You have spent the last few days on Thesa Station, taking in the knowledge that your world is no more. Perhaps you've made some friends (or maybe an enemy or two). Either way, you aren't expected to spend all of your time on the Station. El Nysa needs you, after all, and you promised you'd help the planet thrive. Are you ready?
Submit an AC-eligible thread with a new character as a participant for 2 NATHA ORBITER REP POINTS HERE. You may also submit an AC-eligible thread set in either Olympia or Wyver for 2 OLYMPIA REP POINTS OR 2 WYVER REP POINTS, respectively, HERE or HERE. The two submitted threads MUST be separate threads.
You may write threads and prompts in both cities, but ICly, they should take place on different days.MAKE YOUR CHOICE
The newly awakened are given two weeks on Thesa Station to recover and learn what they can from the training simulations and their fellow refugees. Normally, they might find themselves ill-prepared and uninformed prior to their trip down. This is not the case for this arrival; thanks to the efforts of John Watson and Bruce Wayne, a new room will be available on the Station prior to landing where arrivals will be given a starter kit!
Once fully equipped, you'll be called to Hangar Station. The plan was that the new arrivals will use the transporters to arrive within their chosen cities; however, there appears to be some sort of a glitch in the system. Those on the surface cannot transport themselves up to the station... and those in the station cannot transport themselves down.
 Wow, it's really different when you're all actually moving! But, speaking of moving...
Looks like the transporters are inoperable right now. That's... well, that's my bad. But luckily for you, that's not the only way down the surface! There will be two ships available for you all to board soon.
I know many of you are antsy to get back to your people, but there's no need to rush. The ships have both been programmed to camouflage into an El Nysa airship once it breaks the atmosphere, so hopefully the locals won't think anything of it.
But, one more thing before you depart. While I've been observing all of you, I've also been keeping an eye on those on El Nysa. I have to say, it's been a while since I've seen them this wound up. I advise you all practice a little caution...
Oh! I'm rambling, aren't I? Brother will be cross with me if we don't prepare the boarding soon.
FULL SPEED AHEAD... AND TO THE GROUND. There are two large crafts set to depart from the station on the morning of the 9th. One is bound for the Outlook, for those who wish to begin their stay on the planet in Olympia; the other is bound for a deserted patch of land to the west of Wyver, for those who find the jungle city more appealing.
Seven months ago, the locals saw the shuttles descending from Thesa as a sign of blessing. Now, they only see yet another foreign object —another threat.
Fueled by increasing tensions and paranoia, both cities command that defensive countermeasures be taken, launching their own aerial attacks to fend off the aircrafts. It's chaotic, a flashpoint of fear for a few thundering hours before each city's retaliation attempt reigns successful, the tension on the ground breaking with applause and cheer. It almost seems cruel, considering just how many lives their attempts have endangered.
In the air, however, there is nothing to be relieved by. The passengers in the ships are jostled by the first blast, then outright battered by the rest of the barrage; it seems like every time the ships almost manage to right themselves, they're hit again, until finally they're sent into a dizzying, terrifying tailspin. Lights inside the craft flicker on and off before dying entirely. The strange, uncomfortable sensation of your ears popping starts, and won't stop. And then, just as it's getting hard to breathe, there's the sickening crunch of metal on metal.
Heavily damaged and forced off-course, the ships collide over the waters between the Edrathe Ruins and Murkwell Hollow. Electricity crackles over the battered vessels, and the rattled refugees are forced to race against time to avoid the spreading fires inside and the steady sinking of the the ships into the murky waters. Land to the east is too far away to swim to safely. Murkwell Hollow is close enough for you to reach, provided you're not too concussed or dizzy from the abrupt descent to be able to move on your own... although that presents its own set of problems.
I. A BRIEF REPRIEVE. Waterlogged but alive, you manage to make it to the side of Murkwell Hollow farthest from Olympia itself. The good news is that you and the others around you are far away from the people who shot you down; the bad news is that, after such a rough landing, it’s highly unlikely that everyone got out unscathed.
The journey has been arduous already, and it's barely begun. Assist your fellow refugees and snatch a moment to recover before taking stock of your surroundings. The skeletal remains of your predecessors litter the boggy terrain, some of which are disturbingly... recent. Recent enough that not all of the bones have been picked clean by scavengers, but also recent enough that some of their weapons are still scattered about, though some are half-submerged in the marsh...
Cooperate, and it should still be possible for you to survive on the backs of those who have perished. For now, try not to panic — help is on the way.
Oookay, that wasn't supposed to happen! They're really going at it down there, huh?
Well, this one wasn't my bad! I'm gonna need you new guys to try to stay put, okay? Not in the fire, but try not to go too far... I'm sending your location to the others, who should head out here and help pretty soon.
(Hint, hint, everybody!)
II. WHEN THE WORLD IS OUT TO GET YOU... It’s early afternoon by the time help arrives, and once it does, it’s time to get moving. There is rather a lot of ground to cover, and it’s common knowledge that one would not want to be stuck here at night...
It’s an unforgiving environment: one wrong step and the bog might suck you in, pulling you in deeper the more you struggle. Then there are the Mushrooms of Madness, aggravated by the force of the crash, and releasing their spores to cause paranoia and vivid hallucinations in weary travelers. The Mushrooms near the giant skull are particularly nasty, causing hallucinations featuring a rampaging dragon, whose image will leave a deep feeling of dread until you successfully escape Murkwell Hallow. And of course, if you feel as though you’re being watched, you won’t be wrong. A small, vulture-like creature stalks you like a shadow in the sky, almost like a guardian sent to watch over you... until you dare to look it in the eye, then it lets out an echoing, spine-chilling shriek, and attacks.
ABOUT THE VULTURE: The vulture-like creature is quick-moving, and favors flying high into the sky and aligning itself with the sun in order to use the glare in its favour when it dives to attack. It attacks any creature who dares meet its eye, though it will not persist in its attacks if no blood is spilt. The instant there is bloodshed however, yours or the vulture's, it will become relentless in its assault, continuing until it succeeds or is killed. Upon its death, it lets out a keening wail, and the surrounding area goes eerily silent as the sound fades away...
If your character fights and kills one of these creatures, please respond here. This action, or lack thereof, may bring about results in a later event.
STEALTH MISSION. Worse for the wear or not, you've made it out of Murkwell Hollow, so the hard part is over — in theory, anyway. In practice, your trials aren't finished quite yet.
For all their talk about how they're entirely different from one another, the people of Olympia and Wyver have very similar responses to perceived threats. Not trusting that shooting down the strange aircraft was enough to ensure that there were no survivors, both cities have guards out patrolling the areas around the walls. The gates themselves are tightly shut, and those coming and going are being closely inspected to ensure that they had nothing to do with all the chaos. In fact, linger out of sight long enough, and you might just witness someone being hauled away for further questioning, protesting and proclaiming their innocence all the way.
Older refugees will need to find a way to get the new arrivals into the cities, as the guards are not willing to let unfamiliar faces in through the gates willy-nilly in light of what's just happened. Especially persuasive characters who have clout with the guards may be able to talk their new friends in; characters skilled with disguises may be able to pass them off as someone who has been there all along. Failing that there's always more traditional methods of sneaking: scaling the walls quickly to avoid being seen, finding a weakness in the walls to literally slip right through, or even knocking out the guards if all else fails.
Good luck, and... don't get caught.
Please submit who you're sneaking in to where, and how you're sneaking them in, here, as the specifics may influence NPC attitudes in a later log.
VICTORY CELEBRATION IN WYVER
For Wyver, this month marks a time of great celebration, harkening back to an age of heroism and strength. In this “Golden Age,” Wyver defeated Mad Nithor, a great warrior of Olympia who had slain hundreds of Wyver’s men and enslaved thousands of citizens. Legend has it that in the days following his death, the victors displayed his severed head in the center of the Old City of Wyver — which is why in the second week of the month, the highlight of the holidays, it is customary for citizens to pay their respects by decorating the Old City. While the history behind the celebrations may come across as brutal, they act as a symbol of solidarity and speak volumes of Wyver’s unwavering pride as people who were born of dragons. The month will be a bright time for the city of Wyver, boasting many feasts and its people sporting the colors of their home as a proud sign of their heritage, and the atmosphere of the city will be alight with an obvious spark and spring to everyone’s step.
In addition to cheerful celebrations, bountiful feasts, and many entertaining shows, storytellers recount the tale of the day the Wyver people regained their freedom from tyranny. One in particular catches your attention.
 When Olympia got too big for its britches
Mad Nithor slew some dragons and witches
Now Wyver's ornery
And there's more to this story
So ask me anything, you sons of bitches.*
*OOC: Characters may ask either the Wyver OR Olympia Storyteller ONE question. Please direct your questions to the appropriate header below!
ARTISTIC DIFFERENCES. Wyver may be painted in a brutish light by some, but it would be more accurate to say they show no reserve in their passions. Normally, one would find that the East End is a spacious place where only Wyver's best fighters display their talents, but you'll soon see that the area is now packed with a wide variety of citizens. Stalls line the streets, but those working them are not selling anything — they're preparing works for a competition.
 You're free to enter as you see fit. However, I will remind you that what you present will be shown to Shanrian as he walks among the citizens. Whatever you produce should be fit for his eyes. It would do you best not to take this artistic display lightly.
Lest you desire to shame yourself, that is. Though, perhaps it's not a total loss. It could be utilized for... comedic purposes at the very least.
The Wyver people heavily encourage that you participate, no matter if your skills don't seem suited for competition. There are the most common submissions, such as finely crafted weapons and shows of swordsmanship, but all art forms begin making their appearance the further you venture. Citizens are carving great, looming dragons out of wood from felled trees, painting murals on the streets, and playing their instruments as others perform interpretive dances. Others are drawing inspiration from those around and writing frantically, hoping to finish their works so that they are fit for the King to read.
Though this is a competition, the rules do not state that you cannot collaborate. Refugees are encouraged to enter by any means necessary... and not doing so may shine a light on the fact you are not a Nysan native.
If your character enters this competition, please submit your entry here! Entries that have been submitted by the deadline have a chance to win and be featured on a future log.
THE ETERNAL FLAME. Wyver's Volkkran shamans have smaller altars set up around the city, and each sees its own due amount of foot traffic during these triumphant times. Pay a visit, and you’ll soon find that despite the attempts at celebration, the Altars of Volkkra aren’t the most uplifting places to be. The smaller set-ups have an inexplicable air of mystery and something dangerous about them, not made any less unsettling by the robed shamans at each one, all features hidden except for their hands. The main Altar is no exception; labyrinthine and dark throughout, this place is lit by large pyres set up at various points in its maze-like corridors. Each of the smaller altars sports a similar pyre, watched over by shamans who only gesture in silence to the flames when you approach.
They have an expectation of you, although they will not speak it. Looking into the flames seems to give you the hint, as if the pyre itself is calling out to you: fuel the flame. By any means necessary.
The Wyver citizens are either used to the foreboding air of the pyres or do not notice it at all; they themselves are cheerfully tossing in strips of parchment and moving along. Many of them will chatter if asked about the legend of the Eternal Flame: desires, they say, written on the special parchment provided and thrown into the flame, will keep it strong. The stronger the flame, they say, the more likely it is that your desire will become reality!
Of course, there are superstitious passerby as well, who claim the flames bring nothing but strife no matter how many old Wyver kings and queens are said to have used their power in the past. But it’s hard to tell if that’s all talk, when you look into the allure of the flame…
In the “main” Altar of Volkkra, those winding, seemingly never-ending corridors, it’s easy to get lost. You’ll be provided with a small flame of your own to carry, that will not burn your skin but can easily be blown out, in order to light your way. These flames seem to draw you somewhere—is it deeper into the maze, or back out to one of those pyres?
In your wandering through these halls, you might stumble across something you aren’t meant to see. Strange rumors of mystic experiments being carried out deep in the Altar must have reached your ears by now, and despite the festive feeling Wyver is trying to achieve, something about being in the Altar feels… oppressive. Do you remember what it felt like to stare into the pyre, which seemed to beckon to you? Here in the Altar’s maze, that oppressive allure seems to be coming from all sides.
There is no shaman to help you here. Work together, and perhaps you will not join the distant murmur of voices always just beyond the light of your flame.
PARTY FOULS. The festival has arrived with a sense of urgency; the perceived-Olympian attack from days previous still fresh on their minds, Wyver has responded with a swell of pride and determination. They will not be denied this sacred holiday, and while some are content to enjoy the festivities, some citizens can't shake the outrage. It simmers, until with the help of free flowing alcohol, a select few decide that their crazy plans don't appear to be so crazy anymore.
They find you, their judgement questionable but their determination unstoppable, and there's just something about you — maybe you dare to wear the Olympian colours, or maybe you're trying to avoid the festitives — that they don't like, so they take your clothes and your valuables to sacrifice to the pyres burning around the city, and if you protest, then they have no qualms with offering your flesh and blood, too. Or maybe it's someone else they've got, putting up a losing fight as they inch closer to the flames. Regardless, it's obvious that there's a bone to pick tonight, and they won't stop until they're satisfied.
FESTIVE SPIRIT. If you're looking to escape all the fire and chaos or replace any items of yours that might have been burned, then you'll want to hit up the markets: A more lascivious offshoot of the competitive body painting, there are stalls offering paints and private rooms for less... professional body painting efforts. These paints, they'll be sure to point out with a little suggestive smirking, are edible. Most of them taste a little like vanilla, but they're available for the taking, and the scent of them might just encourage you to be more free with your body than you ordinarily would.
Speaking of those feasts, it's common for the desserts served during this time to be laced with ingredients that cause... certain effects. In particular, one traditional cake, shaped in the form of a knot and layered with fruit, may inspire a craving for intimacy in anyone who eats a slice, though that intimacy isn't necessarily sexual. A hug, a hand to hold, a cuddle... or more. There does appear to be more public displays of affection than usual around here, isn't there?
Another item, a kind of dessert cocktail (alcoholic and non- available!) drizzled in dark chocolate, is a little more straightforward: it stokes one's desire. You may want to watch out for that one; the Wyvern natives may not think to warn others of their desserts' contents, since it's such a prevalent part of the celebration, although small placards on the dessert tables will make it more clear.
This lesson may be one you learn the hard way if you're not looking closely: be careful what you eat. (Please warn threads appropriately.)
While you're here, have you considered pledging your allegiance to a special someone via forming a Volkkran Pact?
In Olympia, this month’s mood is once again somber and subdued. It is a time of remembrance and mourning, with tribute paid to the Temples not only in memory of Olympia’s fallen, but in the name of Nithor the Exalted, a great warrior of ages past who led the city to many victories against Wyver and was even able to fell a legendary dragon.
Though this is a solemn holiday, Olympians are mindful of its more upbeat aspects, looking ahead to the future and viewing it as a celebration of how far Olympia has come from its uncivilized past. Many opt to wear white and gold, Olympia’s traditional colors, as signs of pride and remembrance. However, beneath the melancholic forefront lurks a festering anger and bitterness; there are many in Olympia who despise this holiday and view the manner in which Wyver celebrates it as a slap to the face. Words of this discontent start off only as whispers, but with the current tensions, there's bound to be trouble.
From across the Market District, a strange woman catches your eye. She approaches, and it is as if she can sense your desire for further knowledge.
 Nithor the Exalted was a man of great kindness,
wisdom, and strength. His memory is dear in the hearts of the Olympian people, and with good reason. He wished to unite all of El Nysa into one peaceful land, to make it a world without cultural boundaries, prejudice, or man-made borders.
Is there something you wish to know, friend?*
*OOC: Characters may ask either the Wyver OR Olympia Storyteller ONE question. Please direct your questions to the appropriate header below!
DRAMATIC RE-TELLING. Olympia's Entertainment District has always hosted a wide variety of playwrights, varying from amateur productions to Shakespearean quality performances. However, in preparation for the festival, the streets have been cleared of their usual fanfare and replaced with a more traditional, but excited atmosphere. Posters line the wall of nearly every business you step through, every corner, every alley — it is impossible to miss the nightly showing of the Life and Death of Nithor the Exalted.
Rather than the usual expensive fee that only Olympia's elite can afford, admission is but a few silver. It isn't long before the audience overflows from the seats, and some have even dressed up for the occasion. With accusations being thrown about and opinions divided wherever else in the city you go, the display of camaraderie seems to be a refreshing change. But when the curtain rises and the show of heroism begins, you soon notice that members of the audience have begun to disappear from around you, and the actors have changed. It isn't long before a divide between them and yourself is apparent; the natives know the lines of the play by heart, and you have not a clue.
 Hey there, hot stuff! You look like you're perfect for the stage, let's get you up for the next scene. There's nothing to be afraid of, but uh... watch it with the swords, will you?
Before you know it, it's too late — you've been whisked away backstage, and you're all but forced into an extravagant but rather worn costume. A loose script has been pushed into your hands, words smudged and the pages torn out, and you've hardly have any time to skim it before you find yourself shoved out onto the stage. Will you be forced into the two-man suit of the mighty dragon Nithor slew in Murkwell Hollow? Charred and blood covered garments for a village victim of the beast, dying in his arms? The sleek gown of a tavern wench, attempting to seduce our hero into a night of passion? Or maybe they haven't seen talent in you at all, and you've been told you will make the most wonderful tree.
Perhaps your fellow refugees have been dragged on with you, and must play the opposing role. Or perhaps they are safe in the audience, where they can watch you fumble, or make an attempt to save you from your lack of dramatic talent. No matter the case, one thing is clear: your cover as a Nysan native is at stake, and the show must go on.
If you go off-script, please submit your thread here as it may influence NPC reactions in a later log. Thank you!
GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN. This day may be in commemoration for the loss of a great hero, but he isn't the only one that Olympians wish to honor. Today is also a day for honoring all of those that have passed on. Gravestones in various cemeteries are decorated with beautiful flowers. For those who do not have a physical place of rest in Olympia,
a lantern is lit and placed lovingly on the palace garden grounds, creating a beautiful display of light. Perhaps you would like to honor a friend or family member that has not or may not be able to join you in El Nysa.
At the end of the night, it is customary to honor these people by enjoying their favorite drink at a local tavern. In preparation for this evening, the bars are particularly well-stocked.
DARK TURNS. Some people honor history more than they learn from it. With the whispers of the Wyver "attack" bringing unease to the city of Olympia, some citizens look to their past with a more calculating eye. That those "Wyver savages" would not only rob Olympia of a hero in the first place, but then dare to dishonor his legacy with an attack only fuels their outrage. Their pride triumphs over their minds, and they yearn for revenge rather than remembrance — action over acceptance.
The people take to the streets, demanding respect as they hassle whoever they've deemed an outsider. It's all "playful" of course, a gentle push and a coy shove that can bring a person to their knees. Ordinary citizens pretending to be Olympian officials, putting their boots in the faces of refugees and demanding that they lick them in a show of respect, among other things. If your eye were to catch that of a guard's patrolling, you'll find that they stare back with condescension rather than concern. And if you were to consider fighting back, then the guard might be compelled to step in; in short, don't expect the authorities to be on your side. The Royal Guard has no bias, but the Olympian natives have already suffered so greatly this evening — why not allow them a little fun?
FLONA COVE HEALING. During this holiday, it is also traditional for the people of Olympia to make a short pilgrimage to the lesser-known lagoons scattered throughout Flona Cove. If you're looking to blend in and escape the notice of the natives who are acting out against the refugees, perhaps you'll want to join them. There, they drink the water, said to be imbued with the strength and power of the dragons who have long lived and subsisted off of them — legend has it that Nithor drank from these waters himself before many of his great victories. It's customary to take only a single sip, though some Olympians will simply swish the water around in their mouths before spitting it back out — the water's effect is far too potent for them, they say.
Wait, what effect? The Olympians already know this: drinking the water will heighten people's baser instincts and weaken their self-restraint, leaving them more prone to combativeness and impulsiveness. Has something — or someone — been bothering you lately? Perhaps now is the perfect time to confront it.
Others still may find their desires — their physical desires — intensified. Perhaps now is the perfect time to confront that as well. (Please warn threads appropriately.)
Elsewhere in the city, in an act of what any good Wyver citizen would call a horrible bastardization of customs and any upstanding Olympian would call not even close to that—Olympia has its own variety of edible body paints. They're all markedly more pastel and Olympian-colored (white and golds feature strongly), and in the absence of competition, it's clear that these edible paints have been adopted for one specific purpose. The fact that they're being distributed in the Red Light District makes it obvious, as do the charming labels suggesting you indulge your desires artistically stuck on the lids of the little paint pots. Enjoy!
An AC-eligible thread with a new character as a participant for 2 NATHA REP POINTS may be submitted from this log. SUBMIT THE THREAD HERE BY MARCH 2nd 11:59 PM EST.
Additionally, an AC-eligible thread for 2 REP POINTS FOR EITHER OLYMPIA OR WYVER or may be submitted from this log. You cannot submit the same thread for both Natha and Olympia/Wyver REP. SUBMIT THE THREAD FOR OLYMPIA OR WYVER HERE AND HERE RESPECTIVELY BY MARCH 2nd 11:59 PM EST.
We will no longer be providing overflow posts. In an event where the post hits CAPTCHA, players are advised to move threads to an overflow post on their character journals or create their own catch-all post. These threads remain eligible for AC, AC Rewards, and REP.
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also v, mostly. I'm sorry.
Whoever Ann is silently trying to implore for help in the bustling backstage—some harried-looking stagehand, from the look of it—the woman is too busy stowing (what she thought had been) an odd, discarded prop weapon along with the heap of the rest to care. (One of these swords is not like the others. But she's too busy to wonder about it, right now.) She waves Ann off with a "curtains in five" warning and hustles away almost immediately. Things to do, people to rope into roles. You know how it is. Luckily(?) she's not...totally alone in this. Technically. And getting picked up for use in the pageant definitely isn't his idea of a good time—body or no body. Except he's supposed to keep a low profile around the locals, so he'd bitten his tongue for a while. But this is getting pretty dire. Enough to take a gamble on some pour soul who looks about as out of place as he does. (Or, y'know. Almost. At least he doesn't have to put up with the frills, like this.) Quickly, while everyone else has wandered out of earshot to prepare for curtain call—]
Hey!
[The voice Ann hears is a little hushed, a little distorted. Maybe there's a flash of light over by the props to go with it.]
Over here.
[Help... Might take her a second to pinpoint where the sound is coming from. Helps that he keeps talking so she can track it. And that light just keeps flickering in time with the words.]
You don't look like you really want to be here. Well, neither do I. Could use a little help, though.
[Lets bust out of this joint, bud.]
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This is insulting. ]
What the hell!
[ That's when she finally hears—someone calling for her? She turns to look around, trying to pinpoint the voice, but... no one's here. Actually, it sounds like it's coming from... she moves to stand closer to the sword, her expression incredulous. ]
Um... are you... talking to me? [ What the fuck. She starts to inspect the sword a little more, leaning down to give it a closer look. ] Is this some kind of speaker or something?
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Something like that. [He's...speaking. He's a speaker. No time to explain, Ann, roll with it. As she ducks down for a look—] Hi. Guessing you're not from around here, either.
[A brilliant deduction borne from her deer-in-the-headlights look, up there. Help him help you, Ann.]
no subject
Either way, she just figures that there's someone on the other side of this sword thing that's making conversation. Little does she know how right she is. ]
Um, well... [ She hesitates for a second, because this feels like a trick question, and isn't she supposed to pretend to be a refugee? But her natural stupidity—I mean, honesty—kicks in, and so she adds with a sigh: ] Yeah. Is it that obvious?
[ It sure is. But she's a kind girl at heart, and so her next question is: ] Uh, what exactly do you need help with?
no subject
Anyway, don't worry, Ann, he's not gonna rat you out. Hell, he's taking the same risk by flagging her down instead of clamming up for the locals. He's feeling pretty confident about it, though. And she doesn't let him down.
As if in explanation—]
Looked a little lost.
[To put it gently. Anyway, since she's a good sport and all—]
How d'you feel about getting out of here before we wind up on stage?
[Don't know about you, Ann, but he's not such a fan of being in the spotlight. That's all Red's territory.]
Think I know the way, but— [Well.] If you don't mind doing the walking, I'd appreciate the lift.
no subject
Either way, smart sword or not, she's pretty much smelling everything that this guy(?) is stepping in—metaphorically speaking. She doesn't particularly want to stick around and play a part in this (gross!) narrative, so why not ditch it? This sword is down to go with her—or the, uh, person behind the sword...? Wait. ]
You... would?
[ Something's fishy here. Now she tries to inspect the Transistor a little more closely, tapping her finger against the large red circle in the middle.
Suddenly, a stagehand calls out something about the next act starting soon—wait, she's in the next act, right? ]
no subject
...or not. Evenly and without missing a beat, as Ann stoops to partake in the increasingly-familiar introductory tapping against the Transistor's surface—]
If you can. Shouldn't be far.
[He didn't misunderstand her, but he keeps his tone conversational and the topic moving on purpose. There's an apologetic note in it, at least. But hopefully they shouldn't be on the move for long.
—Especially since they're soon interrupted by the all hands order for the next act. His voice picks up a little more urgency.]
Now or never.
no subject
First she grabs the Transistor by the hilt, pulling it away from the wall— ]
Oof! Geez! [ It's a lot heavier than she expected?? Its weight almost throws her off balance, and it takes her a second to adjust her grip enough to keep from dropping it. ] This thing is—pretty heavy—ugh.
[ There's no way she's going to be able to lift it, so dragging it is. With some effort, she starts unceremoniously hauling the Transistor with her, the scrape of the sword against the floor pretty unflinchingly loud. At least the noise backstage mostly covers it up—still, she keeps looking around with a slight air of paranoia, as if someone is going to stop her... for some reason?
She eventually finds a back entrance and tows the sword out there—they end up in a little alleyway, cast in shadow behind the makeshift stage and thankfully devoid of people. ]
no subject
Yeah, should have warned you. Might be rough on your shoulders. ...and your toes.
[Careful where you go dragging it. But he clams up there, to give her the space to maneuver without wasting the breath to talk or drawing too much attention their way. Occasionally interjects when she's coming across a turn they need to take, or when they need to duck out of sight. (Logically, they can't force Ann into performing in the play. But they might take issue with her walking off with the "props." ...and the costuming, for that matter. Whoops.)
After all that, the relative emptiness of the alley is a relief. That's better. Figuring it out from here is a little less daunting. He exhales...somehow. There's a sound of it, at least. Audible over the muffled noise of the second act starting in the distance.]
Missing your debut. [What a shame.] Think they'll notice?
no subject
I'm sure it'll be fine—
[ She speaks a little too soon, because she's immediately interrupted by a stagehand throwing open the door she just came out of and zeros in on her—still in costume, holding one of the "props." Hey, wait a minute—where does she think she's going? With the sword?? ]
Uh, nowhere! I just, uh... needed a break? [ About that bad acting—case in point. ] This thing, um...
[ She's running out of excuses here... does her new sword friend want to help out at all? ]
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The thing is, the temperamental new function that lets him back on his feet now and then is handy, but a little hard to predict. Prone to unexpectedly overloading and taking its time with cooling down unpredictable and plot-convenient ways. He couldn't risk trying it in a busy backlot. But now—
Worth a shot. The Transistor flickers, once. (Maybe a little suspect, but there's nothing to be done about that.) Luck on their side, he manages to render in around the nearby corner of the alley, when he finally gets his two feet back under him again. (or as close as he gets, these days.)
...Which he promptly puts to use. Turns the corner to interrupt before Ann has to make any more excuses.]
Hi. Sorry, I'm late.
[Really. (If he could have pulled this stupid stunt a few minutes ago, maybe he could have saved her some trouble.) If he looks unfamiliar, its because he is. But while his voice ought to sound the barest bit different—sans the odd modulation it gains coming out through the Transistor—if Ann's paying attention, she ought to recognize it fast.
He puts himself between her and the stagehand and gives her a deliberate look. Reaches to relieve her of the Transistor, if she'll let him. And says, deliberately pitched to carry—]
Thanks for hanging onto that for me. Hate to lose track of it in all this.
[And here, the stagehand hesitates—surely she'd seen that weird thing inside. ...but it's not like the script calls for something like that, does it?]
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[ Wait, where did this guy come from?! Ann looks just as surprised by the interruption was the stagehand does, her head swiveling towards the corner Boxer turned, her eyes as wide as saucers. Wait a minute... his voice... it takes her a second to catch on, but... ]
Uh...
[ She easily gives up the Transistor, if only because she's still a little flummoxed—and also, it's heavy as heck. Her arms were starting to get tired. Finally— ]
Oh—yeah! I was just... giving that back! To him. Since... he lost it.
[ She laughs awkwardly, tugging on one of her pigtails. When the stagehand doesn't move, looking very skeptical, she adds quickly: ]
Okay gotta go bye!
[ And then she speedwalks away, tugging on Boxer's sleeve if he doesn't immediately follow. ]
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Quick thinking, back there.
[Or...quick enough. He pauses—after a moment's consideration—to shrug his way out of his jacket and offer it over to her. In case she wants something to cover the ridiculous love-interest-barmaid getup she'd just stolen from the playhouse. (It's about as solid as the rest of him, for now. However all that works. Bit of a temporary solution, though.) A little wry, but also a little regretful—]
...Sorry about your clothes.
[Maybe they can get them back once the performance wraps up and they're done dockpressing people into being extras. (Maybe. Prospects a little bleak, though.)]
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[ She almost doesn't take him up on the jacket, but—yeah, she'd much rather cover up this ridiculous outfit, especially since it's technically stolen. His jacket is comically large on her, but she pushes up the sleeves and wraps the front around her middle, covering up most of the costume. ]
Ugh, don't worry about it. Maybe I can go back and get it later...
[ After the play is over. Her Shujin uniform is whatever, but she would be pretty bummed if she lost her hoodie. She'll just have to stage an infiltration... ]
Hey, I'm Ann, by the way. Thanks for the help.
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Boxer. [By way of introduction. She's at least earned better than a dodge for her efforts.] Yeah, likewise. Least I could do, after all that trouble.
[Considering she'd gotten herself caught sneaking him out in the first place. He could explain all that nonsense...but he's just as soon to let it go if she doesn't ask. She'll find out soon enough anyway, since they end up sharing apartment space.]