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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.
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[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.
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（ 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?
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[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.
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（ 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?
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[She angles a wry look his way, as if daring him to say he thinks it's disco.]
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（ 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.
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[She absolutely will not.]
Assuming our worlds have the same dated slang, and disco and Snoop Dogg aren't universal.
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（ just so we're clear!! ）
It was 2023 for me, if that helps.
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[And time has marched on from there without her, but that would really ruin the Yule Vibes.]
So that's one thing in common.
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（ yes. dead serious. lay it on him. ）
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[Sorry, this is news to Natasha.]
I think I missed that one.
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Well, that confirms your universe for taking the big S.
（ ... it stands for 'suck'. ）
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Because we didn't get a particular album? Which already came out almost a decade ago.
[She is not serious about this, but she will comment on it.]
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（ obviously, this is a Big Deal. ）
Plus, hearing all that old music but with a more mature sound — hot.
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[Counting her stitches and then nodding slightly; she's got a good sense of repetitions at least.]
Her post Snap work has had some bangers, though.
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（ was it another macarena. please don't tell him it was another macarena phase. inexplicably, of all the shit that just lives on in his damaged brain that's one of them. ）
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[Because it's not the sort of thing you forget.]
Half the world's population disappeared because of a genocidal alien megalomaniac.
1/2
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he just sort of raises one eyebrow, and then: ）
Let me guess... hated the Teletubbies?
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[Otherwise, the motivations don't make all that much sense. With all the power Thanos had at his fingers, he could have actually helped people—if that had been what he wanted.]
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（ it's said with a casual drag off his cigarette, deepening the red of the cherry. the breath is held a second or two, and then exhaled politely away from her. ）
Not that I'm out here trying to play devil's advocate for a genocidal murderer or anything, damn.
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Just in my observation, if people are committing atrocities and then justifying it, the atrocity is a feature, not a bug.
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（ oh, they're into the weeds now, fam. ）
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（ he laughs a bit, and snuffs the remnants of his cigarette out between two fingers. ）
A little self awareness goes a long way on a genocidal asshole.
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