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

kenpachi: (pic#15926596)

[personal profile] kenpachi 2023-06-20 02:32 am (UTC)(link)
Loneliness is a powerful driving force.

she has felt it. standing at the top of a mountain of corpses is a desert of its own.

she reaches up, and touches the scar between her suprasternal notch. the only one she has, the only one she couldn't heal.


This was many centuries ago, wasn't it, Miss Andy?
dispassioned: (pic#16362897)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-20 02:34 am (UTC)(link)
Mm. I'd like to.

[And he'd like to do it on his terms, find a way to do it that's fulfilling rather than disheartening, like it had been on Naephus.

He takes a breath, studying her.]


And I still need to cook something for you.

[This little detour into the past, this ximilia with its limited supplies, had put that plan on hold, but he hadn't forgotten it. Though he realizes she might not want to think about food at the moment.]

When your appetite is back. And we're back in the right time period.
doooooog: (g)

[personal profile] doooooog 2023-06-20 02:34 am (UTC)(link)
[ Itachi falls for what feels like hours. Maybe even days. It's hard to say, the only constant is the rush of invisible air and the persistent blackness all around them.

If Itachi breathes in deep through his nose, he'll smell kerosene and rain. If feels himself start to hunger, the rough husk of walnuts grate against his palms. If weariness begins to overtake him, a warm summer rain will beat against his body from somewhere unseen. Four numbers flash through his mind on occasion, leaving a strange impression carved into his head. 7718...

Hunger. Time. Rest. Touch. Mind. Scent. Or somewhere else entirely?

Where does Itachi's mind wander most as he falls? ]
Edited 2023-06-20 02:35 (UTC)
heroooic: (image00018)

[personal profile] heroooic 2023-06-20 02:35 am (UTC)(link)
[ Finn hands the toy back to baby Finn, who snatches it from him with a chubby baby hand, smiling with delight. He squeezes the toy and emit a long, high-pitched squeak. ]

Wait…Jake, you can’t see me? Hell-oo?

[ Seventeen year old Finn waves a hand in front of Jake’s face, while his younger self giggled and pointed, throwing the toy again, full force at Jake this time. ]
coordination: (looking for someone to buy me things)

[personal profile] coordination 2023-06-20 03:01 am (UTC)(link)
No shit I'm not.

[ He speaks like it should be obvious, yet he still seems confused himself. ]

What is this place?
coordination: (a BJ isnt TECHNICALLY cheating)

[personal profile] coordination 2023-06-20 03:03 am (UTC)(link)
[ The first time of many, he thinks. And probably one of the more jarring moments - though he suspects from past tales that she's for sure got a long list of those. ]

Who were they?
bindsthedead: (art-breath)

[personal profile] bindsthedead 2023-06-20 03:06 am (UTC)(link)
[Sabriel eases a little at the laugh, a small smile tugging at her lips.]

I'm not sure if I'd say that- just that I've always been a necromancer.

[Unohana might not be harmless- but that's not the same thing as being a threat.]
blackfire: (pic#15697072)

[personal profile] blackfire 2023-06-20 03:08 am (UTC)(link)
in a way, he has been falling since shisui. seconds. centuries. it is not a new sensation, the swoop of gravity's loss in his gut. a part of him stepped off the cliff and fell. a part of him hit the water there.

a part of him lives forever in the space between the seconds there.

but what sustains him is not rain, not the soft woody scent of pinocarvone. it is faith, and it is love. he thinks of sasuke and of summer days on nakano lake, holding his brother's hands in his as he guided him to walk on water with chakra. he thinks of his mother tugging her hair out of the way so he could stitch a wound along her shoulder, and how she did not make a sound when the needle pierced her skin.

(how she did not make a sound when his sword stuttered and caught against her ribs, blunted and dulled by fourscore and more other bodies that slaked its keen-edged thirst —)

he thinks of izumi, tucking hair behind her ear as she smiled at him. he thinks of her in his arms, the way she had felt so slight and so small when she died. what became of her sharingan? did madara rip them from her skull, or did danzō?

he thinks of — tsukuyomi, the life he built for her within the nightmare realm. sharing sake with sasuke, watching him laughing as tiny dark-haired children clamber over him and practice the word ojichan while itachi and izumi watch on —

it had been less than a second. it had been a lifetime of love. he had poured everything he had into giving everyone he cared for, everyone he had killed a perfect life. but it was equally as much the last act of kindness he had given himself, or perhaps more accurately — that he had permitted himself to hold.

(married. a father. an uncle. he lacked the ego to imagine himself as hokage, but he had envisioned shisui there. the first uchiha hokage, the robes of the station emblazoned with the word godaime.)

and then the moment had been over — and it was only the rush of water coming up to meet him from the step he did not take, from the fall he did not make.

(he pulled shisui's body from the river, afterwards. it was the first thing he ever burnt with amaterasu, and the blood on his cheeks had been like rain.)
peasant: (alina46361)

[personal profile] peasant 2023-06-20 03:08 am (UTC)(link)
[ predictably, her stomach roils in protest. that appetite isn't going to make its triumphant return any time in the near future, but that serves her well enough. the texture of pasty rations isn't an appealing meal, nutritionally balanced or otherwise.

the corners of her mouth still manage the dying spasms of a smile, regardless. it's such a small reason for anticipating the future, but when you're so certain of your inevitable death ... she understands how it's the minute comforts that keep them all pushing forward.

accepting her own martyrdom as an eventual end to her story had made everything seem brighter, itself.

her fingers drift down his forearms to his hands, snagging up his fingers. they offer a comforting squeeze before she threads them together, loosely laced.
]

You're not going to try to impress me with freeze-dried mystery meats?

[ the teasing in that joke falls half-way flat, with all that's been witnessed today. but — an attempt was made, all the same. ]
coordination: (Bring a mouthguard)

not me,,,,,, LOSING THIS!!!!!!!

[personal profile] coordination 2023-06-20 03:11 am (UTC)(link)
[ Ryu seems focused on Kazuma, so perhaps he will not note the way the corners of Yzak's own mouth twitch upward the tiniest bit when Kazuma makes that remark about him. ]

You shoved yourself in a box? [ He sounds incredulous. ] What the hell is so important that you need to do something like that?
doooooog: (g)

[personal profile] doooooog 2023-06-20 03:12 am (UTC)(link)
I am the end, W̵̧͖͔̯̱̔́͆̂̊e̴̛̪̻͉̙̍̓̈́͝͝i̸̪͓͎͙͌͆͝ ̸̰̥͊̇͂͋Ỳ̷̰̇͑̎͆͒ĭ̶̡͕̥̥ṉ̷̠̺̐̅g̴̢̨͚͖͐̒̎̈̈.

[ In whatever way it mattered in a memory that did not belong fully to him, Wei Ying was dying.

The dog bracelet throbs at his wrist as the rosy shadow begins to flicker like a fading candle. With each flash a new shape emerges, a new silhouette rising up against the darkness with hope edged brightly at their edges. The figures come to Wei Ying with their arms outstretched towards him in a desperate embrace; a tragically young couple, a stern but sturdy man, a warm and loving young woman, the sly face of a dear friend, the eager frame of a bouncing child, that same bouncing child now grown into a young man that surges pride through Wei Wuxian's last choked moments.

And when the shadow shifts again into the achingly familiar outline of a man who once meant everything to him, the vice grip around his neck only tightens. It wouldn't be long now. ]


And I have come for you.

[ Whether the shadow was still trying to beckon him closer or if his mind was simply taking the visual metaphor offered and running away with it, as Wei Wuxian takes another agonizing step forward he'll see it change once more. Unlike before, these shapes don't come from the home he once knew, but rather the home he knows now. The broad sturdy shoulders and confident stance of his friend, the plucky defiance of his A-Xing, the familiar slight form of the dear one he'd grieved, the desperately hopeful reach of his shǎguā, pouring his entire heart into it as always.

And finally, a simple hand outstretched, to the man who had come to mean home as much as any memory or voice could hope to fashion for him.

There is only once choice for Wei Wuxian now.

Take his hand or stay and perish. ]
coordination: (I BLOW VETERANS)

[personal profile] coordination 2023-06-20 03:13 am (UTC)(link)
"That world" looked and sounded a lot like Earth's Japan.

Why do you need to play games to live?
doooooog: (ff)

[personal profile] doooooog 2023-06-20 03:17 am (UTC)(link)
[ There's no reaction as Jake quickly stretches his head into a donut shape, allowing the toy to pass right through and hit the back of the wall with a sharp squeak. ]

Whoa, easy, bro! You wanna take my eye out? [ Jake pushes through Finn as if he weren't there at all, handing his little brother his toy back. ]

Ghost! [ The baby explains again, pointing to Finn. ]

I heard you the first time. What's with you today?
dispassioned: (pic#16317304)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-20 03:22 am (UTC)(link)
There's no saving the mystery meats.

[Especially not someone with his limited culinary experience.

But he wonders if she understood what he was trying to say. He realizes sometimes she misses his point when he's indirect about it.

He seems suddenly important that she understand, since she was forced to witness this particular moment of his life.]


Spending time with you makes a difference, too.

[Feeling a connection with someone who is present and alive. It's hard to deny the positive influence of something like that, especially when he's felt so few connections in his life.]
singlelogbridge: (176)

[personal profile] singlelogbridge 2023-06-20 03:27 am (UTC)(link)
[Wei Wuxian has seen a lot in his time aboard the Ximilia, both wonderful and terrible. He's seen whole worlds destroyed by the pollution of industry, afterlives where anything was possible, and entire civilizations that existed entirely within the ocean. Still. Still he sometimes finds himself amazed by the "wonders" of other worlds, as this can't be anything but another orber's memory.]

Who lives in a world where it rains knives? Why would it do that? [He shrieks into the storm, immediately scrambling over to the single house in view.

Did he say wonders? Wonders might not have been the right word.
]
Edited 2023-06-20 03:27 (UTC)
coordination: (How many dollars do I have? All of them.)

[personal profile] coordination 2023-06-20 03:38 am (UTC)(link)
Sabriel.

[ He speaks her name the moment the environment around them shifts and darkens and he makes her out in this dimly lit building that's more like a morgue with the bodies strewn around. It all unsettles him, though it's less of a unsettling than it might be with anyone else. He knows enough of Sabriel's world and pieces of her life to know Kerrigor, but as to what in particular is happening here, he's a bit more unsure.

Not that that feeling stops him from acting. ]


Sabriel!

[ When her sword is grabbed, and her arm seized, Yzak moves. Can he do anything here? Can he interact with the memory at all? He doesn't know.

He doesn't care.

He moves anyway, reaching for his concealed blade to try and take a swipe at Kerrigor's wrist. ]
dispassioned: (pic#16314423)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-20 03:59 am (UTC)(link)
[He slips his hands back into his pockets again now that he’s taken the collar off.]

Exactly. So why the curiosity?

[Cruelty for the sake of cruelty could be its own explanation. There could be more to Borderland than that, but maybe there’s not. Neither possibility seems impossible to him at this point.

He could say as much. That he doesn’t know anything for sure. But something about Aleksander's general demeanor brings out his more evasive tendencies, puts his back up the same way the games did. Admitting a weakness, a gap in his knowledge, seems like a bad idea.]
coordination: (sorry to disappoint you ladies)

[personal profile] coordination 2023-06-20 04:01 am (UTC)(link)
[ He can't see, but he can still roll his eyes at her lighthearted remarks. It's not dismissive, at least, more exasperated because Yzak is just like a cranky old man sometimes. And he's extra cranky right now. ]

Stations like this should be better taken care of where dust is concerned. Life in space takes a lot because of how much could go wrong if you slack up on the upkeep.

Though, I guess if it managed until we arrived, then they eventually got their shit together.
peasant: (alina29996)

[personal profile] peasant 2023-06-20 04:04 am (UTC)(link)
[ it's a terrifying confession, to have a fraction of responsibility for another's happiness. it's a thrilling shock, too, to be an important stitch woven through someone else's life. she stumbles into a smile, more pronounced by the crinkles at her eyes. ]

So I'm one of those "things you want to do".

[ it breaks through some of the depressive veil that drapes around the room, that burst of levity. her dimples carve into her cheeks, then fall to regard him with an attentive tenderness, stroking soft fingers absently over the backs of his knuckles. ]

Makes a difference how?
dispassioned: (pic#16249602)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-20 04:40 am (UTC)(link)
[The joke startles a laugh out of him, his own cheeks dimpling with the smile that comes with it. He can’t deny it’s true, even if that wasn’t what he meant.]

And I wasn’t even trying to be incorrigible that time.

[Apparently, it’s just another natural talent of his.

Her follow up question really seems to answer itself in the face of his amusement. Honest amusement with nothing derisive or mocking behind it.]


Well, you make me smile.

[That's obvious right now, isn’t it? It should be.

But there are a lot of ways she’s made a difference. Like he told her last time they spoke he feels comfortable and accepted with her. She seems to like him and want him around. Little things that can mean a lot to someone who grew up lonely and unable to fit in.

But she’s also had an effect on his world view, reinforced some of the positive lessons he learned in Borderland, encouraged him to expand his horizons a little.]


And you inspired me to look at things differently. To try things.
Edited 2023-06-20 04:41 (UTC)
dispassioned: (pic#16258418)

No problem!!

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-20 05:13 am (UTC)(link)
[Well. This is interesting. Chishiya watches the memory play out, the only hint of recognition in his expression is the faint upward tick of one eyebrow when Alina enters the tent. Excellent poker face, as always.

It’s not a long memory, but it tells him quite a bit. Possibly more than either Alina or Aleksander would want him to know, with the way it slots a few puzzle pieces into place.

When the memory ends he announces his presence with a question.]


What’s a volcra?

[If Aleksander can ask him annoying questions about his memory, Chishiya can return the favor.]
Edited 2023-06-20 05:14 (UTC)
peasant: (alina-ep2-11)

[personal profile] peasant 2023-06-20 05:31 am (UTC)(link)
A first for you.

[ the lack of incorrigibility. a smile enmeshed in sincerity. a new viewpoint. her quip encapsulates all of the above, to the point where she feels no need to offer clarification. a glint of a clandestine smile sparks in her eyes in response, circling her thumb absently over the bones in his wrist.

there's no promise the next world will allow them the same freedoms. that it will be so liberal with what it has to offer. but —
]

Next planet, we'll find more things for you to try. Carry on the tradition.

[ he very well doesn't seem the type to write and pocket a list of all the adventures he's never had. but everyone has to start somewhere on a blank page. a dimpled divot makes its reappearance as she leans in, pressing her mouth to what she can reach with easy effort — the underside of his chin, as it turns out, soft and chaste. ]

Sounds like you're in need of a compass for these sorts of things.
Edited 2023-06-20 05:32 (UTC)
dispassioned: (pic#16369358)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-20 05:45 am (UTC)(link)
[He moves to follow Itachi out of the room, and doesn’t question his use of cardstock over using the network to share the map. He can’t blame him for his caution, all things considered.

But when he takes the map and looks at it, his eyebrows quirk upward in amusement.]


"A rough map," huh?

[This isn’t rough. He’s seen a "rough" map map before and it took him weeks to figure out what it even was. This has a cartographer’s level of precision.]
dispassioned: (pic#16296979)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-20 06:25 am (UTC)(link)
[The lack of incorrigiblilty might not last long, honestly. But the other items on the list have the possibility for longevity.

He hums softly, his heart shuddering in his chest as she kisses his chin.]


Do you think so?

[He murmurs thoughtfully as he tips his head downward, brushing his lips against the corner of her mouth.

He hadn't thought of it has needing a compass, but maybe she's right. He hasn't had many people offer him things like encouragement. Things that would act as a compass and provide direction when he needed it. A few teachers here and there telling him he was smart and had potential, but that's it. Until Borderland, anyway.]
peasant: (alina12266)

[personal profile] peasant 2023-06-20 06:47 am (UTC)(link)
I do. Luckily, I'm not the worst at navigation.

[ it doesn't take much thought. not when his compass had surely been pointed toward death and nothingness. who better to redirect him, help him chart a new course forward, than a retired mapmaker?

she lets the words absorb into his cheek, the pointed tip of her nose swiping up to meet his. with it comes the first wave of calm that's swept over her all day, some transient semblance of peace she knows will dissipate like a phantom. but for now —

gingerly, she sets her hands atop the nape of his neck, weaving her fingers together behind his head like latticework.
]

For what it's worth ... I am grateful you didn't give up hope. I'd have never known you, if you had.

[ perhaps it's a selfish, warped sentiment to give. that man's disintegrating body is still fresh in her mind — a statement that had come at a cost. chishiya only lives because he had chosen the peace of sacrifice. but it feels worse, still, to minimize the mercy that he had paid chishiya, that day.

a second chance not taken is a second chance wasted.
]
Edited 2023-06-20 06:49 (UTC)