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: (dd)

[personal profile] doooooog 2023-07-15 04:12 am (UTC)(link)
[ Jake heaves a sigh, recalling similar moments over the course of his life. Not with his own children; they'd grown so fast, too fast. His sons and daughters skipped right over nightmares and nightlights and tumbled headfirst into the existential crises of their twenties before Jake knew which way was up.

He always planned on being there for all of it; the highs and lows of parenthood. Only it was over in a blink and suddenly, the idea of being on call for problems bigger than sleepless nights terrified him back into the easy escapism of his little brother. The boy had been a kid for the entirety of Jake's life; a welcome balm against the grown up problems of his grown children.

He never planned to miss it.

Something in the way Ben spoke the words ached with the same regret, however amplified it was by circumstance. ]


No matter what happened, it's obvious how you feel about him. Kids pick up on that. They know when they're loved.
ascetical: (06)

[personal profile] ascetical 2023-07-15 04:32 am (UTC)(link)
Yes.

[ Ben could deny it even now, if he wanted to. The Jedi are taught to have as few attachments in their lives as possible because attachment led to deeper thoughts; it led to a bias. It could even, at its most desperate hour, lead to the dark side.

Of course, it was difficult not to love Anakin. The boy had lost so much in his short life, and the two of them instantly shared the bond of the loss of Qui-Gon Jinn. And beyond that, he was smart and funny and curious, and throughout the years he had become so unceasingly loyal. He would do anything for Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan — despite everything he'd learned, everything he had been taught, found it was easy to become loyal to Anakin too.

But after spending more than a month's time with the Ximilia crew, and with the memory laid bare before them, it seems a disservice to keep quiet. Worse to lie. ]


He was my student, what we call a padawan, and I was his teacher. I think I've told you that once before, that I used to teach.

But more than that, he ... became a brother to me.
doooooog: (dd)

[personal profile] doooooog 2023-07-15 04:41 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's that word, brother, that suddenly clicks the scene in front of him into sharper clarity.

The unsure man in his twenties, suddenly caring for a young child after the death of too many in both their lives. The lack of stability, the brittleness of every moment, it was suddenly so familiar Jake felt as if his heart might beat out of his own chest. ]


I know a few things about that. The whole big brother thing. [ He huffs out, swallowing thickly against his own memories and funneling the noise into a laugh. ] You gotta be mom, dad, playmate, teacher, personal chef, and worst of all? You kinda need them to take care of you as much as they need you to take care of them.

[ He paws at the ground, allowing himself to be briefly distracted by how the texture of it matched the floor of the alternate Ximilia instead of the smooth sleeping quarters that surrounded them. ]

Dunno who that's harder on, but let's be real... probably them.
ascetical: (11)

[personal profile] ascetical 2023-07-15 04:58 am (UTC)(link)
[ Ben had been so focused on the small, sleeping form of Anakin next to his old bed that it takes him a moment ... and Jake's words to pull his attention back to his present, and his reality.

The young man asleep in his bed, that is him but it isn't. That Obi-Wan doesn't know the pain of real loss, and of war, and of losing everything in a manner of months. He doesn't know yet what it means to lose your entire community, and then to become hunted like an animal, to be driven into hiding, to be forced to sever his tie to everything he'd given himself to. To break his connection to the Force.

Ben lifts a hand to rub at the spot between his eyes and then he glances down at the yellow dog standing next to him. His presence here is so impossible, it's the perfect cue to ground him back to who he really is.

He feels ... old. ]


I had some time to wonder whether I'd gone about teaching him all wrong. Perhaps I pushed him too hard, or perhaps I didn't push hard enough.

[ He lets his hand drop back down to his side. ]

I don't think I allowed him to take care of me. [ Not in so many ways, at least. And was that what had started to cause the rift between them? Some imbalance between their roles, perhaps? He could never be sure — and perhaps he'd never really know now. ] I suppose you speak of the boy, Finn? Did he take care of you too?
doooooog: (rrrrrrrrr)

[personal profile] doooooog 2023-07-15 05:09 am (UTC)(link)
[ There's a beat of pause as Jake digests that statement. Ben was old enough to have done more than enough self reflection on the scene playing out in front of them and everything it implied, and yet Jake couldn't help doubting him.

To choose to make someone a brother instead of a son, to seek a relationship defined by going through life together as comrades and allies and friends over the built in distance of a parent and child... perhaps it was the dualling of their cultures, but Jake found unable to buy what the man was selling him.

Not that he's eager to be so blunt. Not when the beginnings of that relationship sat in front of them, only a ghost of what it would one day become. ]


Of course he did. [ Jake nods, voice mild and unashamed. ] I mean, it's not like he made me dinner or tucked me in or anything, but nobody could make a bad day good like that kid clowning up to me with his goofy wooden sword. He made every day an adventure. Even when stuff was bad and I was totally outta my depth, he kept me going.

[ Jake caps it with a soft laugh, glancing back up at Ben -- the real one, lines marking his face with age. ]

You're saying this kid never did that for you?
ascetical: (04)

[personal profile] ascetical 2023-07-15 05:31 am (UTC)(link)
[ He kept me going, Jake says, and it's so matter-of-fact that Ben picks up on it immediately, every other sentiment punctuating what feels so familiar to him too. Different circumstances, certainly, but throughout their training and travels across the galaxy, did Anakin not make every day an adventure too?

(Even when he did act out? Even when he rebelled against something he'd tried to teach him?) ]


Is that what it means to be taken care of?

[ Maybe there really had been something wrong with the way the Jedi were educated if he can't even discern the difference between taking care of someone and teaching them, and being cared for in return.

Ben nods now and he feels that familiar pressure in his chest, like fingers wrapped around his heart, squeezing just a little tighter. ]


Well then, I think you must be right. [ He can admit that.

They were inseparable. They became known heroes as a pair; and neither one would be mentioned without the other. ]
I suppose he did take care of me in his own way.
doooooog: (wwwwww)

you are killing me with this man. i hope you're happy.

[personal profile] doooooog 2023-07-15 05:51 am (UTC)(link)
[ Whether it was the high of being agreed with or simply the companionable feeling of standing alongside a man Jake felt he understood better than he did before, his tail begins a slow wag. The remembered room around them was beginning to blur at the corners, the orb shard's influence thinning the closer they got to the real world. ]

They try their best. Just like us, right? [ He elbows him gently, if a little ruefully. ] We're all just doing the best we can with the hand we're dealt.

[ He pauses a moment, breathing in and out with quiet weight as the world begins to blur further. ]

I don't know how things turned out for you two, man, but... from what I can see, you gave that kid what he needed back then. And it sounds like maybe he gave you what you needed, too.
ascetical: (62)

it takes two to tango buddy!!!

[personal profile] ascetical 2023-07-15 06:22 am (UTC)(link)
[ Perhaps it's this revelation that guides the memory forward, moving it to its full realization and eventual conclusion. Ben sees the way the room around them begins to shimmer too, the figures of the sleeping boys still visible on a peaceful Coruscant night, but fainter now too.

He dips his head slightly.

For what he knew then and what he could give Anakin, he did. But as the years passed and Anakin grew up into a formidable Jedi Knight and a soldier and Master in his own right, there had been things he wishes now he could have changed, even though a Jedi should not cling to regrets, nor should they hold onto the past either. But Ben hasn't been a Jedi for a decade now. What meaning do these teachings really hold for him anymore?

The question of 'how things turned out' gives him pause, and now Ben wonders whether he could divulge in a little more. There are no memories to expose his secrets, allowing them to remain hidden deep in his heart.

But he hasn't spoken of any of this aloud, not with anyone but the ghost of his former Master. And even then ... being met with an empty cave or the endless desert sky, it had been unsuccessful. So now he speaks — as much as he's comfortable with, anyway. ]


I was too young then to be his Master. To be anyone's Master. But I did try. [ He'd taught Anakin differently from how Qui-Gon would have, to be sure, but there is no denying that he tried. ] We learned together, Anakin and I. But in the end, I didn't give him enough. I lost him.
softshoes: (👞 38)

[personal profile] softshoes 2023-07-15 06:27 am (UTC)(link)
[The words are a familiar, although not entirely accurate, echo of their last adventure together. Just as Yujin's contemplating what that might mean, he's spinned. A fond smile tugs at his lips as he follows his partner's lead, making an instinctive series of forward-side-together after Sholmes. Ten years ago, it might've tempted him into a break.]

I sense a distinctly musical theme to this deduction. It is-- ah!

[Yujin laughs fondly. Though one of his hands still holds the Stradivarius, he reaches toward his neck with the other: expecting, maybe, to feel his fingers card through the mess of Sholmes' blonde curls. There and yet not there. Instead, his fingertips find his own throat.]

It's apt, you know. [A note that hangs-- waiting, wanting. Voice wistful, he replies:] The violin isn't here, and neither are you. The two of us are a tune played back by a gramophone.
deferences: dns (♪ satisfied)

[personal profile] deferences 2023-07-15 07:54 am (UTC)(link)
[how lucky he is to be proven right, and if there's ever a time where sizhui learns this, he'll have to do his absolute best to keep himself from bursting with happiness— which honestly might be impossible, given the circumstances.

still, that doesn't keep him from smiling now, especially after jake's remark, even if he doesn't quite understand the second half of it; a compliment is a compliment, after all.

while sizhui would normally ask, he figures it's better saved for later, when jake isn't inquiring about the location and he's all too eager to provide,
] Yiling, back home. It was. [pause] Ah... is. [‘was’ because those were much simpler times with the people he cared for.]
cruelyethuman: (0020)

[personal profile] cruelyethuman 2023-07-15 10:14 am (UTC)(link)
Life? Life is precious. Priceless and worth fighting for. Lives, on the other hand... [Trailing off for a second, before he continues] lives are cheap.

Most live their lives never looking up, never seeing what is right in front of them. Never stopping to think that it could be more than this.

[Not the life on the station, but in the broader sense.]

And you are not curious. [Another statement as the illusion falls and they step out of the dream. The memory. Walking from one set of sterile walls to the next.] And you ask I would be curious about you.
dispassioned: (pic#16304758)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-07-15 12:24 pm (UTC)(link)
[What an interesting take that is. It seems stark contrast to Kuzuryu and his struggle with fairness and how to decide the value of life. A philosophy that would make it easy to justify throwing lives away all the while claiming your intentions were good, that you were fighting for something. Defending life as a philosophical concept but conveniently ignoring real people.

He hums softly.]


There's something to be said for accepting that you’re not entitled to every answer you seek.

[This is true, really, and something he had to acknowledge himself, in Borderland. That maybe the answers about it were not his to find. It was Arisu and Usagi who made it to the final game, perhaps they would learn something there.

But there’s also a pointed dryness to his tone. As if to imply that Aleksander seems a little too keen on asking questions of people he barely knows.

Then he quirks an eyebrow and cants his head thoughtfully to the side.]


Or maybe I’m just one of those idiots who doesn’t look up.

[His tone is still dry, but there’s more amusement in it now.]
Edited (Wording) 2023-07-15 20:14 (UTC)
doooooog: (eeeee)

[personal profile] doooooog 2023-07-15 03:06 pm (UTC)(link)
I'm your biggest question, homie!?

[ Jake's voice is half shouted, half laughed, responding immediately to the grip by stretching in a tight coil up Strange's arm. Protection wasn't on his mind; Jake's only goal here was staying together. Memories were tricky, weird, surreal things -- this one more than most. The last thing he needed was to get sucked into some dark recess of the doctor's mind, stuck with some long-buried childhood trauma or latent phobia.

Together, they smash into the Rippling Something Wall with all the subtlety of belly flopping into a lake. It knocks the air from Jake's lungs -- no doubt a sense memory of his own he was bringing to the table, rather than a genuine physical reaction -- struggling mightily to take in wherever they were now through the stinging air blurring his vision. ]
rehandle: (pic#16175958)

cw: hands and eye... squick....????

[personal profile] rehandle 2023-07-15 03:44 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Too bad about those latent phobias and dark recesses, buddy, because what they appear to be surrounded by now are caverns and caverns with walls made of... hands. Hands and hands and hands and hands, and as soon as they're noticed those hands start reaching and grasping and grabbing for them. They grip Stephen by the leg, the wrist, and duly captured Stephen watches in horror as from each of his own hand's fingertips a new hand grows, from each new hand's fingertips a new hand, ad infinitum while more of the wall hands reach from him out along the limb that binds Doctor Strange to the little dog that doesn't belong here and grab for him too.

Grasping hands swarm them like flies until they're inevitably overwrought, and out of the mass of writhing hands forms... Stephen's shocked face. Suddenly they're not in the hands anymore but falling once again, right toward his wide open eye, and as they fall into his pupil it swallows them into yet another tunnel and spits them out into a realm of crystalline fractals.

There's room here to float and to fall, mirrored walls of blue giving way to looming crystals that splinter into little kalaedoscopic wonderlands on contact. There's something fragile about this place, like they might shatter through at any time, and beyond that glasslike layer looms something else entirely: angry purples, spitting reds, masses of grim light in the darkness. ]


Dog. Dog! [ Frantic, seeking anything stable... and then, suddenly - ] Jake?
doooooog: (ll)

i feel like i finally understand how people feel when they tell me MY canon is bizarre

[personal profile] doooooog 2023-07-15 05:08 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Human slang was rife aboard the Ximilia, but Jake never found himself overly tempted by it. His Oooian grizes, bjorks, boingaloings, and grease suited most situations just fine.

Then again, there were a few words that had a certain je nais se quoi that suited specific occasions. Somewhere between the hand cave and the finger face and the fractal representation of what Jake had to assume was insanity itself, one of those specific occasions arose spectacularly. ]


The fuck, man.

[ His own name shatters the shock as cleanly as the world just shattered around them, tearing Jake's gaze away from the monstrous being behind what felt like a profoundly inadequate pane of glass. When his eyes fall on Dr. Strange, it's with paws outstretched in naked bafflement. ]

Are you like, okay, bro!?
rehandle: (frathouse26)

no higher accolade has ever been given

[personal profile] rehandle 2023-07-15 05:42 pm (UTC)(link)
[ And here, Stephen has the unrivalled audacity to huff a laugh. The man even sounds wry. ]

Please. This was day one stuff.

[ Then he catches a glimpse of the blurred face yawning in the darkness beyond their meagre protection, and humour dries right up.

Now is perhaps the worst possible time for him to have come out of the memory's hold on him. Clueless and screaming Stephen wouldn't have known to do anything in the face of Dormammu but cluelessly scream. Conscious and capable Stephen, on the other hand - has a bad feeling. A wave of his hand snatches Jake in a slipstream of magic and pulls them together. He grabs him around the middle, all trace of play gone. ]


This might get messy. If it does I'll keep him occupied, but if I get lost again you're on finding the exit.

[ The mirror holds, for now, but they don't have long. Details will have to wait for later. ]

Just don't get in the way.
morethan084: (upset/annoyed)

[personal profile] morethan084 2023-07-15 09:59 pm (UTC)(link)
No, you really don’t.

[And even if he did, she would never admit to it. Not now.]

There’s no amount of begging you could ever do that would make reconsider. I just don’t want someone else walking in on this.
tochnyy: (m0189)

[personal profile] tochnyy 2023-07-16 03:13 am (UTC)(link)
How'd they choose to do that? Sending no delegation? [ something less petty than that? more? there's plenty room to interpret what alina has said but, for once, the composure she holds makes her harder to read than the girl that stood at his side for nearly a whole lifetime.

there is no sea between them and yet there may as well be.

and then there's the sign of it, the small motion that draws mal's gaze to her hands. he could call her bluff for it but he's given up that places. he should honor it, if they are meant to find each other naturally once again.
] The two of you are a good team, from what I hear.

Ravka's lucky.
hindsights: (33)

[personal profile] hindsights 2023-07-16 04:11 am (UTC)(link)
[ it's strange to know that somewhere out there, the things that plague his galaxy don't exist at all. cal knows that he's spent years too focused on the thought of revenge on the empire, even in hiding, that he's ignored the possibility of it. even on the ximilia, it catches him off guard. ] Sorry, not much of that made sense then.

[ but the matter of jedi is complicated. cal nods slowly, not because he knows rey is a jedi from speaking to her but because of finn. finn, who's now gone but told cal that the fighting goes on for at least fifty years. ] I was. I mean-- I am.

[ then he offers a sheepish smile. ] It isn't really a good thing anymore back home.

And Rey's from my future. I guess the Order's back when she's from if she's one. [ of everything he'd mentioned, finn didn't explain how rey was a member of the jedi order or if there was one at all. ]
tochnyy: (WEvBjE6)

[personal profile] tochnyy 2023-07-16 04:45 am (UTC)(link)
No. It was treated back home. [ then he pauses, looks down and shakes his head.

treated is an overstatement.
] Alina found some berries to make a salve for the wound.
dispassioned: (pic#16302413)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-07-16 05:17 am (UTC)(link)
[He quirks an eyebrow. So he’s another Ravkan.]

Did she?

[Actually, that’s not terribly surprising. Alina did express an interest in healing to him once before, though she didn’t mention having experience with it in any capacity. Then again, she probably wouldn’t if she felt her own knowledge paled in comparison to his.]

But no…Heartrender…looked at it?

[That's the word for the powered healers from their world, if he remembers correctly. And he usually remembers correctly.]
winscenario: (nineteen.)

[personal profile] winscenario 2023-07-16 07:27 pm (UTC)(link)
Let's just say it's more the norm than the exception.

[ He's not a particularly sore loser, though, he's just really good at winning. And yeah, he likes to show off sometimes. ]

I've always been good at games. Not just guessing games either, just generally any game that exercises the mind.
peasant: (alina31516)

[personal profile] peasant 2023-07-17 04:01 am (UTC)(link)
[ relief expands her chest with deepening breath. she's under no illusion that sabriel believes the flimsy lie she's woven together, delicate like gossamer threads — and just as prone to snapping. that's fine and well, truly. she doesn't need sabriel's to believe her; she only needs her to be loyal to the truth alina has written. ]

That's right.

[ a heavy exhale flares her nostrils. it does little to stabilize the judder of her voice; does little to smooth the shaky points of her fingers as they come to rise to sabriel's. caked blood mingles with dusty desert, her hands a portrait of violence beneath the sun.

( that's not what's important, now. it's a miracle she can even feel the heat of light baking down on them where the fold had once stood, an impenetrable fortress of shadow. )
]

I've already performed one miracle for today.

[ light scorches into her eyesight as her face tilts toward a clear sky, forcing her into a squint. ]

It's gone. That should be enough.

[ or, perhaps more accurately, it should have been enough. mal had laid his life on the line for it. her suffering had culminated in this. and still — some broken part of her aches, all the same. ]
choicely: (pic#15495640)

cw: mentions of suicide, depression

[personal profile] choicely 2023-07-17 03:39 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It had felt as painful, as distinctive, as the loss of a limb — and she's heard those sorts of horror stories, about mages who are essentially cut off from being able to channel because of damage to their hands, irreparable wounds that no amount of chaos can repair. It is no wonder, then, that some of them simply choose to end their own lives rather than exist in a world where the magic is right there, just out of reach, but there is no route available to reach for it.

Being without it had been akin to looking at the world through a muted lens — sights, sounds, tastes all dulled in her awareness. She had been incapable of as little as siphoning life into the tiniest flower, something that even a mere novice with the smallest potential for chaos would have been able to achieve.

That mission she'd been without it had only been a fraction of that loss — she'd felt the magic at her fingertips, but even then, she hadn't been allowed to access it. After Sodden, she hadn't felt it at all.

Then again, that mission had brought her into the path of someone unexpected, someone who stands before her now, and Yennefer blinks, returning to more of herself, as the memory starts to flicker and fade around them. ]


... yes. [ The chaos is there, truly, if she reaches for it; she can feel it just there, pulling her back to the present, back to the truth of her existence. Back to where they really stand, on the station, rather than on the scorched hills of that battlefield. But she rises to her feet and only just barely avoids a stumble, stretching out a hand to steady herself as she grips tight onto his arm. ]

I haven't thought about that night so vividly in... some time.
choicely: (pic#16333783)

[personal profile] choicely 2023-07-17 03:46 pm (UTC)(link)
Ironic, especially, since that sphere was not always theirs. They were brought here.

[ There is more of what she understands to be true, about the Conjunction, about the strange event that had led to a collapse between worlds — and elves had suddenly found themselves sharing their own with humans, and monsters. Ironically, it would be the former that would turn out to be the greater threat to their existence.

She doesn't shrink away, doesn't attempt to avoid the touch of his hand — it grounds her further, to the present, pulling her away from the strength of that memory. ]


I haven't thought about that day in many years. [ She'll permit him to lead her, too, even if she glances back once as if still expecting to see the farm standing there. ]