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

MISSION: THE AI AND THE COMMANDER

M I S S I O N   1 4 . 0

SOMEWHENPRESENT DAYFYI

// SOMEWHEN  


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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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


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

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


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

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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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

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

Present Day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

// VIVECA
“Yeah. We’ll find them.”

TOP


F Y I

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

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

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

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

And finally, your soundtrack for this log:

TOP


NAV

doooooog: (h)

[personal profile] doooooog 2023-06-12 05:07 am (UTC)(link)
[ idk what a unity day pageant is, but gimme that! ]
dispassioned: (pic#16369359)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-12 05:10 am (UTC)(link)
[His brows draw together in confusion.]

I don’t know what you’re talking about.

[He's not traumatized. He’s fine.

Well, except for this hallucination. Maybe that’s not so fine.

But whatever, he needs to eat. Since the dog is (probably??) a hallucination, he doesn’t need to worry about looking for his home. So, Chishiya just turns and heads toward the kitchen without another word.]


heroooic: (pic#16099893)

[personal profile] heroooic 2023-06-12 05:16 am (UTC)(link)
Ow! [ Distracted, the toy ricochets into Finn’s face with an undignified squeak. ]

Dude. [ He shoots his younger self a glare, rubbing his cheek, before stooping to pick it up agin. Baby Finn was extremely delighted by the turn, pointing excitably. ] Jake, you can’t just steal old lady’s purses, man…what if baby me saw you?

[ Imagine the scandal. ]
Edited 2023-06-12 05:16 (UTC)
heroooic: (pic#16138168)

[personal profile] heroooic 2023-06-12 05:20 am (UTC)(link)
Right! Easy, breezy.

[ Finn grins, turning and walking a few steps backwards down toward the darker end of the room, rifling through his backpack with one hand while he talks. ]

Aren’t the orbs always to blame? They’re big troublemakers, considering how much effort we go through to collect them…
doooooog: (g)

[personal profile] doooooog 2023-06-12 05:27 am (UTC)(link)
[ The bells continue to chime, clarifying their rhythm into the recognizable pattern of suzu. The cubes below his feet slowly shift to warm summer grass, painted with the warm pinks and oranges of sunset. Bird song and the sound of wind whistling through a mountain pass could be heard all around him, for all the sky remained hidden by the architecture of the path he walked down.

When trying to find a gap in the wall to peer through, Yujin will notice that the warm deep pink of the path has now taken on a distinctive red. At some indefinable moment, torii gates had replaced the featureless cubes. Each one was mere inches from the other, guiding him smoothly from one plane of existence to the spirit realm. Or, so the traditions said.

Directly ahead of him, a sun dappled shrine could be seen. Despite the striking red paint that appeared to be brand new, nature had clearly begun to reclaim the worship site. Vines grew lush over its walls and statues, obscuring the intricacies of its previously ornate design. The offertory box was the most overgrown, surrounded by strange red blooms. ]


You can still turn back. [ The whispered voice repeats, just behind him. ] But once you pass through the last gate, I can't help you anymore.
peasant: (alina-ep1-11)

[personal profile] peasant 2023-06-12 05:32 am (UTC)(link)
[ she smiles, the perfect picture of innocuous. he doesn't need to know it's a purposeful ploy to coax him into resting. ]

I'm not going to get lost on the way there.

[ but she isn't discounting that it's become a latent fear of his, nor his eagerness to be in her company. that amusement is gently delivered, as a result, half-mired in reassurance. her hand stretches out, extended for him to take. ]

But I wouldn't say no to some company.
dispassioned: (pic#16312508)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-12 05:49 am (UTC)(link)
[He takes her hand and leads her out of the room.]

You never know. The layout could have changed.

[He's kidding. Though she did get lost somehow during the teleportation process so you never know.]

You want to stop for some freeze dried ice cream or mystery protein on the way?
softshoes: (🌸 03)

[personal profile] softshoes 2023-06-12 05:59 am (UTC)(link)
[In the heart of this strange garden, the wind gently rippling his graying hair, the faint cushion of grass beneath his sandaled feet, he takes the full scene in its wholeness. For a long moment, he stands perfectly still and says nothing: if not for the soft chime of suzu and the faraway warble of birdsong, the silence would be overwhelming.

The man lifts his head. Yujin gazes up at those towering crimson gates, then towards the distant shrine, wreathed by red spider lilies.

Death, he thinks. The tension in his body, present since the beginning of this maze, slackens slightly: his arms hang limp at his sides, the wind whispering through the loose-fitting fabric.

For the first time in many weeks, he speaks in his mother tongue without hesitation.
]

And if I accept your help, [Yujin asks, his eyes still fixed on the path ahead,] what then?

[He doesn't wait for the answer before he steps forward, proceeding to the shrine.]
peasant: (alina17496)

[personal profile] peasant 2023-06-12 06:07 am (UTC)(link)
[ """mystery protein""". he makes it sound so appetizing. alina expression wrenches into a distasteful wrinkle as her hand squeezes around his, easily falling into step beside him. ]

Does the freeze-dried ice cream taste like anything?

[ she's wagering on a big, fat, resounding no. ]
dispassioned: (pic#16296978)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-12 06:20 am (UTC)(link)
[Look there's no way to make those sound appetizing. They are a valid source of protein but they taste like cardboard and the protein in question is from god knows where. It is what it is.

He hums a bit at the question.]


Well, it definitely doesn't taste like ice cream.

[So it tastes like something just not what it's supposed to.]

It's a little like vanilla flavored chalk.
doooooog: (g)

[personal profile] doooooog 2023-06-12 06:26 am (UTC)(link)
I'm not in the habit of giving answers to people who'd prefer to cover their eyes and ears to what's in front of them.

[ No longer shrouded by a whisper, the character of the voice stands out with more clarity. It's a commanding thing, with a booming quality even without raising his voice. The kind of voice that might belong to a a very old friend, or a much newer enemy.

When Yujin proceeds through the last gate, the voice is clipped off with little more than the hiss of a mamushi carried away in the late summer wind. If Yujin turns back now, he'll see the gates lead down a mountain path, disappearing into a copse of trees. The way he'd come, and whoever the voice belonged to, were apparently gone.

Three items within the shrine shine with significance in Yujin's memory as a heaviness appears in his tanned palm. Upon looking down at his hand, he'll find his fingers free of the wear and tear of age, grasping a large bronze coin polished to a high shine. The reflection of his own face in it is scarcely older than eighteen, young eyes reflecting those of his father back at him. Upon further inspection, he'll find the coin is unlike any legal tender he's ever handled before. Engraved in its bronze surface is the face of a young woman, looking serenely to her left as Queen Victoria's portrait did on the shillings Yujin handled in England.

The offertory box still lay ahead of him, wreathed in spider lilies. Several yards from the shrine, a small fountain sat anachronistically in the overgrown clearing. After a moment, Yujin may recognize it as a shrunken replica of one found in Trafalgar Square. Floating on the surface of its murky water were dozens of blooming lilies.

Both places call to the coin in Yujin's palm. But then again, so too does the fold of his obi.

Where will Yujin place the coin? ]
Edited 2023-06-12 06:29 (UTC)
cruelyethuman: (Are you sure?)

[personal profile] cruelyethuman 2023-06-12 06:30 am (UTC)(link)
[It is a little bit like watching one of Newton's movies, seeing the scene play out as if he wasn't there. Lighter than air, as he stands with his hands behind his back and watches all of it.

Seeing how Chishiya thinks out loud, the bleak surroundings and the collars fixed around every neck.

Like dogs, only these look infinitely more dangerous than chains or leather. He saw something like this on E23-b, the collars rigged to explode.]


Playing cards?
swordandshield: (176)

[personal profile] swordandshield 2023-06-12 06:35 am (UTC)(link)
[The phrase 'this shit again' pinged as interest to Felix as soon as it left Yelena's mouth. Unfortunately for Yelena, he just saw one hell of a fight and had one too many comments about it to get distracted by the revealing line. It was hard, but the despicable mercenary eventually settled on two aspects of the fight. Neither of them very helpful as he tried to ignore all the underlying feelings associated with the scene--hers, or his own.]

Oh man, [he began, the hint of laughter in his voice] that was one hell of a fight. You two are definitely a pair of feisty wild cats. Well trained. Hardened. I've always known it'd be smarter to want to avoid a throwdown with either of you, but then where's the fun in never trying something new and exciting. It would be insane--ly hot action.

[Please excuse (and ignore) his fightboner. It was really inevitable though. If the last mission spent together had been indication of anything, it was that Felix loved a good fight. Also, that he liked to avoid the real issue by skirting around a secondary truth in order to divert around the one that bothered him.

Then, just because he couldn't resist he added the other thing that had caught his attention in the fight.]


Also, maybe work a little on those knife fighting skills. I can give you a few pointers that would have made that impossible to lose.
peasant: (alina-ep2-16)

[personal profile] peasant 2023-06-12 06:42 am (UTC)(link)
[ ergh. the disappointment is palpable as her face scrunches up impossibly further, creased into a thousand tiny lines. mystery protein is one thing. but chalky ice cream is a masochist's delight. doubtlessly indigestible as far as any nourishment must go, at any rate. ]

I think my stomach will stick with going for a nap. [ dryly, ] Difficult as you've made my decision.
cruelyethuman: (Uh huh)

[personal profile] cruelyethuman 2023-06-12 06:48 am (UTC)(link)
[A wrongly played note, a violin scratch in an otherwise perfect performance and Aleksander lifts his head from where he was-- busy, locking eyes with Daisy... another Daisy, standing across the room and looking scandalized.

The scene, the skin underneath his mouth and the bed shimmers out of existence and all he's left with, is the ghost memory of frosting on his tongue and Daisy, warm and vibrant, against his lips.]


Did you think-[Another memory, then. As he gathers himself, raising up until he's at full height and towering over her.] that I would forget you?
dispassioned: (pic#16369363)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-12 06:48 am (UTC)(link)
[He glances sidelong at Aleksander, one eyebrow quirked slightly.The question seems purposefully obtuse, so Chishiya counters with a question of his own. ]

Is that what it looked like to you?

[He notes that while some other members of the crew who have viewed his memories seem uncomfortable with the entire situation, Aleksander does not. He watches it easily, with the same sort of attitude one might have while viewing a movie.]
softshoes: (🌸 62)

[personal profile] softshoes 2023-06-12 06:50 am (UTC)(link)
It's Jake's voice he hears, faraway as a distant recollection-- one he should not, cannot know, thirty-three and surrounded by the wide sweep of Devon moorland, a vast and enveloping darkness just outside this small shelter. But the Hound is an odd comfort, now, his fur bathed in a strange golden light. His hand falls away from his mouth as the reassuring bulk of the dog settles beside him, and fragments of the scene return once more, essential set pieces to a memory playing itself out. Yujin, cradling the child, shakes his head. She doesn't resemble him, either, nor is she even Japanese: the infant's head of delicate hair is pale pink, a mess of tiny curls.

"Your mother," he answers unsteadily, "could not name you..."

His eyes drift towards Lady Baskerville. She lies in what could be a still and peaceful slumber, even as her pale body cools; notably, her hair is that very same shade of pale pink. The baby in his arms, cold, exhausted, and hungry, soon stops crying, too worn to do more but murmur small and hoarse sounds.

"Ayame gave our daughter her name." His expression softens, pain and love mingling in it. "She will name you too, little one."

"Iris," says Yujin, and the memory falls entirely away.

Yujin, empty-handed and forty-three once more, sits beside Jake on the floor of the infirmary. As he stares into the fluorescent glare of the overhead lights, his eyes brim wet with unshed tears.
dispassioned: (pic#16259477)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-12 06:54 am (UTC)(link)
[He huffs a little, almost apologetic.]

It seemed cruel to try to convince you it might taste good. You'd only be disappointed.

[He might be a troll but he also knows how much she likes good food. Getting her hopes up would just be mean, honestly.]
rootlessly: (pic#16518619)

[personal profile] rootlessly 2023-06-12 06:58 am (UTC)(link)
[It's the boy with the slightly brighter hair that first reacts to her presence.]

Re...m?

[Sabriel can hear where that one syllable transformed from exclamation to question, blinking wide blue eyes in a sort of childish bewilderment before he seems to realize something, making a small "eep" noise as his eyebrows raise high and he hides his arms and their markings behind his back.]

W-who are you...? Rem didn't say anyone was waking up from cold sleep today....
peasant: (alina-ep2-10)

[personal profile] peasant 2023-06-12 07:01 am (UTC)(link)
Suppose I'll stick with the mystery protein, next time.

[ if his description is any indication, it likely has the texture of a beef slurry. it's illuminating, these unanticipated consequences of viveca and degar's absence. she feels it more deeply over such a trivial loss like a decent meal, or a clean bed to lounge in. more evidence that they had taken viveca's assistance for granted.

a long breath billows out of her just as they turn a corner.
]

Olivia's hospitality feels lacking. [ but, wryness aside: ] It makes one wonder how Viveca ever gained access to all of our supplies.
rootlessly: (pic#16518589)

[personal profile] rootlessly 2023-06-12 07:21 am (UTC)(link)
[The whistle is the first thing that's a surprise. It's different from how Rem typically cheers them on when she stops in to listen, and Vash happens to turn just in time to watch the extra paw sprout out of the dog's side, and he gasps as his eyes go real big all of a sudden.]

Are you...another Independent? Like us?

[He looks more like what he's understood from Rem's books and movies to be a dog. But it's undeniable what just happened there, right? He produced something out of his body, like a plant. And he's moving all on his own, outside the containers. He tugs at his brother's sleeve, who looks intrigued, yet keeps his distance.]

Nai, Nai look! We have to show Rem!
dispassioned: (pic#16308892)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-12 07:27 am (UTC)(link)
At least it has some nutritional value.

[So even if it tastes bad, she's still getting something out of it. The freeze dried ice cream is mostly only good for satisfying curiosity about what freeze dried ice cream would taste like.

And she has a point about the supplies Viveca and Daegar have access to. Not to mention the technology and general comforts.]


You're right. It's an interesting contrast. If this is an accurate representation of what the Ximilia was generally like, then it might be partially Emerton's influence. Apparently, he was the commander of their crew. A military man might be inclined to be more spartan about amenities than someone like Degar.

[He's never spoken to Degar but based on what others have said about him and what he's read on the network, Degar seems like the type to want to make people comfortable.]
cruelyethuman: (Well alright then)

[personal profile] cruelyethuman 2023-06-12 07:29 am (UTC)(link)
You called him 'Jack of hearts'.

[The names are as foreign to him as most on the station, but really, people would call themselves or their children anything these days.

Eyes flicking down to the collar still fixed around Chishiya's neck.]


Are you in prison?

[Memories. Dreams. It all blurred together after a while, stepping in to different rooms only to be faced with fears and hopes, nightmares and dreamscapes.]
softshoes: art by <user name=usaalock site=twitter.com> (🌱 64)

[personal profile] softshoes 2023-06-12 07:41 am (UTC)(link)
[The voice belongs to both. For years, it has resonated in his mind as powerfully as it has within the halls of the Japanese Supreme Court, for the voice has borrowed the timbre of Judge Seishiro Jigoku. Once, his oldest friend; now, a bitter enemy. He is the last man on earth that Yujin would trust, here or anywhere else. In his eyes, trusting his instincts had been correct after all.

Urged onward, and now completely unwilling to turn back, he misses the mountain path that slides away into the dense thicket of Japanese yew. His attention falls instead to his appearance. There are no wrinkles on the back of his hand as he holds the unusual coin between his suddenly-younger thumb and forefinger, turning it about, examining it from every angle. His reflection, cast in bronze, is smooth, his upper lip bare; the sight of it is surreal, sending a chill down his spine.

The fountain draws his eyes. His expression softens-- he's passed it time and time again, on foot and in galloping carriages in pursuit of a case, a clue, a culprit; how could he not recognize it? Yet again, he is tempted. But this coin is the only clue he has to his current location, and he cannot do away with it so quickly. Although his eyes follow the lilies drifting lazily across the fountain's surface, reluctantly, he tucks the coin into his obi.
]

Where are you taking me? [he asks in Japanese, the sound of his young voice unsettling to his ears.]
dispassioned: (pic#16259473)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-12 08:04 am (UTC)(link)
[He looks vaguely amused by the question.]

Only until the game ends.

[Which should be any moment because the Jack of Hearts does not have it in him to withstand the torture of two psychopaths.

Though, really, he's not sure why the memory hasn't fully faded yet. He's not actively reliving it anymore, he's aware of the illusion now. But the walls of the prison still exist around them.

Simulation room glitch, maybe. Inconvenient.]