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

peasant: (alina-ep2-9)

[personal profile] peasant 2023-06-06 10:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[ her expression doesn't shift. the frown lines etched into her mouth only emphasize her dubiousness, the longer she scrutinizes his plunging neckline. ximilia's recirculated air can't be that comfortable, a thought bolstered by the cool brush of it over her prickling arms, but —

something tells her he'd arrogantly wave off her insistence, regardless. it's not a fight worth having, in her weary state. the sooner she can free herself and change, the sooner she can collect the scattered pieces of this orb — and the sooner they can return, with any stroke of fortune, to their own point in time.

or ... whatever it is. her mind still can't wrap itself around temporal anomalies without inducing a migraine.
]

Famous last words.

[ but she clutches the hoodie to her chest, in spite of it, as she pivots to allow him access to her back. laces wind up her spine there, too — like an entrance gate that needs to be unlatched, first. ]

Alright, then. Here's your next challenge.

[ she does not sound particularly hopeful. no offense to chishiya, but she highly suspects his knowledge in ladies' fashion and undergarments is not quite so thorough. but if he wants to struggle a little for her sake, then — well, she's grateful for the attempt. misery loves company, and all that. ]
Edited 2023-06-06 22:22 (UTC)
rootlessly: (pic#16506364)

rose // ota

[personal profile] rootlessly 2023-06-06 10:26 pm (UTC)(link)
♫ i. duets

There's a little blond boy playing the piano. It could be easy to mistake him for Vash, but upon a closer look, his coloring is a little more muted, his eyes closer to green than blue. Also of note, perhaps, is the gray skin with white markings that begins at his neck and extends down to his fingers and toes -- aside from these, he looks entirely human. Soon enough, another little blond boy joins him, giving him a light shove to move as he slides onto the piano bench beside him and joins in on the song; the first boy seems mildly annoyed while the newcomer grins, but they don't miss a beat. It's a beautiful, haunting melody, slow and sad in places and almost frenzied in others, and it's as if the world is narrowed to only the two of them. They don't notice anyone else come in until the song ends.

🎂 ii. happy birthday

It's like a memory within a memory, if it could be called as such. A young woman with black hair watches a video on a tablet: a birthday cake is on the table with a single candle within it. Two young boys, appearing maybe 5 or 6 in age sit at it, wearing matching pink birthday hats. For all they look nearly identical, though, their expressions are very different, with one enthusiastic and excited as the other looks puzzled and vaguely skeptical.

"Today is the twins' first birthday!" exclaims the young woman, evidently the camerawoman here. "It's already been a year, huh? It really went by in a flash."

One of the boys squints at his glass, uncertain. "You made food for me again." The other, meanwhile, bounces in his seat impatiently, fork and spoon in either hand. "Come on, let's eat already!"

"I don't need to eat like Vash does."

"Hey, I'm a plant too!" pouts his twin, though he's clearly too excited about the food to be properly offended.

"This is such a waste."

"It doesn't matter whether you eat it or not," interjects the young woman, in that age-old admonishing tone anyone who's had a mother would recognize. "It's about making sure everyone gets a share. It isn't a waste at all."

Of course, perhaps just as familiar as an admonishing parent is the mischief of kids, and suddenly, the scolded boy informs the woman that the recording light is off, to his brother's agreement. She turns the recording device toward her immediately to check, only to discover she's been had--to peals of laughter from the two of them.

In the "present", those same two boys sit down beside her. The boy who had been more skeptical speaks up first, smiling with obvious affection. "You're watching that again? You're such a doting parent."

"Oh, didn't you know?" she grins with a wink, lofting the tablet high. "I'm the most doting parent in the universe, of the cutest twins in the universe!"

"Let's do a birthday party again next year."

"You must be joking."

She grabs them both up in a hug, then, pulling them close. "We will. For sure."
Edited 2023-06-07 08:44 (UTC)
deaddrop: (pic#13347546)

[personal profile] deaddrop 2023-06-06 10:41 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, I'd hate to besmirch your honor.

[Lockwood's attention doesn't exactly help. Natasha's not sure at this point there's much to help what happened then, and she's always guarded about her past.

She prefers not to make it anyone else's problem.

But it doesn't hurt either. It's a distraction, at least, and it illustrates something she was rather beginning to suspect: Lockwood is a good kid. Giving a little nod, she allows herself to be lured out of the area.]


I don't know if we'll have any luck with tea and biscuits if the rest of the station is like this, but if this is going to be something that pops up, probably better to be prepared.
deaddrop: (pic#13347552)

[personal profile] deaddrop 2023-06-06 11:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Interesting.

[She'd be lying if she said she wasn't curious. She'd also be lying if she said she didn't understand the desire for privacy. She's gotten used to the idea that Viveca is aware of anything that happens on the station or over the network, but she hadn't been comfortable with it at first.

It might be a stretch to say she's comfortable with it now, but Olivia is without a doubt worse.

After a moment, she'll nod.]


Sure. I'll trust you.

[Because she is sure there's a risk. A realm of his making... the only reference point she could think of for that was Wanda.

But considering that reference point, she still says yes.]
dispassioned: (pic#16249584)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-06 11:31 pm (UTC)(link)
Maybe so.

[It's true that he hasn't done this before, but he doesn't sound especially concerned. He's tied his share of surgical knots. And he taught himself a little mizuhiki one summer when he was a child because he was bored. Mostly for the challenge rather than because he had any particular hope of using them for gift giving.

Still untying is different than tying and he knows that. But in truth, he could use the distraction. He's been toeing a line precariously close to anxiety the last couple of days and having a tactile problem to focus on might be good for him. Working with his hands and solving puzzles is soothing for him. There's a reason he took to inventing his own weapons in Borderland. It was a convenient distraction from stress.

Though, the most frustrating aspect about this might be the darkness. He grabs the flashlight rather than requesting Alina illuminate the room. He assumes there's a reason she hasn't done that already. He shines the light on the laces of her corset, tilting his head thoughtfully.

The most logical place to start would be with the bow, he thinks, so he does that working it loose gently with his fingers. Though as he does, he has to comment:]


I'm not sure why this was necessary. You're already tiny.
swordandshield: (152)

A.

[personal profile] swordandshield 2023-06-06 11:52 pm (UTC)(link)
[This whole explore the station and get bombarded by memories--they were memories, he was pretty sure by now--was beginning to get old. He tried to avoid people for two reasons: he didn't want to watch other people's embarrassing lives, and he didn't want anyone seeing any of his whether awesome or not. There was just too much chaotic chance for something to slip past that wasn't acceptable for others to know.

And yet he couldn't stop running into these things. Well. That was life, wasn't it.]
peasant: (alina-ep2-10)

[personal profile] peasant 2023-06-07 12:16 am (UTC)(link)
[ not the first time that word has been uttered in reference to her, though it's often been accompanied by much less flattering implications. habit irks her nose into wrinkling on an automatic impulse. sticks. small. little. the dainty bird-bones in her wrist seem to agree as they pin themselves to her chest, leverage to prevent her toppling forward from his tugging's momentum.

she makes a petulant sound in her throat, anyway. tries — and fails — to stand straighter, like an indignant bird puffing itself up to appear larger. a mistake, alina quickly learns; it only stiffens her posture into something further uncomfortable.
]

It could be the seamstress wanted an excuse to torment me.

[ in hindsight, perhaps she should have called upon genya — but even as she thinks it, she can't stomach the very notion of asking the other woman to relive her days of endlessly pampering queens. besides, it's a better answer than admitting all of their fussing and talk of fashion had sailed over her head.

it seems ravka only remembers the orphan girl she had been when it's convenient to sell her story. with a shrug that's hindered by the fabric:
]

I think our world's concepts of acceptable undergarments differ greatly. [ what she wouldn't give for a modern sports bra at this very moment, tbh. with some strain, her neck arches to the side, trying to cast a curious glance over her shoulder. ] How is everything back there?
laviny: (016)

[personal profile] laviny 2023-06-07 12:26 am (UTC)(link)
[Unfortunately for Felix, he happens to wander into the infirmary just as Yelena makes contact with the shimmering blue light there. Which means, he’s getting treated to another memory. This one, to be exact.

Two sisters, reunited after years apart, fighting like (extremely skilled) wild cats, neither one willing to back down until they’re both strangling each other.

As the memory fades, Yelena looks vaguely exasperated.]


Oh, this shit again. Fantastic.

[Okay so it’s not exactly like Kilnan, but close enough. At least this didn’t feature the Red Room.]
Edited 2023-06-07 00:27 (UTC)
essenceofdeadlybeasts: (200)

[personal profile] essenceofdeadlybeasts 2023-06-07 12:44 am (UTC)(link)
[It's a gruesome sight, and no matter how many times Zhao has seen the death of another--been the cause of it on more than one occasion--this was not a scene that he could watch without reaction. At first it takes him a moment to adjust to the sudden jolt into the other-world like quality of the memory. Then it takes him a second to recognize what was happening, and the horror dawns on his face like slow motion. Then he recognizes Andy and time sped back up.]

Andy-san!!

[He struggles against the crowd. What was happening? Why were they doing this? What was going on? For a moment he's lost in the vision. Doesn't matter he's experienced this odd sensation once or twice before already, doesn't matter that they've all noticed it happening on board the station by this point in time, doesn't make a difference in his mind right now.

He has to get to his friend. He doesn't want to watch her die again. Neither of them deserve that fate.]
essenceofdeadlybeasts: (095)

C.

[personal profile] essenceofdeadlybeasts 2023-06-07 12:48 am (UTC)(link)
[It didn't get better with each memory played out in front of his eyes. Sometimes they were so vivid he reacted as if he could change the way they played out--sometimes they were so dream-like he just stood and watched as if some phantom floating in some far-away place watching through a hazy glass the world before him that he didn't belong.

Whatever the case, it was always a surprise. Whether he walked into the memory from another room or walked into a room with someone else and got caught up in it.]
dispassioned: (pic#16249585)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-07 01:13 am (UTC)(link)
[He notices the change in posture, feels her straighten indignantly as he traces the laces of her corset with his fingers.]

Sorry. I didn't mean it as a bad thing.

[His tone is sincere. He certainly has no complaints about the size or shape of her. It just seems excessive for it to be this tight. He has a feeling Kuina would have some opinions on how it's laced up. He wonders if Alina is right about the seamstress having it out for her or if she was just incompetent.]

Some women in my world wear corsets, but it's usually because they want to. A fashion statement.

[Now that the bow is untied, logically, the next step should be to loosen the laces. At the very least that should give her room to breathe. He feels his way down to the bottom of the corset and starts working the laces loose where they criss-cross.

At her question, he quirks an eyebrow.]


It's fine.

[He sounds pretty zen, actually. It's not going quickly, but it's going, and as he expected it's, soothing.

This is probably the most inwardly calm he's been since they ended up here.

His lips twitch a little, ruefully amused.]


You don't think I can do it.

[He doesn't sound offended, it's just an idle observation.]
essenceofdeadlybeasts: (149)

[personal profile] essenceofdeadlybeasts 2023-06-07 01:13 am (UTC)(link)
[He's not certain when to break the silence. Does it need to be broken? Does it need to last longer? Does anything need to be said at all? It seemed wrong both ways somehow. Like he shouldn't intrude (too late, already happened whether either of them wanted it or not); like if he didn't say anything it was rude (a lack of compassion, an indifference that he didn't feel despite the loss of words in the moment).

He felt the squeeze of her hand in his hand and kept the tension in his body away from her perception. She deserved that much. And so much more. He rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand, and concentrated on the feeling of it, on waiting for the right moment to speak up or for her to cue him in some manner.

He was here. His entire essence conveyed that simple message to her as they stood, silent, together, letting the memory fade from the air and into the recesses of their minds. To be breached only when they were ready.]
essenceofdeadlybeasts: (207)

[personal profile] essenceofdeadlybeasts 2023-06-07 01:24 am (UTC)(link)
[This was more than just a surprise this time--it was almost a shock, but Zhao's mouth slowly starting to move in an indeterminate direction as the gangster attempted to keep the usual expression from gracing his features. That sly, lopsided smirk that meant so many things in so many different situations. He couldn't help it. This was amusing and ridiculous in the way that serious things were not at all either of those things.

Zhao's eyes darted to Mikotoba and he barely kept his eyes from widening as he took in the image of the younger version of the man Zhao had met on the Ximilia. He tensed briefly as a jolt from the racing carriage offset his balance in a way he wasn't expecting. His fist relaxed as they continued uninterrupted.

His gaze darted over the other men in the carriage and landed back on Mikotoba in the end. Took in the sight of him. Wondered what the words meant. Wondered if...he blinked and tried to keep the surprise off his face. Wondered what he looked like inside this dream-memory-vision playing out. And if Mikotoba could be, or should be at all, made to realize it wasn't really happening right now.

He didn't say anything for the moment, merely nodded in acknowledgment and then once more, hesitantly, at the question realizing it needed an answer.]
Fine.

[Petulant. Was he supposed to sound petulant and annoyed right now? He kind of felt that he came off that way. Maybe it was just the memory playing out.]
Edited (wrong sholmes, my bad. here you go) 2023-06-07 03:11 (UTC)
essenceofdeadlybeasts: (208)

[personal profile] essenceofdeadlybeasts 2023-06-07 01:36 am (UTC)(link)
[The memory wasn't too long all things considered. There was another moment of merriment as the group broke out into laughter over some silly antics, and an argument over who got to cut the duck, and who got what piece. Ridiculous conversation that only a true group of friends displayed.

The whole dinner probably played out something like that. As the memory faded, Zhao was left standing there gazing into the empty space left behind with a small smile on his lips, a bit of a wistfulness in his eyes. He sensed the presence of Lockwood more than saw or heard him, and eventually turned to meet the young man's eyes. His smile widened amicably.]


Joke's kinda make reality easier to swallow, you know. It's not gonna hurt me if you use them. [He reassured the youth. He rolled his eyes at the sentiment but there was a reluctance to the animation as if he really wasn't bothered by it either. Like he really was soft beneath the hard shell he displayed.] I grew up in one actually so I cook as if I were part of the kitchen crew. My grandma though... her recipes were the best.

[Perhaps admitted at the end to agree with the sentiment after all.]
peasant: (alina-ep1-5)

[personal profile] peasant 2023-06-07 01:44 am (UTC)(link)
That's not true. I think there's very little you couldn't do once you're determined enough.

[ it propels out of her without thought. or ... not wholly true, at the very least. and though he's far too lax to state it with any accusation attached, alina's voice projects a certain amount of defensiveness. not for her own sake, strangely — but for his.

she hardly wants to be counted amongst the names of his parents, slotted neatly into a category of those that had never given any support. had expected he should trip into his failures and accomplishments alone, without acknowledgment or a cushion to fall back on.
]

I just think we're going to be here awhile. Men's fingers tend to be less ... [ how does she say this kindly, and with tact. ] Gifted at lacing.

[ nailed it. that's all to say: she doubts he's ever had much reason to fiddle with corsetry and gowns, for all of his known dexterity. with inexperience comes some expected stumbling, and expected suffering along the way. her mouth droops, almost as though it's disappointed with his assessment, though her tone does soften in gradual increments. ]

I'm only counting down the minutes to my freedom. [ a touch more wryly, ] And hopeful you won't decide your hands are too tired to continue.
Edited 2023-06-07 01:45 (UTC)
essenceofdeadlybeasts: (182)

[personal profile] essenceofdeadlybeasts 2023-06-07 01:49 am (UTC)(link)
[Zhao didn't look much different in the memory versus how he looked on the Ximilia in real time. The memory was only two years old at most. It somehow seemed like more and less at the same time. Like it hadn't been that long ago since he'd last been with his group of friends, the ones forged in fire as they banded together under unusual circumstances. And yet he knew he had been on the space station for almost two years now and it had been that long since this meal. How crazy was that to think about.

He remembered the food tasted good. Not because he had nailed the recipe perfectly so much as because it was a night of celebration and comradery. They had a good time, and that made the food that much better tasting for it.

The memory faded. Zhao was standing again in the kitchen on the station. It was mostly empty compared to what he knew. Except now there was a person here with him. He glanced to the side and caught sight of Aleksander. He smiled and offered a shrug noncommittally. What does one really say after a vision like that plays about their former life? Perhaps at a loss where to start, or what to expect, Zhao let Aleks steer the situation.]
rootlessly: (pic#16506617)

silver // ota

[personal profile] rootlessly 2023-06-07 01:53 am (UTC)(link)
🌸 iii. i'm right here

(cw: child in a cell)

Alarms blare in the hallway alongside angry red warning lights. Various voices can be heard shouting in alarm, though it's impossible to make out the words -- at least, until a young man and woman arrive at a sealed door against which a blond child seems to throw himself, banging against it with hands bound in cuffs.

"Hey, did something happen to the plant?!"

The two at the cell door wonder how he knew, but think little of it, the young woman trying to excuse herself to leave when the boy cries out again--

"Its voice! I can hear it! The plant is calling out for help!"

"Don't trust him," interjects the man, seeing his companion's reaction, "He's just making stuff up to get out."

"Let me meet the plant! Its voice is fading!"

The man continues to resist, even kicking the door once as the boy keeps pleading to see the plant, but the woman--Luida, as he calls her, as he protests--seems less ready to dismiss him.

"You heard the reconstruction earlier, right? I don't know who Rem was, but...she sacrificed herself trying to stop that great crash. I'm sure it's safe."

The man reaches out, placing a hand on her shoulder to stop her, but she shrugs him off to unlock the door.

"Rem trusted him. I do, too!"

If it were ever truly a gamble to release the child, it clearly pays off. He walks straight to the case in which the alien creature floats, pressing his palms and forehead up against it as he speaks soothingly to the creature, which responds in kind, though it doesn't speak. Markings appear on the boy's face that match the ones down his arms and legs.

"I can hear you, don't worry."

Light floods the hallway, as the tank shifts from red to blue, the alarms and warning lights fading in turn. The boy pays no heed to any of it, focused solely on the creature in the tank.

"I'm right here."

🏠 iv. our home

The boy in the memory, this time, appears to be about thirteen or fourteen. For anyone who's seen one of the other memories, they'll note the gray skin and markings are absent from his arms and legs, as well. The room is mostly bare, save for a number of photos put up on the wall. He sits on a bed in an equally plain white shirt, writing something in a notebook, when there's a knock on the door, and a woman appears, bringing out a red jacket from behind her back.

"Ta-da! This is for you, Vash! It's from everyone on Ship Three."

The boy looks delighted, holding it up to admire it before eventually hugging it close.

"Wow, it's brand new! Clothes are so hard to get. ...What a pretty shade of red.

"Is it too flashy?"

"No, I like red. Rem did too. She raised lots of red geraniums.

Perhaps that's a little strange, the idea of cultivating flowers aboard a spaceship, but Vash had always valued them, and now they feel like a symbol of her memory. Being given something like this feels like it honors both his old family and his new one at the same time. It's wonderful.

"Thank you. I'm so glad I get to live with you all. This is my home."

"Your home, huh? I love that! I've been thinking for a while now that 'Ship Three' is a little bland. Starting today, we'll call this place home!"
Edited 2023-06-07 08:36 (UTC)
essenceofdeadlybeasts: (112)

[personal profile] essenceofdeadlybeasts 2023-06-07 01:57 am (UTC)(link)
[Zhao hesitates at the edge of the memory, the edge of the stone room. He's not certain what will happen if he disturbs the vision or tries to interact with it in any way. But his eyes travel all around and take in the sight before him. He's not really sure what this is all about yet, why it's happening or what it means. He's seen one or two visions like this so far but it's like puzzle piece figuring out what's going on each time. A bit of a disconnect before it clicks into place.

He recognizes Sabriel after a moment and he watches in silence. He's not certain if he can be seen in this vision or not, or what would it would mean if he was noticed, so he keeps quiet and still and only watches for now. It takes him a moment but he realizes the kids here were practicing, learning magic, the Charter magic Sabriel uses. His brows raise slightly as he realizes this and interest is born. So, this was what magic school looked like.]
blackfire: (pic#15501345)

huaisang (rose)

[personal profile] blackfire 2023-06-07 02:01 am (UTC)(link)
the sky is thick with clouds, black and roiling across the horizon. large stone statues flank two men standing face-to-face, and the occasional cut of lightning through the sky illuminates their men's features more clearly.

well — perhaps it is not accurate to say men.

one is identifiably itachi, with a decade lifted from his shoulders. shorter. more slender. his hair barely brushing the tops of his shoulderblades, though still kept back in that customary tie. he is wearing body armour that looks like a uniform, its individual pieces looking almost comical scaled down to the size of what can only be a boy of twelve or so — though his expression is already as set and serious as those many times his age. he wears a sword over one shoulder, and vambraces that are lashed in tight against narrow wrists.

the older man is swathed in bandages, leaning heavily on a cane when it suits him to appear so.

the man is speaking, and if huaisang ventures close he will hear fragments of the conversation —

— whatever it takes to protect Konoha. I would like you to choose: align with the Uchiha and launch the coup d'état, and be slaughtered along with your family — or, side with Konoha and before they attempt the coup, eliminate every Uchiha... except your younger brother.

lightning splits the sky, and itachi stands backlit against it. he no longer looks older than his years, but perilously young, a horrible shock bled into every line of him. he takes a half-step back before he seems to realize what he's done, and then he rights his posture to its correct position. the man gives him a once-over before continuing as if he had not moved:

In order to protect Konoha, every step must be taken to avoid disaster. The only one that can handle this mission is you, a double agent for both Konoha and the Uchiha. There is no one else, Itachi. Will you accept this mission?

the memory seems to shift, and stretch. the world blacks out, and when light begins to creep from center, to illuminate the setting once again, they are in a shrine that feels subterranean, and itachi is kneeling before the stone monument at its front. no longer dressed in the armour, he has his headband clenched in one hand against his thigh. the moment he becomes aware of huaisang's presence he will turn and fling a knife at him, intending more to warn than to injure.
asymbiotic: (46)

Chuuta Kokonose | ēlDLIVE | OTA

[personal profile] asymbiotic 2023-06-07 02:17 am (UTC)(link)
kitchen
[Force of habit leads Chuuta to the kitchen. There isn't much cooking to do, and the stacks of packaged meals are pretty clearly labeled, so he ends up just cleaning. The dishes in the sink are first, then he moves on to counters, walls, the floor...

He won't intentionally be in anyone's way, and he's friendly enough, but he's also like, deep cleaning the floor under the counters. Try not to step on him.
]

exploration wildcard
Have you found anything yet? [Chuuta asks, as he sort of vaguely looks around, pokes carefully through boxes or drawers or peers under leaves. He hasn't been very successful, but there's always the possibility that someone who's better at searching than he is has turned something up.]

memories
[[ooc: hit me up at [plurk.com profile] hydok if you want something else specific!]]

rose - 1 (cw: child death)
[It's a sunny day in late summer, and you're walking up a mountain path. Leaves rustle in a light breeze. Ahead of you, around a curve in the path, you can hear the sounds of children laughing.]

rose - 2 (cw: mentioned child death)
[There are people in the temple, rows of chairs and families dressed in black. There are three photos, two boys and a girl, maybe six or seven years old. In the crowd of mourners there's a little boy in a suit, expression blank.]

silver
[A bowling alley, bright and colorful and full of kids hanging out after school. There's a little group of middle schoolers, still in their school uniforms, being excitedly loud about their game. Chuuta (age 14) gets up from his seat to take his turn and... immediately trips, sending his bowling ball right into the gutter.]

copper
[Suddenly, it's loud. The quiet of the Ximilia is replaced with a party atmosphere, the dingy walls giving way to gleaming white tiles and blue glass, a big room suddenly crowded with dozens of aliens of every description (some who look like humans, some who very much do not) mostly dressed in species-appropriate variations on a purple military uniform. Very "high-energy work party" kind of vibes here right now, helped along by tables of unidentifiable food and drink.]
oiorpata: (104)

02 A

[personal profile] oiorpata 2023-06-07 02:21 am (UTC)(link)
[ 🪓 ]
coordination: (my apartment smells of rich mahogany)

[personal profile] coordination 2023-06-07 02:25 am (UTC)(link)
[ He almost makes a smart remark about not even being able to find a way out even if one wasn't rooted into place. But his lips begin to part, and then snap back shut because it's quickly overridden by his sudden wish to not want to deal with any of this. ]

Well, just-

[ ...

Just leave. Just forget it. Pretend you never saw it.

Something in his heart twists which is why those words don't come out. It feels ... bad, wrong, to say something like that. Forget. Push it away. It's not that he wants to himself, but the pain that comes along with that ... that's what he wishes would stop.

And Joric did just say he hadn't intended to walk in and catch this moment of vulnerability.

Another small beat. Yzak shuts his eyes, pulls in a deep breath through his nose to try and ground himself. His blue eyes are a little less intense (but just a little, because Yzak is by default, intense) when he opens them again as he brings his hand up to give it a small couple of waves. ]


... it's fine. I don't even think you were around then, either, it was so long ago now.

[ As if that matters. But considering Yzak was either incapacitated or awake and coasting on painkillers, he doesn't even assume the other face is familiar to Joric. ]
deaddrop: (pic#15027530)

[personal profile] deaddrop 2023-06-07 02:27 am (UTC)(link)
[Jim's stepfather doesn't scare Natasha even a little, but she respects his imperative. He knows how this plays out; she doesn't.

And punching a memory in the throat won't do any of them any good. Probably.

She steps out of his way, letting him lead.]


Where to?
laviny: (pic#16506638)

[personal profile] laviny 2023-06-07 02:36 am (UTC)(link)
[Today in the sunlight room, when Zhao enters, he will be faced with this memory. Yelena enraged and absolutely ready to kill and take revenge for her sister, grief making it all but impossible for Clint Barton to get through to her. Though eventually he does find a way. A whistle that gives her pause and makes her listen.

When the memory ends Yelena is left misty eyes and irritated.]


If it is going to be like this, I could really use some vodka.
asymbiotic: (84)

for wwx

[personal profile] asymbiotic 2023-06-07 02:37 am (UTC)(link)
[The simulation room twists, reshapes itself into blue-white hallways of a space station that is very clearly not the Ximilia. One side of the curved path is a wall of windows, with nothing outside but uninterrupted views of stars.

A girl stands there, silently looking out the windows. Then there's a hiss as a door slides open in a wall, and sounds of a loud party spill out into the quiet hallway. Chuuta (shorter than Wei Wuxian might remember him, four years younger and a lot less worn down) escapes out the door as well, with the sigh of someone who's been happily overwhelmed with too much social interaction for one day. It's been fun, but he's also glad to be getting out of the center of attention.
]

Time flies when you're having fun... [He says, to no one (the girl is too far down the hallway and too wrapped up in her own thoughts to notice his entry, and Chuuta hasn't noticed Wei Wuxian.]

[A pause, and he continues as if someone said something, a laugh and a:] You're right.

[He stops, pulled up short when he sees the girl. She hasn't noticed him yet, her back is towards him as she carefully tips a small handfull of pills from a bottle she pulls out of her pocket, takes her medicine and takes a drink of water. Chuuta frowns, contemplative, and takes a few steps towards the girl.]
Edited 2023-06-07 02:37 (UTC)