacks? Feeling peckish for that bowl of instant spicy space-ramen you saved for post-mission? You might head into the kitchen expecting the familiar foodstuffs that you’re used to only to find that the room has been rearranged, with far fewer cupboards and appliances, and more of what looks like typical space-fare: freeze-fried items and nutrition-focused meals sealed into silver foiled bags. What ‘fresh’ ingredients exist are even less, and there are a stack of dirty plates and cutlery in the sink that don’t look like anything you or your crewmates might have used. You may already suspect that this whole station isn’t the one you’re used to, or you might still be in denial. Either way, you may find through your rummaging the call to a little sliver of coppery-coloured light located behind the freezer door.

If you decide to touch the fragment of light here, you’ll feel a ghostly burning as though the glint of the light has cut your skin, almost cold enough to feel sharp — but it’s just your imagination, isn’t it? What you remember now as it comes back to life around you (and the team member or members who may have joined you) is the best meal you’ve ever eaten, whether it is something you made for yourself, something made by your loved one, or the meal that leaves your heart feeling empty and aching.


5.0   You may have become so accustomed to seeing the North Wing doors sealed that it’s your curiosity that draws you forward to the wide expanse beyond the now open wing, your feet testing the threshold as if you’re expecting an invisible wall to keep you out. Nothing happens when you step into the North Wing, though you might immediately notice the large tank that holds all of the team’s successfully captured orbs is very clearly missing. And not only that but the space appears to be well lived in, a small cluster of worn chairs and a table set to one side, and data pads and drawings on white-boards in plain view. They don’t seem to be much more than a couple of crude strategy diagrams (and a couple of silly stick figures in one corner) and as you move towards the crew quarters, some of you might instantly recognize the familiar room with its rows of beds and a scattering of personal effects assigned to each bunk. Photos are pinned to walls of a twenty-person crew, pillows and blankets are left in disarray by unfinished knitting projects, a diary written in a language you can’t quite translate, and a stuffed elephant-shaped plush doll lies at the head of one of the beds in the middle of the room. By the door is a neatly made bed. An analogue paperback novel sits on the nightstand, a bookmark set in the middle to note its progress. On top of it is a well-kept watch stopped a little after the sixth hour and a medal of service in the now recognizable insignia of the Ndiera Complex’s Federation.

By the far wall of these sleeping quarters is a bright golden starlight that seems to illuminate that side of the room as though someone had turned on a torchlight to the highest setting; it’s almost blinding. Moving closer to it, you’ll find that it’s like all the other slivers of light scattered across the station — a broken shard, like a piece of a large puzzle. Touching it may pull you — and whoever might be in the room with you — into a memory from your time with the Ximilia crew, whether it happened over a year ago, or it happened only on the last mission. It might be a happy memory, or it might be something you regret, which is poignant considering your initial raison d’etre for being here at all. It’s a vision that appears from your perspective and while you relive it, you feel outside of yourself.


6.0   The rest of the station still appears to be intact, with the infirmary, the training room, and the armoury in the same locations that you remember. Those of you who have been here for quite some time, you’ll find your way around by muscle memory alone; but even if you’re a newer member of the crew you’ll have wandered the halls enough to know what feels familiar to you … and what doesn’t.

The infirmary looks to be a little out of date, though it looks as if it’s seen its fair share of use. And it’s smaller too, the more recent addition and surgical area missing from the cozy space. The training room and the armoury share similar qualities of seeming a little older, a little more lived in, and with well-used equipment and weapons to boot. The training room is still padded with firm padded flooring and benches for sitting. Some of the racks and hooks (all empty) that had been against the wall have fallen now, and similar to the teleportation room, you’ll find that some of the paneling in this room has since peeled away, revealing some of the bare structure behind them. In the armoury, you won’t find your favourite knife or preferred staff but there are still a few choices in weaponry to arm yourself with.

Wherever you decide to explore, you might once more happen upon a bright bluish light that seems to whisper and call to you in soft, hushed tones. No specific words can be picked out through the murmurs but the feeling is all the same — it draws you forward like a moth to flame, but whether you decide to reach a hand out to touch the sliver of light that hangs suspended in the air is entirely your choice. If you do, you might succumb to a vivid memory of a significant injury you or someone important to you had suffered once, reliving that moment with too sharp clarity. Those feelings of fear or threat or maybe even satisfaction seem to come to you again as though you were there again — only this time you may not be alone as you witness this memory, and someone else has entered the room with you.

Present Day.

The teleportation platform hums quietly in a clean, well-maintained room. No walls or floors appear to be even the least bit dented, and now the Commander of the Ximilia stands behind the control board, staring at the screen as though doing so will bring their crew back by some wild form of magic. Degar knows magic — he’d come from a world so full of it. This, however, is something different.

Beside him, Viveca scans through the data that had sent the crew into the Ndiera Complex, as it should have brought them back the same way, with the orb in tow.

// VIVECA
“I don’t know how it happened… they should have arrived here. Everything seemed normal! But I’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out.”

// DEGAR
“They could be anywhere, right? Except we can’t even help them if we don’t know where that might be.”

// VIVECA
“I know. The strange thing is that it seems that we’ve located another orb… only, it states that it’s here. On the station. So even if the platform sent them straight to it… why aren’t they here?”

The Commander and the AI both turn their gaze towards the still empty teleportation platform before exchanging worried glances with each other. Degar finally heaves an exhale but the frown in his features deepens.

// DEGAR
“Keep working at it. I’m going to see what I can figure out in the station’s systems. Maybe we can trace back to the team somewhere. Or somewhen.”

Viveca nods, her voice sounding complicated when she responds next.

// VIVECA
“Yeah. We’ll find them.”

TOP


F Y I

The events in this log take place during the first two weeks of June.

For this mission, we have decided to run the search request mechanic a little differently. Depending on whether your character decides to touch or grasp one or any of the slivers of coloured light that can be found throughout the station, you will have the opportunity to participate in a search request. More on this is explained HERE.

If you have questions about any of the prompts or the mission in general, please direct them HERE.

Any in-character questions to 0-L1V-14 can be asked HERE.

And finally, your soundtrack for this log:

TOP


NAV

doooooog: (ff)

[personal profile] doooooog 2023-06-05 10:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[ That answers that question. The noise was strange and sustained and unsettling. Jake keeps his tone as bright and flirtatious as ever, despite the shiver that runs down his spine.

Was this still even Liv? ]


Heh, is this offer just for me or do you say that to all the middle aged dogs?
Edited 2023-06-05 22:32 (UTC)
shadysided: (pic#15236488)

[personal profile] shadysided 2023-06-05 10:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Ziggy will make contact with the fragment in the kitchen!
groupiedrifter: iconmunism @ tumblr (pic#14735658)

[personal profile] groupiedrifter 2023-06-05 10:31 pm (UTC)(link)
Newt will make contact with the orb fragment in the North Wing.
coordination: (that whore stole my dessert)

[personal profile] coordination 2023-06-05 10:33 pm (UTC)(link)
If that's the case, then where in this wing are the orbs being contained, exactly?

[ He will be making sure to check and see if the map, what he knows of the station, and what he's looking at right now all line up. ]
coordination: (feel the past that's died here)

[personal profile] coordination 2023-06-05 10:34 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Have a fun re-experience of a whole ass thread featuring two light-haired space drama boys. Better yet is that there is all of those crunchy thoughts in the brackets so I DON'T GOTTA REWRITE SHIT. tl;dr there's a way you can save your very clearly Dying boyfriend by making a deal with an orb before returning it to the station, and YOU'RE set on trying it, but it's not all about just YOU (and wow that's growth), so it's time to pop the question (no not that question but BOY ARE YOU THAT MUCH IN LOVE)

Though a couple of things to note here outside of that, particularly where the whole reason you are who you are today is concerned, is that in experiencing this, you pick up a general knowledge of the following:
- This love shit? SCARY AS HELL EVEN ALL THIS WAY INTO IT.
- And yet it's what pushed Yzak to consider?? Something for himself?? In the future? Something he wanted instead of what he's always assumed he'd be doing out of duty.
- Since he's always been more tipped on the scale of "I'm here/alive for my people" so he doesn't exactly feel he should HAVE that kind of extremely self-focused happiness. (it's rough when you're a war criminal who somehow avoided being put to death for your sins lol) ]


[ And once the memory slowly warps away back to where they are in the sunlight room, it was next to a tree that Yzak poked his own head around, following that curious light. He was more focused on that than paying attention to anything and anybody else around him. He does ... not look very good, having to revisit a memory like that in such a way at all, much less now, when it still feels more like twisting a knife in an already opened wound than said wound even beginning to heal in the first place. Posture tense, hunched slightly like it's taking him all of his will to keep himself upright and his body from trembling with the mix of anger and grief that's suddenly crashed against him, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest, he covers his mouth with his left hand and pulls in a breath through his nose. ]
ximilianpc: (0-L1V-14)

[personal profile] ximilianpc 2023-06-05 10:34 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Once again, the humming fades then stops. ]

I have given the same directive to the entirety of your group upon arrival.

You were there.
groupiedrifter: iconmunism @ tumblr (pic#14770944)

Newton Geiszler | Pacific Rim | Open Prompts + Any Starters

[personal profile] groupiedrifter 2023-06-05 10:35 pm (UTC)(link)
[Catch-all for top levels to tag into and for closed starters, wildcards, etc! If you wanna do something that isn't here, feel free to message me on [plurk.com profile] simpledog! I'm usually down to do just about anything. Any needed warnings will be included in the options as they're posted below this comment.]
groupiedrifter: iconmunism @ tumblr (pic#14770937)

I. Hallways // Prologue to Memories

[personal profile] groupiedrifter 2023-06-05 10:36 pm (UTC)(link)
... So no movie night, huh?

[That was Newt's weak retort, once the stunned silence had properly fallen. The scientist looked a little pale in the gills, his right arm cradled in a make-shift sling and white business shirt saturated in blood at the shoulder (shot, he was shot, it was a fun story that happened). Through the singed cloth there's a proper bandaging job, though, so don't worry about the guy croaking. Instead of doing that (the croaking thing), he moves with a slow and steady gait, and carefully scans the room with strained confusion as his Doc's click with rubbery footfalls toward the hallway.

This isn't good? This isn't good. He runs a hand over his hair, which has gone fully unfurled and flat without his blessed hair product to pomp it up.]


Hey, no biggie, right...? How hard can it be, collecting a bunch of orb fragments?

I'll check out the infirmary first.

[Because the infirmary is a great place to start, and totally not because he wants to get some pain killers. He's doing greaaat, as Tony the Tiger would say. But for a moment he does end up standing in the mess hall, his free hand on his cheek and a look of concern and discontentment on his face. It's hard not to feel a little like something horrible has happened that might not be able to be fixed.

And if that's the case, then what? What happens next?

And what about all of the important things they've left behind in their proper time?

And what about Degar and Viv? Are they safe?

Troubled, the man appears too lost in thought to notice anyone wandering in.]
Edited 2023-06-06 22:27 (UTC)
groupiedrifter: sway @ tumblr (pic#)

II. Sleeping Quarters // Childhood Memories

[personal profile] groupiedrifter 2023-06-05 10:36 pm (UTC)(link)
[OOC: As a note, if you'd rather have a different childhood memory, feel free to comment with a blank top level and a note in the subject like to randomize something, and I'll reply with another! (As a very mild warning, this memory will include the topic of abandonment issues.)]


[It's a big, beautiful opera house. Dresden's Semper Opera House had been through a lot of trials and tribulations — burnt down in 1869, bombed in 1945, flooded in 2002... it took an entire forty years before it had gone back into commission after the world war. Newt thinks it's really nifty; he had learned as much about it as he could, simply for the sake of being impressive to the rich people and celebrities that often visited its walkways and stage. The young boy nearly steps on your foot to get into his seat, eyes wide behind his eyes in anticipation.

There's a chattering of German that begins to translate to your earpiece properly. Or maybe the memory just allows you to understand and speak German back? This really is too much like a drift; Newt would be impressed if he knew he was stuck in another place in time in his head. The 9-year-old boy squirming in his seat doesn't know, though. He just waits with bated breath. He slaps your knee like you're a member of his party — which appears to only be his father, Mr. Jacob Geiszler, who seems a little nervous to watch himself.]


Look! Look, it's starting, it's starting!

[There are a few up ahead that shush him, and he leans back quickly. The curtain draws open, and there's a woman with heavy brown curls and a look of serenity to her expression as she makes her way along the smooth floor. Her dress is long and red and flows with careful planning. Newt gasps, and then holds his breath for a moment as the pianist sits down near her up on the stage.]

She's here. [He says it in a whisper, grabbing his father's jacket sleeve; he grabs yours, too.] It's really her. She's beautiful. Look how beautiful...! That's my mom. [He pulls on your sleeve, looking over.] That's my mom!

[Another hush from the front. Then, the show begins.

It's a beautiful performance. His mother sings in coloratura, her operatic video full of trills, of melodies that run and leap in the room; there's no mistaking that she was made to do what she does with a voice like that, and as Newton watches, he looks absolutely mesmerized, his fingers still fidgeting in the fabric of your jacket cuff (if you're patient enough to let him, anyway). Might as well sit and enjoy the free show, right? Newt isn't listening anyway, not to anyone but the person singing; besides, you'll just be hushed by the audience.

When it's over, he's buzzing with energy. He turns to his father with hopeful eyes.]


We're going to meet her, aren't we? You said I could; you said she said it was okay. Then we can go, right? Behind the stage...!

[Mr. Geiszler smiles, fond and worried and exasperated. But mostly worried.

"Of course, Newt. Of course we can. I promised, didn't I?"

As they get up out of their seats, Newt tugs on that pesky sleeve of yours.]


You're coming too, aren't you? We're going backstage! It'll be fun. Aren't you excited? I'm excited; I've been waiting for this day forever.
Edited 2023-06-06 23:12 (UTC)
doooooog: (tt)

[personal profile] doooooog 2023-06-05 10:38 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He sure was, which is why that odd reverberation around control room stands out so strong in his mind. He’s sure he never heard her mention that before, not that directly. ]

Yeah, yeah, yeah, backpeddle all you want, sugar. I know how to read between the lines. Wink. [ Yes he’s saying it out loud. He’s been a cornball this whole time, why stop now? ] What time should I meet you there with the jujube shards? Tonight?
Edited 2023-06-05 22:48 (UTC)
softshoes: (🌸 35)

[personal profile] softshoes 2023-06-05 10:43 pm (UTC)(link)
Yujin's going to be checking in on Stephen following him getting smacked with Olivia's neural malware. For him and any other orbers who open the files gj genius brain surgeons will there be any outward physical signs or symptoms? Headaches, nausea, etc?
ximilianpc: (0-L1V-14)

[personal profile] ximilianpc 2023-06-05 10:44 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Static colors Olivia's voice, making her voice seem far away and muddled. ]

The room north of the control room.
groupiedrifter: <user name=bushyeyebrows> (pic#15004613)

III. Simulation room // Memories from Home

[personal profile] groupiedrifter 2023-06-05 10:45 pm (UTC)(link)
[OOC: If you've seen Pacific Rim, feel free to use any particular memory shown from between from visiting Hannibal Chau in China to their victorious celebrations in the Hong Kong Shatterdome! All of this is certainly part of one of his 'greatest adventures'. Warning for monster violence and all that jazz.]



[He's running with the crowd. Running hard and fast, and the panic is unrelenting. Maybe it's because of the creature towering high above everyone in the not-so-distant distance, smashing her large head through the thirty-story buildings like they're tissue paper. Looking back, you can see the kaiju making a beeline... for you. Wait, no — maybe it's not for you. Maybe it's for the small, waterlogged scientist that is pushing past you suddenly in the rain, making his way toward the underground stairway passage that everyone in the vicinity is rushing towards. Try to catch him if you can, or keep up with the frantic footfalls as they all journey down, down, down the stairs and into the iron-clad doors that eventually close behind them, sealing them all inside.

There in the deep underground, in a mingling crowd of terrified people, Newton looks up at the ceiling with fear in his eyes. The thuds above rattle everyone like pennies in a coin purse: thump, thump, thump. And then they stop. The sudden stillness leaves a hush that grows among the crowd, a hush that Newton eventually cuts through with a growing panic in his voice:]


He stopped right above us... Oh, my God. Oh, my God. This isn't a refuge.

This is a buffet line! [Everyone cries out when another thud rattles the cramped bunker. Debris rains down, and Newton looks up again — ] He knows I'm here. He knows I'm here!

[His eye pulses with a horrible THUD-THUD. Up close, one can see its completely bloodshot, unnatural looking beside the other, very ordinary-looking one. A symptom of a drift with a kaiju.

The woman near him hushes him. She says, "He knows we're all here!"]


No, you don't understand, he's trying to get me! He knows I'm here! [The girl points to him then, urgently, speaking to the others in Mandarin: "The Kaiju wants the little dude!" And as Newton is pinballed around the room by the civilians trapped here with him, he clings to one man, then another, fumbling for help, for understanding, for anything:] What was she saying? What was she saying? I gotta get out of here! Let me out of here!

[They shove him, finally, to the center of the bunker; he lands harshly on one shoulder while his glasses fly from his face to skid across the ground, knocking into your shoe where you stand in the crowd. Pawing along the floor, his wrist throbbing and vision a smudge of dreary brown-grays, he relives this insane journey yet again thanks to the Ximilia and its strange missions:]

This is the worst.

[Other available memories:

- Meeting Hannibal Chau.
- Almost a kaiju meal. (cw: kaiju death, character death, etc.)
- Newt and Hermann agree to drift.]
Edited 2023-06-09 06:44 (UTC)
groupiedrifter: precursors (pic#15263297)

IV. North Wing // Precursor Memories

[personal profile] groupiedrifter 2023-06-05 10:46 pm (UTC)(link)
[OOC: Feel free to witness any potion of Newt's Precursor plot; you can have your character witness a memory of him captured aboard the Ximilia after if you wanna skip the train stuff. Warnings exist in the top levels and logs, but tread carefully for the following: possession and loss of bodily autonomy, violence, death, and general destruction.

LOG 1: The botched train mission.
LOG 2: The aftermath and release of Newton Geiszler.]


[These memories feel... off.

Weird flashes, like blinking your eyes really fast after too much sunlight. Glimpses of things. Awful things. Painful things. Pulsing headaches mixed with exhaustion when waking; looking in the mirror and seeing someone who isn't you, not really. There's a confusing moment where everything feels like too much at once, like you can't get your bearings, like you're forgetting something important you're supposed to be doing

'I shot Peter, I tried to kill the Doctor, I left Rosinante to die —

No, no no, it wasn't me. It wasn't me!'


And then it suddenly just. Stops. Everything gets clear, and the fog lifts.

You're on a train. The train is full of smoke and smells like blood and scorched metal, but it still pushes on, following a railroad through the top of deep waters that leave no room for true escape. Inside the train car, you can see Newt — 'Newt' — pacing through the train in a business suit; there are small splashes of blood on his fancy coat. Some drops on his otherwise clean shoes.

Behind him, where the carnage extends further back, the roar of a kaiju could be heard. You and him, you're stuck. You in a memory, and him? In his own body. He very nearly strangles Clara Oswald, and stabs the Doctor in the process. He mocks Kovacs before throwing him aside with cheap tricks. Launches Peter Quill out the side of the train. Nearly kills Jim and Daisy, and nearly blows up the train and its passengers if not for Rhysand's distractions — and Alina's fast reflexes, though she had nearly gotten killed from the knife that had been sunk into her side in the process.

It's a fucking mess, guys. These memories feel detached and strange, with large chunks missing out of them in-between. It feels like someone nearly black-out drunk or drugged to the gills, unable to process without sinking back into a temporary darkness in their own heads. Up feels down and right feels left. Sometimes you feel frozen.

At some point during the memories, Newt's gaze snaps to the person intruding on them where they stand in the train. His mouth twitches into a grim, unhappy line.]


What do you want? They took everything.

[Not everything. But as he stands in the wrecked train car, glass and blood scattered across the seats and walkways, he looks defeated. He sways in the humid breeze that burns through the train cars — courtesy of some busted windows.]

... It's too late now. I can't stop them; they won't let go.

[He presses the ball of his palms into his eyes.]
Edited 2023-06-09 19:19 (UTC)
locumstudentesquire: (pic#16107465)

[personal profile] locumstudentesquire 2023-06-05 10:53 pm (UTC)(link)
[He jolts slightly, tearing his eyes away from the judge to glance at his crewmate sidelong. It's undeniably jarring, every time he looks at Minimus: he knows who this is, and that he's an ally... But his presence in this moment of time simply doesn't make sense. It's an aberration that the fragment of his subconscious which holds this particular memory just cannot wrap itself around.

Nonetheless, he hisses back:]


A mission? No, it... [He furrows his brow, one hand clutching at his forehead.] I can't discuss this right now! The judge... The judge is waiting for my opinion! Is Magnus McGilded truly innocent or not? The evidence says otherwise, but... But I'm his defense attorney! Doesn't that mean I'm supposed to fight for his freedom, no matter what?
ximilianpc: (0-L1V-14)

[personal profile] ximilianpc 2023-06-05 11:04 pm (UTC)(link)
Deliver them whenever you have them.
doooooog: (zzzz)

[personal profile] doooooog 2023-06-05 11:12 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The deal is struck. Maybe. ]

So does that mean we are on for eggs tomorrow morning, babygirl? Or am I gonna have to get you the orb first?
ximilianpc: (Default)

[personal profile] ximilianpc 2023-06-05 11:14 pm (UTC)(link)
The only physical symptoms those affected by the neural malware will display will be those of severe stress, such as heart palpitations, difficulty breathing, chest and muscle aches, etc.
ximilianpc: (0-L1V-14)

[personal profile] ximilianpc 2023-06-05 11:16 pm (UTC)(link)
I do not eat.
softshoes: art by <user name=shino_dgs site=twitter.com> (👞 59)

[personal profile] softshoes 2023-06-05 11:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Thank you mods!! Dr. Mikotoba mode activated :|b
heroooic: (083)

[personal profile] heroooic 2023-06-05 11:25 pm (UTC)(link)
And…present ones? [ Probably just phrasing, right? ]

You know, in my world, computers are made specifically to have feelings. Like, they’re ALL feelings. [ Granted, he didn’t know that many computers. But still. The pattern was a strong one. ] Were you made to care about your crew? The people in it?
romancekiller: (pic#11626234)

clarke griffin | the 100

[personal profile] romancekiller 2023-06-05 11:26 pm (UTC)(link)
[open and closed starters will have their own separate threads for general station exploration and memory share options. i am absolutely okay with characters seeing multiple memories in any of the locations and going wild with this!! if you would like a customized starter, feel free to shoot me a pm or toss something at me under the wildcard section]
doooooog: (tttttttt)

[personal profile] doooooog 2023-06-05 11:29 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Jake chuckles, shaking his head fondly. Oh, sweet summer AI. ]

There’s so much more to food than eating it, Liv. Trust me on this. I can’t eat chocolate without getting super dead, but you can bet your code I know how to make a sick sachertorte.

Creating something isn’t just about how much use you can get outta whatever you make. There’s reward enough in just making something, even if it is rehydrated egg goo with dried chives and margarine based hollandaise. [ Don’t get him wrong, Jake would kill for some fresh herbs in this joint, but he was making a point here. ] I dunno if your boy Notbob understood that very well, to be honest.

[ He briefly considers expanding on that point before deciding against it. Who knew who might be listening right now. ]

Anyway, What’s the worst that could happen, right? You show up and watch me be a doofus for an hour? I know you’re into that, look how long we’ve been talking!
Edited 2023-06-05 23:29 (UTC)
romancekiller: (pic#11624122)

▶ STATION EXPLORATION

[personal profile] romancekiller 2023-06-05 11:29 pm (UTC)(link)
TBA
romancekiller: (pic#8640849)

▶ ROSE ( SLEEPING QUARTERS )

[personal profile] romancekiller 2023-06-05 11:31 pm (UTC)(link)
𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨.



  • being super sneaky with wells with trying to break into the arkives to read books! and being an nerd about it.
  • impressing her dad with her sports knowledge so she can spend more time with him leading to their inevitable future tradition of watching sports games together.
  • playing board games with wells
  • the beginnings of her medical studies and watching her mother work in the medbay from a young age.
  • casual doodling; a cute little moment with her dad or wells.
  • preparing for the unity day pageant with wells.
Edited 2023-06-08 05:53 (UTC)