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

heroooic: (043)

Finn Mertens | Adventure Time | OTA

[personal profile] heroooic 2023-06-06 03:59 am (UTC)(link)
I. SLEEPING QUARTERS (XIMILIA STATION)
[ The low thrum of the Ximilia’s workings envelopes them, once again, welcoming them home. Only not home.

Everything was wrong. No Degar, no Viveca. Olivia greets them instead. The lean, sterile visage of the the station had been replaced with that of a derelict. Dust and peeling finishes, the strobing flicker of halogen lights that had either been installed hastily…or in bad need of maintenance. It was like an echo of the place they had known. A ghostly shadow that Finn couldn’t shake the feeling they didn’t belong in.

Exploration comes next; crew members carefully fanning out, driven by instinct or curiosity, to explore the familiar-yet-unfamiliar territory. Finn is drawn, like many, to the sleeping quarters first. The natural first destination after returning from any mission; a place to shower, to change clothes, to relax.

Only that was long gone, replaced with a very different space, brimming with questions, and very few answers. ]


Dude, where’s all our stuff? [ Finn asks to no one in particular, picking up an unopened can that had been tossed haphazardly on the ground. The label was faded and worn, the words in a language Finn didn’t recognize. They’d probably be taking their chances on mystery can No. 36 though, if you asked him. ] Not that that’s the issue here, but…

II. ROSE (CHILDHOOD MEMORY)
[ The entrance never materializes, but somehow you’ve found your way into some kind of cavern. No… a fort. Made from blankets and pillows, corridors and passageways stretching into improbably long tunnels. It felt big. Bigger than any blanket fort made by a child should plausibly be. The height of it seemed too great, the paths labyrinthian.]

You’re not supposed to be here! [ The insistent voice of a young child comes from behind you. ] Adventurers only.

[ When you turn toward the voice, you’ll see your crewmate: Finn. He was much younger than you knew him, no more than five or six, but still easily identifiable by his familiar hat. Less characteristic was the boy's hard stare, fixed accusingly in your direction. ]

III. SILVER (HAPPY MEMORY)
[ The simulation room was dark. Or maybe it was gone entirely. The way the orb shards warped reality was somehow even more jarring inside a room that, itself, could warp reality. Or, rather, create a convincing illusion of it.

The other end of the room is covered completely in that oppressive darkness. A groaning hum of electricity or power vibrates beneath your skin, in your teeth. The air smells of ozone… and something sweet, almost reminiscent of a fairground. On either side, the incomplete metal husks of hulking creatures lay prone. Control panels were splayed open, wires and cables criss-cross the ground. There are blueprints on a nearby worktable, but looking at them is impossible; they read out of focus, fuzzy like an image with a bad resolution. Attempting to study them for too long makes your head hurt.

Instead, you’ll notice that there is a girl looking into one of the control panels. She’s not identifiable as any member of the crew. Humanoid, but clearly not human, with long black hair. When she turns to face you, you’ll see that she’s missing most of her right arm. ]


Princess-- [ Her dark eyes search your face, a startled expression quickly replaced with a rigid scowl. ] Who are you? If you’re here to stop me…

[ Her conviction seems to waver, whatever it was she was here to do, she had her own doubts. ]

IV. GREEN (DEFINING MEMORY) Closed to existing CR.
[ The flawless metal floors of the Ximilia suddenly give way to smooth, hard stone beneath your feet, and you find yourself in a large, cavernous room. The walls are all weathered stone, set by hand many centuries ago. Above you, the ceiling sits too high to see no matter how much you crane your neck. The air here feels close, stiflingly warm and still with the faint musty smell of abandoned places.

Nearer the center of the room, cast in dark shadow, sat several objects that seem out of place, plucked from an entirely different time. A wooden chair, a metal baking tin filled with dirt, and a plastic bucket, filled with trash. ]


No, no, no!

[ Finn’s voice comes from behind you, and turning, you’ll see him throwing himself at a sealed stone doorway, his shoulder crunching painfully against the unyielding wall of it. Gripping his arm, he glares hard at the door. ]

You’ll be back in a month? With a new bucket of trash?

[ His voice was high with frustration, disbelief, hurt. An emotional cascade that he seemed unable to control, breathing hard. ]
Edited 2023-06-06 04:00 (UTC)
homeostatic: (pic#15320331)

[personal profile] homeostatic 2023-06-06 04:01 am (UTC)(link)
( It's the kind of thing he wishes he'd only ever seen in classrooms, a hypothetical for a medical ethics course, or something out of a history text, the shameful reality of a pre-Unified Earth. Before matter synthesizers made the cost of necessary medical equipment null and void, before bioprinters ensured that no one who needed a transplant would ever have to go without again. Before medicine could be detached from hideous things like profit margins, when treatments were discarded not out of consideration for a patient's health, but by the contents of their bank account.

Chishiya's got one Hell of a poker face now, but the defeat in the eyes of his younger self is unmistakable.

McCoy can't even begin to breathe a word of apology. He's appalled, any prior errand forgotten. )


Why, that miserable, greedy bastard, ( the doctor all but explodes. )
peasant: (alina-ep6-4)

[personal profile] peasant 2023-06-06 04:02 am (UTC)(link)
[ alarm sends her stumbling over her own skirts — ringed with dirt, now, where its hem mops along the floor's creaking grillwork. it's not animal panic, not quite; the echo of deja vu tickling her brain, like a dream that resists being remembered, dulls whichever part of her wants to register the voice as a threat.

the twang of it is too familiarly no-nonsense. a scowl curls alina's mouth, all the same, and grabs for the rusted handle of a — frying pan. not the most convenient choice of weapon, the strain in her willowy arm says, but it'll have to do. just as a precaution, if this gut instinct is proven terribly long.

after all, there should be nothing that remains of their crew, if this is what she's returned to.
]

Who's horsing around over here? Who's horsing around over there?

[ no voice could sound more petulantly imperious than alina's. unseen in the dark, she aims the frying pan outward as one would wield a sword, accusatory. ]
peasant: (alina-ep2-17)

[personal profile] peasant 2023-06-06 04:02 am (UTC)(link)
[ the flashlight offers only a feeble beacon of light to see by, but the surprise doesn't go unmissed. neither does the loss of it as chishiya extinguishes it, like a flickering candle blown out by a harsh wind. for reasons she can't place her finger on, it stings under her skin, with the same slice of a papercut.

not grievous, but annoying and sharp in its own right.

his nonchalant tone doesn't improve it. if anything, it magnifies, even as she shoves it aside. just another piece to be shoved into one of these dusty boxes and left ignored. her gaze swivels around pointedly at the walls, the flooring, the debris of this room — lived-in, perhaps, but it carries all the eeriness of a tomb.
]

How late?

[ muted alarm mingles with her bafflement to pitch her voice high, reedy. her return can't be that delayed; he's still here, still looking no older than the last memory she has of him, but the station tells her otherwise. ]
blackfire: (itachi018)

[personal profile] blackfire 2023-06-06 04:06 am (UTC)(link)
can i snag a rando silver? c: for fun and for profit, pick whatever seems to make sense given their cr!!
deaddrop: (pic#13351832)

[personal profile] deaddrop 2023-06-06 04:13 am (UTC)(link)
[Is it possible to be startled by something you know is going to happen? She's not completely unaware of Itachi's presence—she's hyperaware of observers who may have been included in that performance.

She shouldn't be surprised.

So there must be another reason that she flinches, briefly, the expression quickly repressed, when he touches her. It passes quickly, gathering herself.

She nods before she says anything, not trusting her voice at first.]
dispassioned: (pic#16302413)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-06 04:16 am (UTC)(link)
[It's hard to tell in the dark, but he suspects he's irritated her. His coping mechanisms causing problems again.

He lets it go for now, though. Realistically, she needs to be brought up to speed.

He takes a breath and looks around. She probably thinks she's been gone for years.]


Only a couple of days. This is...a different time. The past, apparently. Or a version of it.
bindsthedead: (art-explaining)

Green, bringing someone back to life

[personal profile] bindsthedead 2023-06-06 04:18 am (UTC)(link)
homeostatic: (193)

[personal profile] homeostatic 2023-06-06 04:23 am (UTC)(link)
( Bones lets go the breath he'd been holding, easily recognizing her voice. haints, he rolls his eyes at himself. )

...oh, Lord Above. Alina?

( there's shit everywhere, he realizes with sudden dismay, the clutter surrounding him mostly his own doing. so much for organizing. the box he'd been loading on his left goes shoved aside, groaning a protest as it scrapes across the grates, and he begins to pick his way around to where it sounds like she's stationed. his light is... not much help, but it's better than nothing, as long as it keeps him from tripping over unseen detritus. )

Hold tight, I'm comin' to you.
peasant: (alina-ep1-2)

[personal profile] peasant 2023-06-06 04:26 am (UTC)(link)
The past.

[ disbelief worms through her echo. it's not that he's proven himself untrustworthy — only that it sounds patently ridiculous. unfeasible. and it would be, if alina weren't so cognizant of how impossible this has all been, to begin with.

no more than a handful of minutes aboard, and she's already entertaining the dull sensation of a headache where it pounds at her temples, demanding entry. she pinches her fingers between the bridge of her eyebrows to ward its thumping off, to little success.
]

And how do we know it's not the future? No insult to Viveca meant, but this ...

[ a hand sweeps out, gesturing. the peeling walls. the abandoned supplies. alina's mouth thins with a momentarily hopeless sheen. expecting even the smallest vacation after the fold's destruction had been begging the universe for too much, evidently. ]

Seems a bit much for anyone to have cleaned up before the first of our arrivals. I've never seen it like this.
Edited (editing for clarity bc awkward phrasing) 2023-06-06 04:35 (UTC)
dispassioned: (pic#16296976)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-06 04:28 am (UTC)(link)
[Chishiya isn't exactly surprised by McCoy's disapproval, though the vehemence of it is a little startling.

But Chishiya has a talent for non-reaction. In part, because of what McCoy just witnessed and in part because of Borderland. Classic "conceal don't feel" coping mechanism. All he does is take a breath and sigh.]


Well, I tried to tell you.

[A little bit. He alluded to it. Why he didn't rush to volunteer his services at the Ximilia's infirmary when he arrived.]
dispassioned: (pic#16362906)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-06 04:46 am (UTC)(link)
[He'd be inclined to disbelieve it too, if he hadn't dealt with this sort of shit before. Absurd situations that don't make sense. Time and space feeling incongruous. He realized a long time ago anything is possible. He's just relieved by the lack of death games.

So far.]


The AI. Olivia? She greeted us and told us we're different from the crew that she normally deals with and there's a fractured orb here causing a temporal disturbance.

[He wanders further into the room, idly fidling with the boa she threw at him.]

After looking around a little, it seems like this is what the station was like when Viveca and Degar were crew members. There are some pictures in the North Wing and overall the technology here is less advanced than what we're used to.
Edited 2023-06-06 04:55 (UTC)
doooooog: (qqqqqqq)

[personal profile] doooooog 2023-06-06 05:02 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's impressive, how convincing her voice might be if Jake couldn't see her. The rattled look in her eye was a strange mirror of the little girl from the memory; bridging that young face to the grown one he knew now. ]

C'mon. [ He offers, voice a perfect blend of skepticism and kindness. ] Don't do that.
doooooog: (dddddddd)

[personal profile] doooooog 2023-06-06 05:11 am (UTC)(link)
[ Stepping into the yard, Jake feels reality close behind him like a shutting door. Spring air mingled with unfamiliar botanical scents; wood and flours and pond water. Jake could've spent hours and hours exploring each inch of the yard, unearthing each inch of untold stories it held.

Only when Jake dipped down to sniff the smooth stone path beneath him, he's surprised to find it indistinct.

Oh, yeah. Realization hits after a moment, looking back up at the familiar young boy and his father. Duh. Humans can't smell for crud. ]


Arf!

[ Jake barks in greeting, opting for the same stealth he'd grown accustomed to on their last mission. Better safe than sorry.]
homeostatic: AH (266)

lil bit after jim's had another visitor?

[personal profile] homeostatic 2023-06-06 05:17 am (UTC)(link)
( It pains him to be away from Jim, even if it's to be useful somewhere else. 'Needs must when the Devil drives', as his Gran used to say, rolling up her sleeves when it was time to tackle one onerous task or another, and so he did the same. Today, it meant scaring up towels and hygiene supplies.

He lets his footsteps land heavier on the floor, the scuff of boots over metal grating, hoping it's enough of an announcement of his presence before he ever speaks a word aloud. )


Hey, Jim, sorry I'm late, ( Bones says at last, keeping his voice pitched low. It galls the doctor that he can't do more for him, that they just have to wait. He flops down onto the pallet beside Jim, the cloth bag in his arms rustling as he shifts it from his shoulder to his own lap. )
peasant: (alina-ep6-1)

[personal profile] peasant 2023-06-06 05:34 am (UTC)(link)
Could you trouble your Lord Above for a light?

[ — which begs the question of why, precisely, she isn't shining hers around the room like an infernal beacon. alina's panicked inner critic scolds her for it — and chides her more for how swiftly she braces herself with lie upon lie, excuse upon excuse. pieces of armor to prevent anyone from learning the ugly, grotesque truth.

her grasp on that tarnished, discolored handle tightens minutely — and promptly slackens, in turn, as what little light he provides ignites around his face. frames it like a halo in the shadows, even. some recognition flickers in her like a candle struggling to say lit, before:
]

Leonard.

[ face to name, name to face. it escapes her, for the moment, that it may be far too familiar and personal, no matter how drift had addressed him. her weapon-arm sags in relief, no longer loaded with the trigger strength of a frying pan ready to become a projectile. ]

You're lucky. I was coming to terms with having to clobber a stranger in the dark.
deaddrop: (pic#15038377)

[personal profile] deaddrop 2023-06-06 05:36 am (UTC)(link)
A funny thing, the peaches are the first thing Natasha smells in years. She figures because it's not real, because that summer golden scent is something McCoy remembers, she gets to share it too.

She might have to thank him for that later.

Now, her attention doesn't stay on the fruit long. A part of her is aware that it's every bit as much an invasion of privacy as the worse memories are, that she should make herself as unobtrusive as possible, and yet it's hard to tear herself away from the sight. Imagine Dr. McCoy so young. Ten minutes ago, she's pretty sure she wouldn't have been able to picture it, but seeing him... somehow it makes sense.

She reaches out to catch the fruit, wondering if she'll be able to pick it up.

"That's a neat trick," she compliments him on the peeling. "Even if this one got away."
peasant: (alina-ep1-1)

[personal profile] peasant 2023-06-06 05:42 am (UTC)(link)
Oh. [ disdain coats in her voice, faltering to a lower pitch. ] Olivia.

[ not a fan, evidently. but then — neither had she been a fan of viveca, and all of her easy access to files upon files of personal information. another violation not unlike dirty hands rifling through her diaries, her letters, until no secret had been left unturned by kirigan.

distantly, she recognizes she had still hoped to see viveca, all the same. some comfortingly familiar presence. someone who could bring her one step closer to mending ravka's leftover scars. she loosens a breath, sagging with the apparent weight of it.
]

So why are we still here? [ if it sounds impatient, bordering on tetchy toward the situation — well, it is. surely they're not sitting about wasting time. she slaps her hands together, a clap of dust puffing up from the satin. ] There are only so many places the orb can wander. How hard must it be to piece it back together?

[ famous last words, alina. ]
Edited 2023-06-06 05:42 (UTC)
deaddrop: (pic#15027548)

[personal profile] deaddrop 2023-06-06 05:48 am (UTC)(link)
[She starts to say that she's not doing anything, or to ask what it is that he thinks she's doing—something like that. She's not quite sure what shape the words would take, but they're absolutely reflexive. Like she needs to make her own feelings as small as possible, the dismiss and minimize them.

She catches herself, though, taking a slow breath as she steadies her nerves.

Instead she asks,]


What do you want me to do?
jedied: (237)

Rey | Star Wars

[personal profile] jedied 2023-06-06 05:51 am (UTC)(link)
Custom starters will be written for all who would like to experience one of the following, just so I'm not writing the same exact memory for everyone. Each can be claimed once and they're OTA except as noted; if you want something else hit me up via DM or Plurk and I'll come to you!

1. Rose Light
a. the memory of her parents leaving
b. the first time she was trapped away from home while scavenging

2. Silver Light
a. Being offered a job by her childhood hero, Han Solo.
b. Actually flying the Millennium Falcon; get your spaceship nerdery here!

3. Green Light
a. [closed to Obi-Wan: Rey touches the Skywalker lightsaber and hears some voices she doesn't entirely recognize.]
b. Rey's mother gives her very specific instructions.

4. Copper Light
a. the time Unkar Plutt left an entire crate of portions as silent repayment for saving his ass. This one's a little sadder and more likely to make Rey prickly about it!

6. Blue Light
a. that time she sliced Kylo Ren's face open. She'll be really prickly about this one; get your weird tense CR here!
b. the time she fell off the top of an old starship as a teen and got mildly impaled on some metal. this one's only a little embarrassing!
doooooog: (hhhhhhhh)

[personal profile] doooooog 2023-06-06 05:54 am (UTC)(link)
If there was any part left of Jake that doubted the man before him, it's erased when his voice sounds out its warning through the stagnant air of the cabin. It bounces off the walls, off Jake himself, staying his approach.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he assures, keeping his voice as firm and clear as he could. The eerie light from the windows caught the shine of tears on Yujin's cheeks, creating the impression of rivers of light. "I'm here to help, alright? I'm your friend."

A weak reminder in the wake of Yujin's horrified young face, but Jake was armed with little else.
dispassioned: (pic#16370914)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-06 06:01 am (UTC)(link)
[He squats down in the pile of junk rummaging around for anything useful in the mess Alina made.]

Harder than you'd expect. There are consequences to touching them.
doooooog: (bb)

[personal profile] doooooog 2023-06-06 06:03 am (UTC)(link)
[ I am tempted in too many directions, can I get a totally random dice roll?? Hit me up on plurk if you need more specific guidance, I just can't choose! ]
cruelyethuman: (pic#15494721)

The Darkling / Aleksander Morozova | Shadow and Bone

[personal profile] cruelyethuman 2023-06-06 06:11 am (UTC)(link)
[Using this for W I L D C A R D options, toplevels will follow below.

If you want to talk plot, I can be found at [plurk.com profile] ireth]