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

cruelyethuman: (Are you sure?)

B

[personal profile] cruelyethuman 2023-06-07 06:26 am (UTC)(link)
[Slowly searching through the station for clues, any clue, as to what is going on. The remnants of another crew, another mission but the orbs were at the center of it.

Pulling along all of them, with their very own center of gravity. Two steps in, and the world drops away-]
peasant: (alina29211)

[personal profile] peasant 2023-06-07 06:32 am (UTC)(link)
[ a prickle of suspicion nags at her, a distinct ping of awareness. it feels an awful lot like he's digging, turning over her answers to try to make a deduction. it feels an awful lot like it's an unjust assumption for her to leap toward. but she can't shake the sensation that it's an indirect line of questioning to serve some greater purpose. some gentle method he's employed to lead her into divulging what he wishes to know.

he is nothing if not annoyingly perceptive, after all. their first impression had solidified that talent. impressive, aimed elsewhere; obnoxiously insightful, at times, when she's found herself the unwitting target of it. her brows furrow, casting another sidelong glance over her shoulder, as if the look itself is underlined by a question.
]

No one cares what you wear if you're a soldier.

[ which is true enough. trousers. skirts. nothing had mattered for the first army, nor the second. why care, when all of them are pawns or bullet fodder? she presses her lips together, rolling them thoughtfully. ]

But they do care when you're in attendance for an important ceremony. Dirty trousers would cause the scandal of the decade, I'm sure.
Edited 2023-06-07 06:34 (UTC)
deferences: dns (♪ wistful)

lan sizhui | the untamed

[personal profile] deferences 2023-06-07 07:17 am (UTC)(link)
(totally going with the choose your adventure style of things too! pick a prompt/color and i'll write up a starter. or, if you prefer to do a wildcard of something more basic and non-memshare, i can toss something together for that instead c:)

1. rosy sleeping quarters/childhood (the choices for this prompt will be many: tiny sizhui being buried in the dirt so he will ‘grow faster’, brief cameo of wei wuxian and wen qing; being bought toys at the market, another wei wuxian cameo alongside lan wangji; being taken to cloud recesses by lan wangji; spending time with lan xichen.

2. silvery simulation room/happy moment (a couple i've chosen for this are: reuniting with wei wuxian, both back home [with the restriction no one tells him about this one] and here on the space station, and also reuniting with wen ning back home.)

3. coppery kitchen/best meal (and my two obvious choices for these are when he has a meal with wei wuxian and lan wangji, and the time they had the big family dinner at the burial mounds, but i'm also completely fine headcanon'ing something if other appearances are wanted!)
Edited 2023-06-07 09:24 (UTC)
dispassioned: (pic#16337965)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-07 07:31 am (UTC)(link)
Ah. That’s fair.

[He is curious, he wouldn’t deny it if she asked. He knows she’s being cagey, but it’s not something he can necessarily blame her for. It’s habit he’s prone to himself, especially if he’s under stress. And she certainly seems to be under stress.

Though really everyone is, at the moment. So, he doesn’t push her further.

There’s a pause in the conversation as he works at the laces binding her shoulder blades. It’s too bad Ravka probably doesn’t have any version of yelp, because whoever the seamstress was that did this deserves some 1 star reviews.

But he doesn’t say that because Alina would probably not understand what he was talking about. Instead he says, finally:]


I’m glad you’re back.
laviny: (pic#15120026)

[personal profile] laviny 2023-06-07 07:48 am (UTC)(link)
[Aleksander gets treated to this touching family scene. Yelena having dinner in a Russian farmhouse with her whole family and having a really bad time because, as it turns out, they are buried under baggage that none of them know how to deal with.

She huffs as it ends and sniffs, turning to leave, but…oh. She’s not alone.]


…Hi, Greg.

[Will she ever use his actual name? Hard to say. Though she’s not even really trying to be bratty right now. It’s just force of habit. Her tone is far more dejected than playful. This whole memory sharing business sure is awkward.]
rootlessly: (pic#16506637)

blue // ota (cw: parental death, limb loss)

[personal profile] rootlessly 2023-06-07 08:35 am (UTC)(link)
💥 v. goodbye is the loneliest word

The cryo-sleep chamber is the picture of tranquility. Hundreds of pods line up in the chamber, the light from them akin to stars out in the vacuum of space beyond. It's cold, here, temperature kept near-freezing to prolong the lives of the humans sleeping within on their long, long sojourn through the stars for a new home, and the boy that comes to greet them good morning is wrapped in a thick fluffy coat.

Then, all at once: pandemonium. Something seems to blast apart, the force of the shockwave knocking the boy off his feet. A woman's voice over the intercom: Vash, come back immediately! followed by a more automated, electronic warning--This is a level E-3 emergency. Formation maintenance program: phase 5 recalculating. This ship is in free fall. Please evacuate as quickly as possible.

The boy runs through the halls in a panic as machinery continues to fail with alarming bursts and sparks, searching for the woman who called him, jumping into her arms when he finds her.

"Nai! Rem! What's going on? Why's the ship in free fall?

The woman, Rem, smiles gently at him, patting his head before proceeding to lie right to his face: "Everything's fine. The ship's AI is just exaggerating. Now follow me, you two."

She leads them to what is very clearly an escape pod, urging them inside. The other boy with Rem climbs in immediately, but the first hesitates.

"What about everyone still sleeping? They'll be able to escape too, right?"

"Of course they will. Now, get ready."

It's only then that the other boy, Nai, speaks, reaching out a gray-skinned hand to her. "You come too, Rem."

She doesn't move, only closing her eyes briefly before she smiles at them, bittersweet. It's clear in this moment it will be the very last time, as she closes the pod door between them.

"I love you both."

The boy bangs on the glass to be let out, but to no avail. It's too late.

"Vash, Nai...I want you two to survive." There's tears in her eyes, now, but she doesn't stop smiling. "Meeting you...has brought me so much joy!"

With those parting words, she pulls at a lever, and ejects them both. There's nothing that can be done as the pod fires itself backward out of the crumbling ship, leaving the boy's cries unheard by anyone save his brother.

🔪 vi. millions knives

The memory opens upon a wide, empty platform of some kind, lit only by an eerie sort of red glow from the containers of the dying plants housed below. Two blond teenage boys, nearly mirror images of each other, stand upon it, both wearing the same sort of desert cloaks. One has clearly arrived in the middle of something, the other having been slumped to his knees, head bowed, when the newcomer appeared. He rises to his feet, lifting up his hood to reveal himself to the other boy, before addressing him directly.

"Vash, you must have heard them. Their screams. Now you know. This is the true nature of humanity."

One of the employees at this facility speaks up at this, voice dripping condescension. "They're born to serve us humans. I'm sure they were happy to be useful. Now, we're busy here. I'll have to ask you outsiders to leave."

The boy who spoke is roughly grabbed by the workers, then, despite the protests of an older man--some sort of scientist--with him, but he hardly struggles. His voice is cold with rage. "Didn't you hear them? Their dying cries?! ...If so, there's no need for words. Just let me hear your screams."

Some sort of blades grow out of his fingers, then, like claws, and all at once he sets upon the men around him, ripping them apart like tissue paper.

"Stop this, Nai!"

"'Nai', huh? I haven't heard that name in a long time. I now represent my myriad of brethren spread across the planet. I shall cut down humanity in their stead. I am Millions Knives."

The boy pays no heed to the correction; he presses on, voice urgent with distress: "Why? Why did you kill them? Rem sacrificed herself to save these people!"

Nai, on the other hand, is unfazed. Almost placid. "That's right. If it weren't for her meddling, every ship other than the plant carriers would've been rubble. After all the work I did to swap out the navigation data for every single ship..."

Behind them, armed men with uniforms similar to the corpses on the ground come charging in, one giving an order to get them, and yet, Nai doesn't even turn to look. He's still addressing Vash, ignoring the others as if they're no better than insects buzzing at his ear.

"Vash...let's build a paradise together. Free our brethren from the foul humans."

"Plants can't survive without humans to take care of them. Remember what Rem said? Outside of human control, plants use up all their energy in a burst and die."

"So you bought into that nonsense...no matter how comfortable, chains are still chains. ...But we're different. You and I have our own will, and we walk freely."

Abruptly, he turns on his heel to charge at the armed men, easily dispatching them even as they shoot at him. One tries to beg for his life, to insist that they had to do what they did to survive, but his throat too is slit midsentence as Vash watches on in horror.

"Knives" bends to pick up a fallen gun from one of the dead men, before walking over to place it in Vash's hands.

"An evil weapon of the Sinners, taking lives easily from afar with the twitch of a finger...a fitting arm for a human-lover like you. The plants are the ones who need power. I have what we need. Now all you and I need to do is proceed."

Before Vash can find out what it is his brother intends to do, however, another woman appears on the scene, calling out to him. The scientist recognizes her as Luida, and Vash turns, surprised to see her.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to get you. Let's go home together."

"What a great opportunity. Take aim, Vash. Kill her as your first step."

Vash balks, frozen in place as Luida calls for him while his brother tries to goad him into the kill. When he doesn't move, Knives simply huffs in amusement, taking the gun back into his own hands. "You really can't do anything without me."

But as he closes in on the young woman, Vash seems to at last have gathered himself, tackling his brother to the ground. "Until the bitter end, all I did was let Rem protect me! Because of that, I lost her! So I won't let you take anyone else away from me!

In the tussle, Knives manages to knock Vash off of him, and he rounds on Luida again, grabbing her by the throat and lifting her up as he tries to choke the life out of her.

"You witch! How many times will you steal him from me?"

"Stop. Stop this." Vash has gotten up, by now, ready to go at his brother for a second round, when something -- happens. A dark vortex of some sort opens up within his left arm, starting to absorb everything in the area, from the corpses his brother left to the coat off the scientist's back as he clings to a railing to avoid certain death.

Vash stands frozen, unable to control what's happening to him, and his brother's eyes widen in shock. You fool, he shouts, dumping the woman in his hands like so much trash as he throws himself toward the vortex ... but before he can get drawn in, he slices Vash's arm off just above the elbow. It tumbles to the ground, absorbing itself before disappearing into nothing. The two brothers collapse to the ground, though when Luida tries to see to Vash, Knives angrily demands she not touch him as he himself crawls toward his brother ... only to find that same gun pointed at his forehead. He stares down the barrel with a mix of shock and hurt and perhaps something else before he laughs, something manic and a touch unhinged to it as he rises.

"Just wait for a short while. A mere century or so. I promise I'll build a world of plants."
Edited 2023-06-07 08:48 (UTC)
peasant: (alina-ep4-5)

[personal profile] peasant 2023-06-07 08:40 am (UTC)(link)
[ she lapses into a painfully silent pause, broken only by the scrape of fabric against fabric. another lace fastening loosens, tempting her to sag under the weight of it. she presses a hand to her sternum, instead, steadying herself from swaying forward like a ship docked at a restless harbor.

it's quiet, when her voice rings through the empty air. almost like she's reluctant to hear what the answer may be.
]

Are you?

[ he's barely behaved as though her absence was notable, as though it was a ripple barely felt. the uncomfortable plummeting in her chest, down to her stomach like a chasm, feels awfully close to — disappointment, perhaps. a selfish dose of it, hollowing out her insides. pride deters her from questioning outright if he'd missed her at all, for how petulant it strikes her as being; like a child, seeking comfort after a fear-coated nightmare.

her head shifts forward accordingly, her stare a void as it bores into the wall, unfocused.
]
blackfire: (pic#15857579)

[personal profile] blackfire 2023-06-07 02:13 pm (UTC)(link)
his own handshake is the same, and then he withdrawals back into his own space. he does not look at the man, which seems more an act of modesty than sheer avoidance — but for now it will serve.

Mr. McCoy.

it is said with detachment. distance. he had ceased to use an honourific with the man more than a year ago. so much has lain between then and now. long nights over tea (and occasionally, other drinks) and games of chess and shogi. tales of georgia, of james. the wound of the man's father, still raw after all this time —

that foolish desire mccoy had espoused, to change his regret to alter the flow of itachi's own life. he cannot say with certainty that is not what has happened here — the orbs do seem to love their irony. he feels exhaustion instead of anger at the possibility.

is this permanent, he wonders? it is curious to feel the sharp clench of grief over the possibility. it crawls through him like ivy through a garden wall. it is a burden he has carried with him so long, feeling some new spark of it puts him on tenuous ground. once upon a time, it had felt as though there was no upper limit to the threshold of his tolerance for it.

now, he wonders if he is not close to his limit after all.


Very well. Take what you wish to eat and leave the rest. I have no preference.
blackfire: (pic#15568855)

[personal profile] blackfire 2023-06-07 02:28 pm (UTC)(link)
he lifts his eyes, meets hers. his are red — which she has most certainly seen before — but they are different than they have been in the past. the benign tomoe of the sharingan sharpened into the whorling blades of the eternal mangekyō. his father's eyes, obtained for him by viveca not long after badrock.

he says one word: tsukuyomi.

and everything falls away.

they are no longer aboard the station, in the infirmary. instead, they are in a remote tea shop in the western country of earth. the shop is beautiful — everything save the furniture is carved wholly from stone. there are people carrying on conversations around them, the snatches of what she can hear involve talk of crops, the local daimyo, the looming possibility of war. before them sit two steaming cups of tea that will not seem to empty no matter how much they drink, and the rich curl of scent in the air is a sort of gentle, harmonious spice and the in-house baking.

it is not identifiably an illusion. more a shift of reality. everything about it, from the smell to the sounds to the motes of dust suspended in the air, the warmth of the room and the chill of the stone beneath their feet all feel entirely real to the senses.

itachi is dressed very simply, in dark clothing that gives little away, and he has a headband she has never seen before at his belt. natasha is in the same clothing she wore aboard the station, perhaps his only concession to the unreality of it all.

he folds his hands neatly, long fingers spidering together in a fold. he wastes no time, simply launching into the topic he had wished to discuss —


Do you know if anyone carried through on that boy's desire to tell Emerton Haughtford?
locumstudentesquire: (stares at u)

[personal profile] locumstudentesquire 2023-06-07 02:58 pm (UTC)(link)
...I see.

[He sounds faintly bewildered, unsure what else to follow that up with. He thanks her for the time being, checks in with some of the other crew members, investigates, and cogitates on the situation.

It's in the course of gathering shards -- Because what else can they all do right now, really --? that he realizes he has an opportunity to dig into a mystery that's been nagging at him for some time now. He's not sure it's at all relevant to solving the current predicament, but he's found success in the past by asking people nosy, leading and out-of-the-blue questions like this.]


Olivia, may I ask you something else? Your maker... Is he currently a part of the crew?
legalcy: (🎵 just pointing out)

[personal profile] legalcy 2023-06-07 03:48 pm (UTC)(link)
[His eyes turn to Magnus - it's rather odd to hear the name of his alter ego assigned to a human.]

He's your client? [Minimus is well aware that Ryunosuke is a lawyer, but he doesn't recognize the people in this room...save for Gina. She's not supposed to be on the ship anymore, he knows this. An illusion? A memory?] Then you have to continue defending him. It's your job, as terrible as it may be.

[He had to defend Megatron before he had reformed, it was terrible.]

If it helps, know that you were paid to fight for him, even if you know you will fail.
recklessenough: (pic#16507375)

[personal profile] recklessenough 2023-06-07 04:35 pm (UTC)(link)
I find it helps to set goals. [ He said with a smirk.

It is a good thing he cannot read minds, as he would pout mightily at the thought of being a 'good kid'. The "K" word always rankled his rather substantial pride.

Leading the way out of the strange storage closet and back into the hallway he waited for her to come up beside him as they made their way towards the kitchen. ]


What do you think is going on here? I mean, I'm working on the assumption that this [ Lockwood motioned to the station all around them ] is not a normal homecoming. Have I got it wrong?
kenpachi: (pic#16094423)

silver;

[personal profile] kenpachi 2023-06-07 04:37 pm (UTC)(link)
gimme a creepy dead thing!
blackfire: (pic#15371259)

[personal profile] blackfire 2023-06-07 04:41 pm (UTC)(link)
yoinks that #2 tbqh.

(oh, the wei wuxian one to clarify sorry head empty only bae. HIS LIPS WILL BE SEALED FOR SURE) 👀👀👀
Edited 2023-06-07 16:42 (UTC)
homeostatic: (197)

[personal profile] homeostatic 2023-06-07 05:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh, things are fine; it's gettin' quiet now.

( He shifts to press his knee against Jim's, and roots around in his bag. Trauma or no, Jim still has a place on his list of priorities, and no one else has yet to knock him off that top spot. )

I did us some laundry. Got you clean clothes, if you want to change. ( Bones leans in, and purposely sniffs loudly, just to get a reaction. )
dispassioned: (pic#16302411)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-07 07:31 pm (UTC)(link)
[His brows draw together at her response and then he remembers her irritation from earlier. Hm.]

I wasn't sure I'd see you again.

[So he had definitely felt her absence. Felt it and didn't like how it felt, so he tried to push it aside.]

And this whole situation is...

[He trails off, as he flicks a gaze around the derelict mess of a room. It's a little too familiar to him for comfort, but he can’t really find the words for it. He sighs and continues to pull the laces of her corset loose.]

Well, it's been a rough couple of days.
rootlessly: (pic#16304059)

1!

[personal profile] rootlessly 2023-06-07 08:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[Peril in unusual situations is how Vash rolls.]
rootlessly: (pic#16358961)

green c:

[personal profile] rootlessly 2023-06-07 08:34 pm (UTC)(link)
rootlessly: (pic#16293591)

[personal profile] rootlessly 2023-06-07 08:51 pm (UTC)(link)
[Maybe rose for the grisha examination test?]
locumstudentesquire: (Head in hands)

[personal profile] locumstudentesquire 2023-06-07 10:22 pm (UTC)(link)
[Ryunosuke's stomach twists. He hears Minimus's point, and it's an echo of what his brain is telling him... But his gut is singing a very different tune.

More to the point... Failure isn't really the problem here.

The memory around them seems to hiccup, and something in the very fabric of it shifts as further details resurface. Absent until this moment, the shape of Susato Mikotoba suddenly manifests in between Minimus and Ryunosuke. The grave expression she wears has nothing to do with the fact that there's a large metal man standing right behind her; like everyone else in this courtroom, she seems to be completely unaware that Minimus is there at all.

'As things stand at the moment, it would seem... That Mr McGilded will be found not guilty,' she says.

Ryunosuke's reply is faint, and devoid of enthusiasm:]


Yes.

['Which would mean... We've won.'

Yes. They'll have won. The trial will end, and Ryunosuke's first case as a defense attorney will officially be a success. He'll have passed Stronghart's test.

Magnus McGilded will walk free.

Reliving this moment, Ryunosuke isn't the seasoned and confident defense attorney that he's managed to become after all this time. Right now, he's a hapless rookie once more; someone who still hasn't figured out what it really means to be a lawyer. All of that old uncertainty comes rushing back in, and crashes over him like an incoming tidal wave. The horrible inner conflict he'd felt in that moment. There's clearly something they're not seeing here. The evidence is suspect, and there's still so much they haven't figured out, so many unanswered questions--!

'Counsel for the Defence...your closing statement, please,' the judge says again. Ryunosuke's attention snaps back up to him, and he stands up a little straighter, jerking his head in a small nod.]


...Yes, My Lord. The defence believes...

[His eyes flick about. He swallows thickly. He can barely breathe, barely get the words out. He tries again, tamping down on the slight tremor in his voice that threatens to make itself known.]

...As Mr McGilded's legal representative... I believe the defendant, Magnus McGilded--

[For Kazuma. He has to win this, he has to keep Kazuma's dream alive!]

--To be innocent of the allegations brought against him.

[A heavy silence falls over the courtroom as his words sink in. Even up in the public gallery, where the rowdiest commentary tends to manifest, not a single peep is uttered.

At length, the judge finally nods, and simply says, 'thank you, Counsel.'

With the silence broken, the courtroom starts to grind back to life. Voices start to murmur up in the gallery, soft whispers passing back and forth, steadily increasing in volume. Across the way, behind his bench, the prosecutor's expression is darker than ever. And the way he looks at Ryunosuke now? There is nothing but sheer disgust behind those cold blue eyes. He lifts his glass of wine high in the defense lawyer's direction, and intoning a mocking toast:

'...Here's to you, my Nipponese friend, and the most abject closing I have yet to hear in a court of law.'

At the witness stand, Magnus McGilded has begun to break down in fits of raucous laughter, clapping his hands over and in a broad, haphazard motion. In the gallery, people are starting to shout, throwing accusations and insults, working themselves up into a proper uproar.

'Ordaaar! Ordaaar!' roars the Judge, banging his gavel. McGilded, center stage, manages to speak over the crowd, through spasms of laughter. 'Oh, 'twas a grand decision to appoint you as my lawyer, so it was! A grand decision! You've saved one of London's most influential gentlemen, fella! Ye should be proud of yeself!'

The echoes of his laugh still ring in Ryunosuke's ears, even as the memory fades, and the two of them are standing in the Sunlight room once more.

For a moment, Ryunosuke cant' find his words. He can't do anything but stand there looking sick to his stomach, fingers knotted in his hair.]
locumstudentesquire: (BETRAYAL)

[personal profile] locumstudentesquire 2023-06-07 11:09 pm (UTC)(link)
[By now the whole crew is starting to realize that picking up orb pieces is a bit of a gamble, but even knowing that... This particular memory is a bit of an unexpected one.

Like before, Ryunosuke is only sort of half aware that this is merely a recollection. It's a strange thing, having his consciousness split like this... Going from the kitchen on the Ximilia, to the wardrobe in Kazuma's cabin on the Burya. It's almost like he never left... Except this time, the old familiar darkness is even heavier than usual... Because somehow? A2 is in here with him as well.

How? Why? Doesn't matter. He doesn't have the capacity to be as confused or as scandalized about it as he should be... For a few reasons. For one thing, despite the darkness, he knows for sure that it IS A2 next to him; they just spent two months sharing an apartment, so he's pretty well practiced at sensing her presence, at this point.

For another thing, he's too lost in the sense memory of this ill-gotten steak to care about the uncomfortable amount of space (or lack thereof) between them, or the fact that she's appearing in a time and place where she shouldn't be. No... That doesn't matter. His heart is racing wildly, pounding away with the adrenaline-filled recollection of how he'd gotten his hands on this meal in the first place. It had been foolish. Reckless. But as he was when it happened, he's so hungry? He just doesn't give a damn anymore. The smell of the steak in his hands making his mouth water. This will be the first full meal he's had in almost two weeks... He can hardly wait.

Almost imperceptibly quiet, he murmurs under his breath, into the darkness:]


Itadakimasu.
drawsblood: (46)

[personal profile] drawsblood 2023-06-08 12:07 am (UTC)(link)
[ He leans his head back against the wall behind him and laughs. ]

It's only happened once so far, but that doesn't mean it won't again. I would welcome your help if I find myself in that situation. Perhaps you could charm the guards.
peasant: (alina-ep2-20)

[personal profile] peasant 2023-06-08 12:19 am (UTC)(link)
[ the lines around her mouth only deepen. it had been a cold reception, in that case, anticipating the warmth of an embrace only to be met with icy distance instead. her arms come to a slow, loose cross over her chest, awkwardly stiff — a nearly protective bracket around herself.

perhaps it's her fault for expecting anything more. perhaps — perhaps he'd been warning her all along, in a way, that the dream would end the moment their time on naephus did. she presses her lips together, repressing any urge to comment further on it, as if saving face.
]

I understand. Having someone root around in your private memories usually has that effect.

[ she sympathizes, pensively quiet. she won't begrudge him that much. if there's further nuance to his worries, she misses it, overlooks it — too frazzled to recall what he'd told her, of abandoned landscapes and an alternate tokyo, just this second. some bitterness at the circumstances seeps in when she continues, ]

As if being forced to relive them wasn't already a punishment.
dispassioned: (pic#16266115)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-08 01:35 am (UTC)(link)
[His brow furrows again, though he doesn’t stop pulling at her laces.]

No, that’s not the problem. [A beat as he reconsiders that.] Or, well…it’s irritating, but…at least no death games have started.

[He's just been forced to relive some of them, but he can handle that. It’s fine. He’s fine. He’s had enough of them though, he finds he doesn’t want to deal with death games in space.]
bindsthedead: (art-breath)

[personal profile] bindsthedead 2023-06-08 02:10 am (UTC)(link)
[Sabriel keeps practicing the same spell as the others... until she adds more marks, and what was a line of marks spirals inwards, and upwards- until it hits the ceiling and bursts into a rain of little lights that descend a few feet before fading away.

Her teacher seems... Somewhat exasperated.

Sabriel, we haven't covered those marks. Did you know what that spell would do? Where did you even learn those marks?

Of course I did! And my father showed me.

The last sentence sees to to satisfy her teacher, who just tells her to stick to the spells shown on the board in the future.]
Edited 2023-06-08 03:59 (UTC)