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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

locumstudentesquire: (pic#16107455)

[personal profile] locumstudentesquire 2023-06-17 11:06 pm (UTC)(link)
[Ryunosuke's frown deepens. That wasn't exactly what he meant, but Minimus's answer raises even further questions. Perhaps he should rephrase...]

No no, everyone deserves representation in court, of course! I do believe that. What I really mean to ask is... Literally, how do you form an argument in order to advocate for someone like that? How do you defend someone you know to be guilty, without outright lying?
locumstudentesquire: (Riceball)

[personal profile] locumstudentesquire 2023-06-17 11:15 pm (UTC)(link)
[Snorting, he replies through a mouthful of beef:]

...Knives and forks aren't the only eating utensils in existence, you know. [Show chopsticks and spoons some respect, at the VERY least.] So, no, not always. [MUNCH MUNCH TEAR MUNCH.] And yes, sometimes, for some foods, we just use our hands.

[GULP.]

...Steak isn't typically one of those foods, but right now I don't care. [He sounds like he's on the verge of joyful tears again.] I've been splitting rations with Kazuma for two weeks, just let me have this.
peasant: (alina-ep1-5)

[personal profile] peasant 2023-06-17 11:17 pm (UTC)(link)
[ impulse jolts her into a twitch. her entire body stumbles to round on him before the low baritone registers in her ears — a familiar voice to set her at ease. the tension in her shoulders sags, accordingly, though wariness edges her eyes. if she had her choice of intruder, chishiya ranks highly on the list; he's too covert to be a source of gossip, and too careful not to dig his fingers in and tear until she opens to him — but even with that assurance, she hasn't forgotten his attitude toward the privileged.

and now she happens to be amongst their number. protected by her status, as grisha have so rarely been. her eyes dart between his as though on a hunt. curious. prowling. when the only crumb she can snatch up is contrition from him, she looks away, sparing a single glance over her shoulder to confirm what she already knows. the vision has faded. he doesn't know what comes next.
]

It's fine.

[ it isn't, really. she's tired of having an audience before she's ready to put these things on display, but the fault of it doesn't lie with him. and besides — ]

There are worse things to see. [ she should be grateful it was a kinder memory. her eyes swivel back to him. expectant, almost. ] No smart comment to make?

[ princess, he'd once called her. it hardly seems the time to hold back now. ]
locumstudentesquire: (pic#15737457)

[personal profile] locumstudentesquire 2023-06-17 11:58 pm (UTC)(link)
What..?!

[The word comes out as a half gasp, half whisper, and Ryunosuke gingerly lifts his head to look at the source of that calming voice.

He knows him.

Not personally, mind, but he recognizes him as a member of the crew. He thinks he even knows his name, maybe? Courtesy of the network. There had been that big commotion with Jake that one time... Jake and... Wei Wuxian? Was that it?

When Ryunosuke looks at him, he knows what he's saying is the truth. An anomaly to the memory, he's something for his brain to anchor on to. But if Ryunosuke looks anywhere else...

Susato's accusing glare. The sailors, towering over him, snarling. 'Criminal!' 'You're not going anywhere!' 'It doesn't matter what you say, we know you're the only one who could have done it--'

Desperate for support, he tries to grab for Wei Wuxian's arm, hands still restricted by manacles he's not even sure are actually there.]


I don't know how to make it stop... WHY won't it stop!?

[The grief of losing his best friend, so suddenly and violently. The agony of having everyone around him convinced that he was the one who ended that friend's life. The memory of those feelings, it's too sharp, too real.]
deaddrop: (atypus medius)

[personal profile] deaddrop 2023-06-18 12:09 am (UTC)(link)
[Natasha nods, unsure what to say for a long moment. Unsure if she needs to say something.

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself. Letting the feel of falling become distant.

When she feels steady, she sucks her teeth briefly.]


You figure they have something to drink around here?
deaddrop: (pic#15773903)

[personal profile] deaddrop 2023-06-18 12:14 am (UTC)(link)
Hm. [It's a safe topic, at least. Better than other parts of that particular memory. Certainly less revealing.]

The man was a saint that way. Steve and I showed up on his doorstep with a manhunt after us, and he fed us. Then joined in on the chase. He didn't have to do that.
deaddrop: (pic#15124025)

[personal profile] deaddrop 2023-06-18 12:18 am (UTC)(link)
[Natasha pauses when he doesn't let her lay it off as a joke. After a slight hesitation, she abandons the attempt to deflect.]

No, it's not wrong at all. I'd say the opposite, even.
rootlessly: (pic#16305295)

[personal profile] rootlessly 2023-06-18 12:26 am (UTC)(link)
[The nature of the memory has it such that he doesn't quite register it as strange that this girl should address him as Mr. Sholmes, though he's aware of himself enough to be protective all the same, careful to walk ahead of her as they wander into the dark room and look around at all the clutter inside. With nothing specific of apparent note, he eventually settles on following the source of the light.

To Susato, he says:]


Stay behind me.

[Then, calling out again, into the darkness:]

Is anyone here?
deaddrop: (pic#15104713)

[personal profile] deaddrop 2023-06-18 12:41 am (UTC)(link)
[The silence doesn't bother her for the moment. It gives Natasha the opportunity to collect her thoughts.

She looks back more than once, but no one follows, so at least there's that.

When they get to the barn, she slips in with Jim, glancing around for any new threats.]
deaddrop: (pic#16283746)

[personal profile] deaddrop 2023-06-18 12:44 am (UTC)(link)
Infiltration. Deep cover. My "parents"— [The quotations around parents is, in fact, audible.] —Were infiltrating an American intelligence agency. Yelena and I were part of the cover.

Until the mission ended, then...

[The escape in the night, the armed pursuit, the flight to Cuba. Natasha had to fly while Melina bled in the co-pilot's seat.]
dispassioned: (pic#16314432)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-18 12:53 am (UTC)(link)
[He recognizes the defensiveness in the question, not necessarily because of her tone, but because dealing with the fear of judgment by carelessly inviting it is something he's prone to himself. As if it would hurt less if he's braced for it.

Still he sees the irony in his observing this particular memory given their first meeting. He's almost amused by it, in a way. "Princess" ended up being an understatement, in spite of her protests. If her discomfort weren't so clear he might tease her a little, but it's obvious this is a role she was thrust into via circumstances he's still not entirely privvy to, not one she was born to.

But ignoring the elephant room is awkward, too. To just pretend be didn't see it or change the subject might feel condescending somehow, especially after she's invited him to speak.

So, he takes a breath, quirking an eyebrow.]


Well, I see now why you were so irritated when I told you to care less about what people think. Those in the public eye generally have to worry about that, whether they want to or not.

[Not a judgement, just an observation. That's why in his world and time celebrities and politicians hire PR teams. He figures Ravka doesn't have those.]
deaddrop: (pic#15773901)

[personal profile] deaddrop 2023-06-18 12:55 am (UTC)(link)
[A nod. Natasha wonders if she should leave it at that. Probably she should, but the next question is too heavy to keep in. It has to fall.]

Have you seen others go like this?

[Others she's outlived. Implied: does this happen to all immortals?]
a2brutus: (030)

[personal profile] a2brutus 2023-06-18 01:09 am (UTC)(link)
You do you.

[And she just kind of. Watches him go to town on the piece of memory-beef. She's got nothing better to do in this moment, and he's sort of the only one she's remotely close to both physically and relationwise (pathetic).

Which means she's just standing there. In the dark. Arms crossed. It'd probably be awkward for him too, if he wasn't too busy stuffing his mouth.
]

.... How's it taste?

[She's only slightly curious.]
deaddrop: (styposis selis)

[personal profile] deaddrop 2023-06-18 01:19 am (UTC)(link)
I don't know if I have any conclusions.

[And while her tone is contained, she's not without frustration about that. There are too many questions, and too little real information.

What they do know doesn't resolve much.]


I know I don't trust her.

[Probably not a shock.]

And I definitely don't trust this.
karumic: (pic#16368545)

[personal profile] karumic 2023-06-18 01:30 am (UTC)(link)
[Little Kazuma's nose crinkles in offense, the hand immediately retracted.]

I'm not four, I'm seven. And my dad cut my hair!

[The way he says my dad clearly indicates he considers whatever his dad chooses to do to be, objectively, the coolest possible course of action. The man himself continues to stand in place, unmoving, Kazuma's memory not equipped for this kind of improvisation. Genshin Asogi never encountered a talking dog in reality, after all.

Kazuma continues on, heedless.]


He had to do it because Mom says I squirm too much. It's cool.
karumic: (pic#16368518)

[personal profile] karumic 2023-06-18 01:46 am (UTC)(link)
[Kazuma hisses out:] Be quiet.

[Finn's intrusion doesn't register as strange to him, apparently. As if Finn hadn't spoken, Kazuma successfully lurches to his feet and wobbles over to the door, having to fight to keep his balance against both the swaying of the cabin flooring and his own vertigo. Somehow, he manages to brace himself against the door without making any suspicious sounds, and presses his ear against the wood.

Barely audible are indistinct voices, thickly accented and muffled by distance, and the sound of footsteps walking away. Finn will be able to hear them as well as Kazuma, despite not being in a position to do so.

Kazuma's eyes struggle to focus as he concentrates on what he's hearing; the surroundings themselves begin to fuzz and smear together. The proportions of the walls and floors seem off somehow. Sharp. Wrong. Headache-inducing.]


They're leaving. I need to move.
drawsblood: (10)

[personal profile] drawsblood 2023-06-18 01:46 am (UTC)(link)
Good.

[ He bobs his head once in a nod before looking at his lap where minutes ago a flower crown had taken shape. ]

Not that there's much trouble you can get into that you can't get back out of again. Of that I'm sure.
blackfire: (051peku)

[personal profile] blackfire 2023-06-18 01:46 am (UTC)(link)
I am not certain trust is relevant in this case. We know that she was programmed to be what she is, by the maker of this station. We also know that she became corrupted at some point — and depending upon how the time flux aboard the Ximilia works, we could be setting that in motion ourselves simply by being here as we are now.

they can't discount the possibility of a paradox, much as he's loathe to consider it.
peasant: (alina-sab-00004)

[personal profile] peasant 2023-06-18 02:01 am (UTC)(link)
[ that's one way of framing it.

unbidden, she thinks of her image etched beside kirigan, scattered across wanted posters that had found their way across ocean waves. heretic. monster. accomplice. it had only taken one seeming fall from grace for the world to knock her from a pedestal — no longer their shining saint, but something sinful.

her nose crinkles, still, at his rendition of events.
]

Well, no normal person welcomes unsolicited advice.

[ it would be more fitting to say she had been furious, letting anger burn her insides to distract from the familiar sting of hurt. a needle's prick reminder of how eagerly the world leaps toward their conclusions, their expectations, of her — as if she were a heroine in a book, fictitious and designed for their entertainment, and not a woman made from flesh and blood.

she's distinctly lacking in that righteous anger now. because she has — welcomed it, cracked open the door for him to nudge inside.
]

I don't care if the public gossips about the Sun Summoner using the wrong spoon to sip soup. I'm not vain about my reputation.

[ she rolls her lips together, ruminating. her fingers clasp and unclasp, as if cupping the weight of an object only alina's eyes can discern. bitterness leaks into her in a slow trickle. ]

But it gets tiring to hear everyone decide among themselves who you are. Everyone has their own idea of Alina Starkov, and none of it is ever truly me. It's just some version of me they've made up inside their own head.
karumic: (pic#15816803)

[personal profile] karumic 2023-06-18 02:23 am (UTC)(link)
Kazuma looks up, his face now resolute. He shakes his head.

"I know you were only trying to protect me, sir." As far as Kazuma is concerned, Yujin Mikotoba owed him very little, and had provided far beyond that. The only response he deserves in return is gratitude. He certainly has nothing to apologize for. "I made this choice on my own."

And if this was a conversation that was taking place in reality, Kazuma might have stopped there. But the impossibility of the moment, of this conversation that never could have taken place at the time, the nearly dreamlike circumstances--perhaps pushes him into more honesty than he might have shown in truth. His face crumples, and once again he's unable to meet Yujin's eyes.

"How can you ever look at me the same...?"
Edited (HIT SEND TOO EARLY) 2023-06-18 02:24 (UTC)
blackfire: (101oeu)

[personal profile] blackfire 2023-06-18 02:56 am (UTC)(link)
he does not recognize her at first. there is very little in this girl of the confident and powerful sorceress he has become acquainted with over time — but he watches as she draws up to her full height with difficulty, and set her jaw as best she can — it is there that he sees it.

yennefer.

several things click at once in his mind, and his jaw is set in a mirror of her own.

he knows he is in a memory. he knows, too, that he has little power here to affect anything but her waking.

still.

he steps forward, and feels the fabric of the dream resist him as he steps over to her. he says nothing, just looks — truly looks — at her. and then he reaches for her hand, and takes it regardless of the splatter of mud and slop, and turns back to face the sorceress.

he could do here as he did for wei wuxian, and use tsukuyomi to change the fabric of this place. but yennefer is a magic user where wei wuxian is not, and yennefer does not trust him half so much as wei wuxian does. it could be the ruin of her mind to try. so, he will do the next best thing he can think of and simply be there for her, to ease the passage of a cruel memory, and offer what little solace he is able.
dispassioned: (pic#16337965)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-18 02:57 am (UTC)(link)
Hm. It makes sense.

[He supposes that, at the time, she'd felt he was doing the same thing. Maybe he had been, in a way.

Still, this begs another question.]


What do you want them to see?

[It seems to be something of a catch-22. She's someone who values her own privacy, understandably so. But she's stuck in a position where she's on display. The choices seem to be let herself be perceived by the public or let people live with whatever assumptions they want to make. He feels as though neither choice is especially pleasant.]
blackfire: (pic#15232617)

[personal profile] blackfire 2023-06-18 03:04 am (UTC)(link)
that adds an interesting dimension to the game, filling in the gaps of his knowledge and awareness. chishiya's own part in it is still a mystery to him, but he is content to allow it to remain so. his question has been answered to his satisfaction.

so he simply nods, accepting that.


Have you experienced many other memories, yourself?
locumstudentesquire: (pic#16303405)

[personal profile] locumstudentesquire 2023-06-18 03:04 am (UTC)(link)
[Well. Technically she'd be sitting there, since they're both crammed inside a piece of furniture meant for storing jackets and other clothes. Does that make it any better or less awkward? Probably not!]

...It might actually be the best thing I've ever eaten in my life.

[This is not actually true. But in this memory, he was so hungry from splitting meals for so long, anything would have tasted good at that point, provided he got to eat something in a proper portion size. He already has the damn thing gnawed down to the bone when, suddenly, he goes stock still.]

...What was that?

[He leans forward to press his eye to the crack in the wardrobe doors to check what's going on out in the cabin, his whole body tense. If A2 joins him in looking, she'll see it's just Kazuma coming in through the cabin door, and notice Ryunosuke relaxes again once he realizes that.]

Phew. I was worried it might be the steward... Or one of those sailors. See, I'm not technically supposed to be on this ship...?

[He starts explaining this to A2 so conversationally, until suddenly, there's a knock at the door. Ryunosuke goes all tense again. Kazuma looks puzzled, and turns to go answer it.]

Oh no...
dispassioned: (pic#16450018)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-18 03:10 am (UTC)(link)
A few. I've been trying to avoid it.

[He might be prone to curiosity about the people around him, but being shoved into memories is an uncomfortable level of intimacy, actually. He's not a fan.]