![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ximilian) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ximilialog2023-12-07 02:19 pm
STATION LOG.04
● ● ● S T A T I O N 4 . 0
Throughout the month of December, the Orbers will find that the door to the North Wing is sometimes left open — perhaps, at this point in their stay, the two permanent residents of the wing trust the other inhabitants of the station to tread with care.
Should anyone slip through the doorway, they will find that the large sphere, crackling sharply with magical energy front and centre and surrounded by open circulation, is still there, and so are the orbs it houses, many more now than a year ago at this time, swirling inside it. The voices are still there, too, whispering, sometimes louder, sometimes barely heard; sometimes threatening, sometimes offering everything you could imagine, if you just take a step closer — and one more, one more...
However, if you do, the barrier will not hesitate to throw you across the room, a safety measure both for you as much as it is for the orbs. That very barrier is what takes up most of Degar’s time, and he can be often seen striding into the barrier like it doesn’t exist, spending hours upon hours inside the barrier, fortifying it, making sure there isn’t even the smallest crack that could spread when the orbs are finally all together.
The rest of the North Wing remains as it has been: in the AI maintenance room, 0-L1V-14 still remains in Viveca’s old body, walled off from the systems of the station, but still online, with Viveca trying to spare a few moments each day to fix her coding, revert her back to the uncorrupted version she used to be.
The former team’s living quarters are still unchanged, too — or perhaps “carefully preserved” would be the better term, every single bed and item where it had been last left by their owners. The room may mean more to those, now, who had witnessed the old memories during June’s mission: the small elephant toy bringing to mind Yudae, clutching her daughter’s toy in one of the memories; the leather jacket Emerton always wore left bundled on one of the beds; a large, well-carved bow resting against the wall; a pile of neatly-arranged books underneath a bedside table.
In the power and life support room, most of the pods lining the room are still decorated with a glowing, blue stripe; all but one, which has a red one. The large room connected to it on the side, with one chair in the middle, is often occupied by Viveca — though just as often, she sits in the chair with a vacant expression, pupils moving infinitesimally, as if scanning something no one else can see.
With Viveca working hard to locate the last two orbs and Degar dedicating most of his time to containing the restless energies of those that have already been acquired, there’s really not much else to do but play the waiting game. Fortunately, the season the station has timed itself to is steadily approaching what many know as winter, making for a number of seasonably-themed options with which to distract oneself.
1.0 Though most of the Ximilia remains relatively the same, hanging from the ceiling at different parts of the station will be an unassuming sprig of mistletoe — a holdover from a previous celebration of festivities. The mistletoe (brought over from the lush forests of the planet Yeviunus) come pre-charmed with a small spell that invokes a feeling of peace and affection, meant to encourage camaraderie among the crew. Of course the festive foliage is easy enough to avoid, and the spell’s potency depends on the Orber’s susceptibility to influence.
2.0 Any members of the crew wish for a little more wintery ambiance are welcome to take a stroll in the sunlight room. (Don’t worry, this room’s projected sun is a very regular sun of the Earth variety. No watching pupils here!) Every day a fresh blanket of snow covers the ground, thick enough for one’s feet to sink into and leave impressions, and the air is crisp and full of the scents of various conifers.
The pond has frozen over, making a perfect canvas for ice fishing and ice skating. Fishing poles, hockey sticks, and ice skates of every possible size and shape can be found around the pond’s shoreline, ready for use.
Every evening, right as the sun dips into the horizon and the temperatures drop drastically, large bonfire crackles away in the room’s largest clearing. Scattered around are conveniently-placed fallen logs to offer any interested party view of the calming scene, with plenty of knitted blankets for everyone who might want one. (Or not! Perhaps there is a blanket-thief among you, and poor Orbers may be forced to share a blanket between them. Woe!)
Located not too far from the bonfire is an out-of-season tiki bar that is nevertheless doing its best. It is always fully stocked, with plenty of options for even the most discerning of drinkers.
Elsewhere within the sunlight room, Orbers may come across the memorial erected by members of the current crew. The memorial itself is a large stone pillar, its colouring hovering between gray and black; carved into it are names of everyone who has ever been a part of the crew — not just the current crew, but the past crew, too. On the stone slab the pillar stands on is a small plate, for wishes and letters; should one be placed on it, it will rise into the air as if someone were pulling it, stop once it reaches the name of the person it was meant for, and burst into flames, burning away — as if by disappearing, the words could cross between worlds and reach the one who should hear them.
3.0 Sometime in the middle of the month, the common living area will feature a simple wooden table holding a box and a sign. On the sign is a note hand-written by Degar that reads:
Next to the sign, in the box, are a neat stack of various quilt blocks for the taking, along with a number of art supplies. Perhaps now is the time to finally show off your handcrafting skills… Or maybe ask around to see who's willing to teach it.
4.0 So, about that Yulevibes Dinner. Inquiring more about it from either of the permanent residents of the station will reveal that it is a dinner meant for celebration and companionship. Every Orber is invited (and highly encouraged to attend, but of course that’s their prerogative), with the simple request that — if they so choose — they bring along a dish from their world. It’s not entirely a potluck, as there will be more than enough food to feed them all should none choose to participate, but the hope is to encourage Orbers to share a little more of their home with one another… perhaps with the intent to remind them that home is not so far away now.
The dinner is held on the third week after their return. The entire common living area has been transformed into a cozy winter retreat with low chairs, plenty of pillows and cushions, knitted blankets, stringed lights and flickering lanterns. Projected onto the walls are scenes of a calm winter evening, not unlike what one might find in the sunlight room. The main event, of course, is the dinner itself — there must be twenty, maybe even thirty-something dishes occupying a long table flanked by dozens of mismatched chairs. Have a seat, get cozy, fill up your plate and enjoy the vibes and company.
Afterwards, it’s time to lounge around and relax. Board games of various kinds from various worlds appear on low tables, popcorn is inexplicably encouraged to get strung up and worn (what else are you meant to do with it?), and hot cider is passed around by the mugful. Degar plays a few songs on his lute, but as the food coma starts to hit he switches instead to DJing a few songs he’d handpicked especially for the evening.
Barring any food fiascos (or drunken mishaps, you do you, Orbers), the evening is one of relative peace and comfort. Though brief, it provides a much-need reprieve from all that might plague one’s mind… Which is good, because the next morning comes with some rather concerning news.
The morning after the Yulevibes Dinner, Viveca’s voice rings sharply in everyone’s earpieces.
Her voice, having started out as calm and serious, turns even more grave.
It sounds as if she’s grimacing, thinking of what a single, free orb was able to do in Amaryllis Grove, all on its own.
She trails off, but what she leaves unsaid hangs in the air: no matter how much magic — no matter how powerful — that they pour into the barrier keeping the orbs from influencing everyone around them… it might not be enough. Whatever the team’s eventual decision is going to be, it might not be as clear-cut as they might have thought.
F Y I
• Throughout the month, remember that all the locations in the two wings and the center of the station are available to use, even if they’re not detailed in the prompts in this log. So feel free to make your own wildcard prompts using the training room, the armory, the living quarters, the kitchen, etc.
• If characters want to speak with Viveca or Degar (or both of them) regarding anything mentioned in this log, they are encouraged to do so through the reach the residents page.
• Please note that the voting post regarding what to do with the orbs will go live on December 20 in preparation for endgame.
• And finally, if you have questions about anything in this log, please direct them here.
4.0
（ he has a cigarette dangling out of his mouth, and he gestures for her knitting. give it here, he'll fix it. he's a helper. ）
no subject
[Very deadpan.
She does offer the scarf though, curious to see what he'll do.]
no subject
Oh, you could just up an' surprise me. Anything's a dildo if you're brave enough and don't mind regaling hospital staff with woeful stories of slipping and falling on ambitiously sized item of your choice.
（ but he's working as he talks, walking back a few stitches and then redoing them. he taps one with a finger as he holds the needles one-handed. ）
Missed the purl.
（ local canadian, knows knitting??? ）
no subject
[Natasha takes the knitting back, keeping her eyes on the work. At it turns out, this was not on the skill list Red Room valued in their operatives.
And hobbies hadn't exactly been encouraged.]
Jake will appreciate the assist.
[As her guide in this, as much as he's had the chance.]
Though now you have me wondering what you're putting our poor medical staff through. Marta doesn't deserve that.
no subject
（ this man has never met a stretchy talking space dog in his life, actually. ）
Oh, I'd never be that idiot who doesn't use something with a base. Or a tether. Anal play 101, man. If The Treasure You Shall Seek, Make Sure You Can Tomorrow Seat.
（ ... he wrinkles up his nose at the rhyming, and then: ）
Wow, that was terrible. Sounded better in my brain.
no subject
But the question about Jake gets a scoff so loud she almost chokes on it. A very, I'm sorry, what? sound.]
Jake is a mutant french bulldog.
[Or some kind of other mutant bulldog, but the spirit is accurate even if the specific breed is shakey.]
Definitely not my boyfriend.
cw: ... irreverent tbi shit?
（ that's punctuated with a sort of sharp exhalation that accentuates the first half of that word, making it almost more breath than word. ）
Well, I've heard weirder. Aight.
（ he leans back in his own cozy beanbag chair, because dang girl, nice digs. ）
Have we met? I have no idea. Brain damage. （ he sort of jerks a thumb back at his brain like this is just casual every-other-tuesday for him. ）
no subject
She looks like she's deciding if she believes him, or maybe if it matters.]
I don't think formally.
[Which is Natasha's polite way of saying she's aware of who he is.]
Natasha Romanoff.
no subject
Is that a priyatno poznakomit'sya Romanoff, or a 'I eat grandmama's pirojki every other Sunday' Romanoff?
（ you know, some people might find that intrusive. cy just seems like he's pleased he can show off his weirdly well accented russian. he was born to be a show dog, what can i say. ）
Cyram no-lastname. I'm like Madonna, minus the cone titties, plus the killer legs.
no subject
As an understatement.]
An ex-KGB Romanoff.
[It's still the easiest answer. Then, shrugging past that she adds:]
But I do love pirojki.
[She's not a monster.]
no subject
Shit, man, me too.
（ maybe most people would ask about the kgb thing, maybe they wouldn't. cy doesn't even blink at it.
not a soldier, not strictly. but he'd known there'd been something trying to catch at the edges of awareness the way dewdrops cling to cobwebs.
food, though, is the more pressing discussion. ）
I could go for some of that shit baked up in a pan and slathered in bacon and sour cream. We got a babushka squirreled away somewhere?
no subject
Amazing how often people around here and up talking about food. On the other hand, everyone has to eat.]
Everyone does. Either that, or they haven't had them yet.
[Because what's not to love? Everyone loves dough and filling.]
You know, I think there's a tragic shortage of babushki. We should consider getting more grannies to come bake for us.
no subject
（ look, he knows what he's about. ）
Somebody should ask that gal Viv why that wasn't ever part of the plan.
no subject
[Though she imagines there are plenty of old ladies out there with regrets.]
Though I like the idea of the Golden Girls out here instead of us.
no subject
（ yes he has absolutely binge-watched that show. no, he will not be accepting criticism at this time. ）
So what's with the knitting? Passing skills, or is this top secret KGB code breaking at work?
（ look, it was a thing. ）
no subject
[Natasha has had fairly limited time in her life for binge watching. Or any watching.]
Looking for something to do with my hands, actually. In case you haven't noticed, we have a lot of downtime around here.
no subject
（ he stretches out long legs, crosses them at the ankle. he's the picture of perfect repose, not a tense bone in his body. ）
Ever try music?
no subject
[It's a good place to look relaxed. Why would anyone be tense here?
There's only the orbs to worry about.]
Dance. And for some reason, karaoke has come up more often than I would have expected.
no subject
（ he winks at her broadly, and then pulls the cigarette out of his mouth ever-so-briefly to tap ash off the end of it, blowing the smoke away from her. he's almost polite. almost! ）
Dance, huh? Is this where I make a crass joke about flexibility and stamina, or is it disco and I can proceed to pretend I've never met you before in my life?
no subject
[She angles a wry look his way, as if daring him to say he thinks it's disco.]
no subject
（ he gives it a long moment of thought. then, with a bit of a shit-eating grin: ）
I mean, except the fact you obviously think disco's old.
no subject
[She absolutely will not.]
Assuming our worlds have the same dated slang, and disco and Snoop Dogg aren't universal.
no subject
（ just so we're clear!! ）
It was 2023 for me, if that helps.
no subject
[And time has marched on from there without her, but that would really ruin the Yule Vibes.]
So that's one thing in common.
no subject
（ yes. dead serious. lay it on him. ）
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)