❪ introlog: #6 ❫ city of secrets

[natha]

You've spent the last few days on Thesa Station, taking in the knowledge that your world is no more. Now, the time to put all your survival training into practice has arrived: El Nysa needs you, and you're here to help the planet thrive. Are you ready? THE DESCENT     All refugees on the station are called to the hangar, where a large-scale teleporter awaits. Simply step onto the space between the arrays and wait; everyone will be sent down to the planet together. Before they depart, all refugees will be given a cold weather survival kit with warm clothing, rations, and bedding. The arrays build into a brilliant wash of light, creating a column that travels all the way from Thesa Station to the surface of El Nysa, teleporting the refugees to the planet on an aurora. Once on the planet's surface, refugees receive one last message from Darma. It has been a long, perilous year for you, refugees. And yet we must ask you to brave further peril. Within Nadril are the secrets to how poor Ysverai's revival was hidden from our sight and how this disaster has come to our star. Find the first refugee from beyond this planet, a man named Magda. He will not speak to us, for much has come between us, but to you… If you prove yourselves, he may be willing to answer your questions. We beseech you, for there is a veil over Nadril that hides all within from us. There may yet be more untold dangers waiting to befall this planet. For the good of all who make this world home, we ask you to lend us your aid. There is yet one more favor we would ask of you. In warding off the Storm's encroachment, the physical aspect of ourselves that you call Thesa Station was damaged. We must remain to continue repairs to El Nysa and to deal with Ysverai, but there should be suitable technology within Nadril that could be used for spare parts. If you have the chance to find it and can return it to us, it would hasten— Darma's message crackles with static, another image overlaying hers — her broadcast is cut off and replaced with another. A more sullen and alien voice takes Darma’s place, overlapping on itself in an ominous reveal. It has been a long, perilous year for you, refugees. And yet you’ve only just arrived here. To say I’m not disappointed in your… generation would be to lie, and I am nothing if not an honest creature. But I suppose these have been unusual circumstances. You must ask yourself this — are you only here as Darma's lapdogs? I can assure you, it's not worth being on the Natha's leash. With time, that will be something you'll have to learn for yourself. If you're so determined to come find Nadril, then follow the path north, and you'll find the border. What awaits you is revelation, if you're up to the challenge. A FROZEN LAND     The refugees land on a literally frozen world, both in temperature and time. Curls of icy wind hold swirls of snow aloft and an uncanny silence is broken only by the crunch of hoarfrost underfoot. Only Darma's protection allows the refugees to move through this frozen world — and movement is very necessary. Bitter cold sneaks through even the thickest clothing and without warning, a snowstorm rises: unnaturally quickly, a wall of white howls directly in the refugee's path. Bizarrely, the way back is perfectly calm; it's obvious that this storm is no product of nature. Magda's challenge becomes clear: the only way to Nadril lies through this storm. Visibility within the storm is near zero, the whiteout hiding any landmarks from view and making navigation near impossible. The only guidance refugees have is a sporadic path of faint, greenish lights, easily lost in the raging storm. Refugees need all the survival skills they practiced on Thesa Station to survive, for getting lost alone is a death sentence. Luckily, those separated from the group can happen upon guiding lights Magda has planted throughout the tundra. These blue-white sparks cause frostbite if handled recklessly, but they also serve as directional anchors, turning into ghostly flames that lead lost souls back to the path to Nadril. The trek through the storm will be no mean feat and will last for the better part of three days. By the time the refugees reach Nadril's gate, most will find themselves exhausted and running on fumes. As the snowstorm dies away and a gap in the glittering forcefield around the city opens to usher the refugees inside, it's clear that Nadril is a different beast. A WARM(?) WELCOME     I. Despite the unforgiving journey, entering Nadril is painless. Once inside, characters will be greeted by their predecessors: the original refugees who made this advanced city. They'll immediately be offered medical attention, as well as warm cider and blankets. But it's obvious that the Nadril citizens prefer higher tech to fend off the weather: they also offer wristlets and ear cuffs that that double as mittens and earmuffs by creating warm bubbles of air. The earrings also feature a few quality of life programs, such as timed alarms and thought-to-speech messaging. However, both programs are in beta stages so it's not unusual for a stray thought to accidentally slip through or an alarm to accidentally ring at an inopportune time. II. Refugees are offered free lodging in a large, crystalline building crafted from ice. Despite the coarse building material, the ice is unmelting and surprisingly well-insulated, and the beds are as warm and cozy. The rooms are, however, small. The sleeping quarters house two people, and are some cross between an igloo and a capsule hotel. Though built for efficiency over comfort, all rooms are also outfitted with the latest Nadril AI, RoboAlfred, or Ralf for short. This helpful program is installed in practically all the furnishings: the closet tells guests to bundle up, the bathroom sink reminds them to brush their teeth, and the mirror offers helpful fashion tips. Ralf's personality matrix still needs polish, though: it may very well insult your clothes and passively-aggressively question your lifestyle choices for the entire stay. III. Though not as advanced as Thesa Station, the colony has technology far beyond the rest of the continent, such as rudimentary AIs and mechanical transportation. Nadril's skyline is a point of pride — refugees can take a (literal) lightrail that gives an aerial view of the colony, which is hewn almost entirely from ice and rock. Despite its tech, Nadril is much more sparsely populated than Olympia and Wyver, and its residents stay near a central hub: a Natha refugee drop ship, Central, which has crashed and long embedded itself into the earth. Central is similar to an older, smaller, grounded model of Thesa Station, in functional order with round-the-clock solar power. Within Central are lounges similar to ones on the Station, though many of the damaged areas have been converted. They include repair stations, different wings dedicated to science, botany, astrology, and mechanics, and a research and history facility, which has a smattering of technology from planets beyond El Nysa — including your own. The staff here don't mind if anything is sampled and studied, but objects cannot be taken from the labs. IV. On the outskirts of the central hub, many will find several curious looking bots with insect-like wings perched about high traffic walkways. Simply passing the bots will cause a dizzying flash before a series of photos print out. Upon closer inspection, people will find that these images reflect stills taken from their home worlds as they remember it. Unfortunately, these photos only last a couple of hours at best. At that time, they will revert back to regular pictures of the refugees. People will be encouraged to share these images of their worlds. The residents of Nadril comprehend the value of remembering one's origins, and will be pleased to see that people still hold memories of old homes close to them. RECREATION IN NADRIL     I. Small, mechanical creatures scampering through the city are a common sight. Ask anyone, and they’ll tell you that they come from a shop called Paws About Town. They’re very useful, as companions, gophers, and couriers (though the more mischievous will note that they’re just small enough to keep tabs on people without being noticed). Premade robotic pets are available on display inside the shop. They come in all shapes, but small sizes; one may be able to find robots that even look like miniature creatures from their homeworld. These are a part of a new, highly customizable line with programmable personalities. Customers have the chance to take pets for a one-day trial run. Those who don’t know how to program may want to enlist more knowledgeable aid, but the pets come with instructional pamphlets for basic personality traits such as obedience, helpfulness, playfulness, and bloodthirst. For returns, the switch to wipe the robot's personality to a blank slate is on the back of its neck, right between a switch to invert all traits, and a switch to have them learn by observing. Try not to press the wrong switch — you might wind up with a pet with a mind of its own! II. A. The Frosty Tap Cantina is a thriving hub of activity, but one of the major draws is the self-service bar: molecular mixology is wildly popular here. Playing with drink compositions can be a game in and of itself, and newcomers to the cantina will find that the bartender — a cheerful woman with lilac skin and three eyes — is always happy to give them a few tips on how to use the wide array of tools within reach of the barstools. All manner of drinks are possible — from glowing, layered cocktails, to clear drinks with colored, spherical bubbles and vividly-colored shots that give off their own smoke. There's a nightly contest in the cantina for the most creative drink created by a team — this may be as good a time as any to partner up with someone and see what can you come up with. Winner gets all their drinks for the night free! And, hey, even if you don't win, you get to drink whatever you make. The well-lubricated patrons of the bar are eager to challenge anyone nearby to a different sort of drinking game… Just how well can you hold your liquor? B. Holo-screens in the cantina are nearly always broadcasting some match or another of a game that looks very much like hockey, albeit played with sticks that light up and a puck that changes shape from time to time. Colonists here merely refer to the game as "the sport," and one of their favored pastimes is betting. However, they don't use currency — they wager dares. Nadril colonists are a tough, weathered lot, and they prefer to speak with actions over silver. Colonists will urge the refugees to take part as well. Common dares range from the ridiculous (lead a sing-a-long, attempt to make someone with a poker face smile) to the suggestive (kiss the person in the cantina you find most attractive, strip off a piece of clothing), to the outright reckless (venture out into the snow for a certain amount of time, and no one will judge if you find some company to keep warm). The colonists are unfazed by even the most insane or tawdry of dares — but you'll certainly be called a killjoy for refusing too often! Why not grab a friend and give it a whirl, or challenge a rival to a dare yourself? THE MISSION     I. On the outskirts of Nadril is the communications tower of the old refugees. This is where Magda resides, monitoring Nadril's technological protections, the extent of the Natha’s influence, and running his own personal projects for El Nysa’s technological advancement. It is isolated, filled with research labs and relics of the past refugees who have come to El Nysa — a living mausoleum of worlds swallowed up by the Storm whose peoples have refused to forget where they came from. Crew photos line the walls of the tower: pictures of alien families and friends, the refugees who came to Nadril before you. Each group of photos gradually becomes smaller in number, and the most recent of the pictures are from half a century ago. Magda's picture can be found among the first group of refugees, an unusually small cluster of photos dating back centuries in El Nysa's past. I have been on this planet for nearly two centuries. Life has come, evolved, and collided in an ever expanding culture. But Darma fears interference, and made this place a prison, with she our warden, stifling the growth of the creatures native to this world rather than encouraging them to flourish. She sent you here for answers in her stead because she knows I'll spurn her, and after seeing what that fool Raysc has wrought, I'll give you them — not for Darma's sake, but because I trust after all the Natha have done to you, you'll understand my decision. Mistakes were made, and I won't hide them. You've made it here so there's some mettle to you, and unlike the Orbiters, I'm not interested in hiding the secrets of the dangers we face. I gave Raysc what he needed to keep his actions hidden from Darma's eyes — what he needed to advance the primitive magics the Natha had doomed him to. It was old Natha tech, Darma's very own used against her. Hilarious, isn't it? Raysc learned of Nadril, and like you, braved the snow to find his way here. He proved his worth and his determination, and he spoke of a brighter future, El Nysa coming into its own, its people realizing their true potential, unhindered by the shackles that had been put upon them. I believed him. He had vision — or so I thought. In truth, he was a fool. A madman. He wasted the opportunity I gave him on his petty vengeance. But not everyone on this planet is such an idiot. Surely you lot aren't. The Natha are hiding things from us — about the Storm, about everything. And here in Nadril, we're going to find all those secrets. What's it going to be? Will you help us, or are you going to stay obedient dogs on Darma's leash? Magda isn't too talkative yet; after all, the new flock of refugees may just be here as eyes and ears for the Orbiters. But what he has said leaves you with plenty to talk about, and if you can earn his trust by helping out around Nadril, he doubtless has a great deal more to reveal. II. Central isn't the only Natha ship that made its way to El Nysa — another, crashed just outside Nadril's borders, is little more than a junk heap. It's here that you'll find the spare parts Darma asked you to retrieve for Thesa Station. What remains of the ship's hull serves as a windbreak, and snow has built up against it, turning the piles of old Natha tech inside into something of a snowy morass. Holes in the deck offer would-be scavengers passage to the ship's innards, barely illuminated with flickering lights — the tech is old, but hardy enough to withstand a crash landing, the severe weather, and the passage of centuries. Deep in the wreck are the remains of living quarters, research labs, VR arenas, mecha bays, cafeterias, and a host of other rooms, many of which may seem familiar from Thesa Station, albeit with a decidedly older feel to what remains of the smooth curves and sleek surfaces of the Natha architecture. Most of the ship's systems are damaged and the technology is nonfunctional, but that just means there's plenty of spare parts to be found. The wreck isn't in the best shape, its structural integrity damaged, and the drifting snow threatens to block off exit routes. Be careful while exploring and be sure to bring a partner. As it turns out, Darma isn't the only one interested in the wreck — Magda is also eager to get his hands on Natha technology. In his own way of taking some responsibility for Raysc, he's asking scavengers to bring him parts, muttering about seeing what he can do about Ysverai's curse. Bring him anything that looks useful, and he may have a chance to succeed, though whether he'll be more effective than the Natha Orbiters is up for debate... FINAL OOC NOTES     An AC-eligible thread with a new character as a participant for 2 NADRIL REP POINTS may be submitted from this log. SUBMIT THE THREAD HERE BY AUGUST 5TH, 11:59 PM EST. As always, feel free to create your own prompts and explore the Nadril location page! There are a variety of activities made available, including fishing and cave exploration! Please direct questions to the questions thread below! Thank you! QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● lore ● map ● npcs taken ● atp/emp ● application ● rep/acp calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

Comments

I DIDN'T BUY THE DECK TAL USES FOR MOLLY FOR NOTHING!! /thumbs up

[mollymocked]

I pronounce it Tealeaf, but that's a common mistake. [Molly grins, all bared teeth and wide grins that are exactly what you'd expect from an anticharismatic carnie.] Mollymauk Tealeaf. And life wouldn't be nearly as delightful if I knew the answers to every question before I asked it, now would it?

[He cuts the deck, rotates some of the cards, and then shuffles again.]

[diamondize]

Yes! I thought it was going to just take a picture of me, but these came out instead!

[GET IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA, YUSEI.]

So maybe it'll show different pictures of you too!

[meinwaifu]

Oh dear me, what a tragedy! If only there was someone around who was kind enough to share some of their body heat with you! You poor thing.

[Mipha plz. What is he even good for if she can't ask to cuddle up inside his coat with him??]

Henry | Fire Emblem

[morbide]

a frozen land

(A) [If there was anything Henry learned from the simulations, it was that being prepared keeps him from being a huge problem for others. Given no choice but to march northbound toward Nadril's civilization, Henry dressed the part and made sure to bring along a few newly fashioned tricks; supplied with some sparse materials from the ship, those rations would go further in his hands than most's. Being prepared for himself is one thing, but being prepared to help another person out is another.

It's evening. Or perhaps it's not, but the blizzard is blinding enough to make it impossible to tell. The greenish light is dim and it's been who-knows-how-long since one of the bluish sparks showed itself. The roaring wind and biting cold feels like it's worsening with each step, and it's enough to get to a person. It's desolate, but succumbing to the cold would be the worst idea at a time like this...

Maybe it's not a good time to be sneaking up on somebody, but the only thing to give Henry's presence away is the sound of his billowing cape and the sound of two crunching footsteps in the snow immediately behind.]

Uh-oh. Looks like somebody's strayed from the path pretty good. [He laughs.] It's not easy paying attention to those lights when you're already blinded, huh? ...Well? Need any help? Or are you eagerly waiting for your skin to start changing colors as you freeze over? I can respect that and all, but I just thought I'd ask if you were trying to die out here, cold and alone.

recreation in nadril

I. paws about town
(B) [Robots and AIs are totally foreign to Henry, but he's all for it if they're in the shape of an animal. Seated outside in Nadril and comfortably warm in the jewelry pieces offered by the colonists, Henry allows a small mechanical crow to perch on his hand. The instructions are clearly unheeded, sitting at Henry's side untouched, but learn by observing seems like a good choice! Obviously!

So far, the crow's just laughing. Henry laughs. The crow laughs back, imitating its temporary master. It's Henry's loud, grating laughter in stereo, and Henry's tickled, but passersby will be able to hear the giggling duo over great distances. Only once somebody comes close enough does he stop, and finally avert his attention from the laughing bird-machine with an easy smile.]

Oh, hey! [He thrusts forward his hand; the mechanical crow flaps its wings to steady itself.] This is Raymond. He's a real CAW-nversationalist – say hi, Raymond!

["Raymond" lifts off from Henry's hand and, instead of saying hi, it... swoops down to attack the unwelcome invader. Henry jumps in surprise, but just laughs it off and waves a hand.]

Oh, but take CAW-tion: apparently he has a pretty high "bloodthirst setting"? Pfft. But what do I know? I don't know a thing about these mechanical technologies.

II. the frosty tap cantina
(C) [Some of this glowing liquid... some of that crystal-clear stuff... and some of the sparkling purple liquor... and Henry's got himself a drink custom-tailored to his liking! He's not a highly competitive sort, but hey, it's something to do.

Henry eagerly bounds up to the next person who even spares him a glance. He thrusts a drink forward with a bright smile.]

Want this? I made it myself, with all the best-looking stuff here. So it has to be a winner! But I need an outside opinion, so tell me if it's any good, 'kay?

[Go ahead, look down at what he's offering. It's a viscous blackened mess, the most terrifying drink a person could possibly concoct. It could probably kill a person, with how suspicious it looks. How did he make this?! It bubbles, smokes, sparks, and appears almost sludge-like... but emanating from it is the faint smell of roses? Or is that the overwhelming stench of nighttime cough medicine? Somehow its smell is indecipherable, but it smells either nice or terrible depending on the nose, nothing in-between.]

Go on. I'm dying to know!

(D) Hurray, another victory for me! And thank the unholy for that.

[A horde of colonists cheer and hiss, and the loser smashes her fists against the table, her face a drunken flush. But she follows through and brandishes a knife before slicing off her long ponytail. Henry cackles; she pushes it across the table, and he takes it.] You didn't need to cut off THAT much, but thanks!

[One of the colonists accosts the nearest person and demands that they ruin Henry's perfect streak of wins: he already lost a tooth to this brat! This cannot go on any longer. He needs to taste defeat the way he tastes blood. Henry laughs.]

Sure, I'll play. It's pretty fun, and the people around here don't back down from anything. Do you wanna bet against me?

the mission

II. junked ship
(E) Something useful, something useful... Geez, that's a toughie.

[Magda gave everyone something to think about, but that doesn't mean Henry's going to ignore either his or Darma's requests for parts. Wandering around inside of the destroyed ship, Henry comes to the realization that it bears a striking resemblance to the one he woke up on. It's something more to think about, for Henry.

Aside from having a difficult time determining what constitutes as "useful", Henry's alone, and that makes it all the more prudent to partner up. As soon as he spots someone else, he makes his approach.]

This place sure does look a lot like Thesa Station. How often do these spacey ships make crash lands, anyway?

other

Send me a PM if you'd like to explore another part of the setting or try out a different prompt and I'll be happy to oblige.

cantina!!

[nineteenfortyfive]

"What's wrong with it?"

Claire asks with a raised brow, hand paused in mid-reach. She's not in a mood to get sloshed, or even tipsy, but she could use a drink to wash away the anxiety that's been building ever since they were whisked away to the station. What happens if they don't find a way to stop the dragon here? Their audience with Magda wasn't great.

Now she can't even have a mystery drink?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Yeah, holy shit, that’s definitely Amaterasu, or else he’s hallucinating with the cold.

... Is that a thing that can happen? He knows that people in deserts tended to see oases, only to be horribly disappointed when they lurch forward and find more sand, but do people in the middle of snowstorms tend to see familiar god-dogs and hear their voices in their heads?

In either case, he gathers his jacket a little more firmly around him, moving to close the distance between them. This place better be worth all the trouble it’s taking to get there. ]

... Uh.

[ Sorry, Ammy, he’s a little dumbstruck with that commanding tone and presence, and more than a little chagrined. Her tone reminds him a lot of his third grade teacher on a field trip. “Stay with the group, Peter. Why aren’t you with your buddy? If you wander off one more time, I’m taking away your recess for the rest of the week.”

At her question, he hesitates before closing the distance, nodding and reaching out. ]

Probably. You kind of blend in with everything.

images of home

[willrevile]

[ 'Oh god no telepathic bullshit please get this off my face', is perhaps audible as a new person Iskander calls out to veers into his blast radius. Jim's currently peeling one of the ear cuffs off of himself, while trying to balance a cup of coffee.

Graceful princess. He stops short, half-juggling his items, and looks up. (And up.) ]

Hi. [ Eyebrows. He tosses his hair back from his forehead, trying to look less like he was in a fight with a hearing aid. ] Japan, huh?

[fisherwife]

I didn't want to make you any colder than you already were. [Assuming he was cold to begin with. Even demons felt extreme cold like this, right? Now she's not quite sure.

But there's a fondly exasperated little smile at him and she reaches for him, wanting to tug him down for a little kiss if he'll let her.] I suppose I'm being a little bit silly, aren't I. [Since she's too busy worrying about everyone else again rather than looking after her own well-being.]

ii!

[quintessent]

I'm not sure— [Allura dips to help gather the pictures. Roxas' are mixed with a handful of ones despicting a strange land that floats in a sky of pinks and blues, and beautiful fields of pink flowers, and... for some reason a room with what looks like a swimming pool on the ceiling?

Her hand pauses over the familiar images, eyes flickering with recognition and she frowns, hesitant to pick them up. Releasing her breath, she instead she goes for one of a strange land, gingerly offering the one of the city in the sunset to him,] ...Is this your home?

[She assumes. El Nysa sure likes shoving their memories back into their faces, it seems.]

[planetary_bonds]

Pictures of my friends-?

[Whoops there he goes, in front of the camera before he can even protest.

He's left confused and blinking by the flash. Never did get used to the paparazzi back home.]

A warm? welcome

[nevernoaction]

"Oh...I didn't realize someone's already been assigned here."

Well, it's not like he hasn't shared a room with men and women before. The young man looks very solemn...except for the streak of pink in his long black hair.

"Hello, my name's Ren."

[beatupgrass]

[The sound of metal striking metal echoes through the empty ship as Rocket jumps to his feet, his tools falling onto the floor abandoned. One hand goes for the canister like device on his back, while another snatches up the abandoned wrench.]

Okay, who the hell said that? [He bares his teeth in a snarl. Look it's been awhile since anyone looked at him and went "SHIT FREE FOOD." He is not inclined to be polite about it now that it's come unexpectedly.]

ii

[nineteenfortyfive]

[Things get stranger and stranger. Claire's a little startled herself by the flash, but it's all relative now with the technology in the city. Photographs? It takes a moment, brain catching up to her eyes.]

None of those are mine. What makes you think they're yours?

[Strange, to have a flash and then seemingly random photos appear. But perhaps not so random if he can claim them.]

IV. Because surely nothing bad can come of this

[nevernoaction]

How many different kinds of liquor are in...whatever you just made?

[Ren's not much for drinking, not wanting to be like Qrow and get to like the taste. At the same time, they'd been through an incredibly harsh journey just to get to this place. Maybe one drink wouldn't hurt?]

[beatupgrass]

[Rocket yanks the bag over without looking over from where he's assembling some kind of LoJack-like device. After everything that's happened, having a way of tracking the other Guardians is something he would deeply like to invest his time into.]

I know the important words. [He's grown as a person. He actually admits he listens to that music and loves it now.] Though we really gotta build you a better stereo system for the house if it's not wrecked to shit.

[pullsheavendown]

[Roxas doesn't miss how startled this guy looks when the calls forth the fire, but if he's not going finish his question just yet, Roxas will hold off on offering answers for the moment. It's not that he minds, but he wants to get moving before they freeze in place.]

Hey, no problem. Just remember you said that if I don't throw it far enough. [Ha, ha. Just a joke, it'll be fine. They're fine. He smiles at the stranger, and holds his hand out a little farther so they can both get some warmth.] I'm Roxas, by the way. What's your name?

[shikomizue]

Thank you for such an awesome new development, mods!

1) Are the memories generated in the photographs from the recent past, or from any point in a character's recollection?

2) Will messages be able to be sent via these earcuffs once outside of Nadril's reach? Are messages sent through the earcuffs hidden from Natha surveillance?

3) Piggy-backing off of that, is there any local interest/progress (with the populace or with Magdar himself), in developing tech to block the Natha entirely? Would Magdar be willing to share the tech he provided Raysc, provided a character wins his trust? Will there be IC avenues to do this, like quests, for example?

4) Late question but what are the medical amenities aboard Thesa? Would characters who were injured in the Dragon fight be healed?

[reek]

[ It’s almost relaxing in a way, the pattern of casting and staring off across the ice until he can reel in something new. His mind doesn’t wander too far, and he’s grateful for it. ]

I don’t have any.

[ It’s the truth. He’s just doing what he learned as a boy. Cast your line, be silent, be still, be patient. Theon had been a shy and quiet child, a far cry from the proud and brash young man he became, and he had been a fair fisherman for it. His return to stasis, along with his new wounds and fresh fears, have all seemed to force him back into his childhood habits. ]

It may be that you just found a bad spot. You can try mine, if you like.

since the doggos are mia, iii

[persistor]

[ Red, on the other hand, could use the chance to warm up — the cold weather doesn't agree with her in the slightest, given the perfectly mild climates she's spend her entire life in. Information gathering comes ... last, in a scenario like this, when bars give her the warmth, the drinks, and the entertainment.

( And like everything else in Nysa, anonymity. )

But the familiar faces are nice — one particular familiar face more so than the rest when a drinking competition gets thrown around. It wouldn't be their first time competing together, technically. Still creating art, just a slightly different kind.

Except — some may call it an act of kindness, but Red just raises her eyebrows. Barely hesitates before she picks out a vodka and gin equivalent, and raises an eyebrow. Don't go easy on her, who do you think you are Ocelot?? ]

V

[nevernoaction]

A fortune? You mean fortune telling?

[This from a very sober young man with very long black hair. Even with all of the crazy things he'd had the dubious pleasure of either witnessing or hearing from his friend Nora, fortune telling wasn't one of them.]

Ianto Jones | Torchwood | ota!

[torchwoodteaboy]

A FROZEN LAND
Ianto's never been very fond of the cold. He's lived in and around Cardiff most of his life, and London when he'd managed to venture 'abroad', and both cities are hardly the frozen wasteland the the refugees seem to have been dropped down into.

Their one saving grace, Ianto supposes, is that the Natha have seen to go easy and supply them with the necessary cold weather gear and supplies. Though he supposes that he can't imagine surviving in this environment without them. He's having a hard time imagining survival even with.

Reaching to pull his hood further up over his head, Ianto wraps his arms around himself, sticking his hands under his arms for warmth and squinting into the distance for any sign of light or civilization in the distance. Or any life at all, for that matter.

"Where's the dragon fire when you need it," Ianto mutters miserably to himself, and to any passersby that might be listening into his complaints. "Do you think that they could have dropped us off any further away?"

A WARM WELCOME
A. Ianto gratefully accepts a cider and a blanket upon entering the city. The journey was arduous and the liquid is warm in his hands as well as his belly. The wristlets and ear cuffs are another matter entirely. They're free, which means that Ianto takes them when they're offered. He's not so certain about the idea of thought-to-speech technology, however, so he leaves the cuffs off for now, slipping them into his pockets even despite their promise for added warmth. He'll just keep his ridiculous hat, thanks.

It's hard to wander the city without being drawn to the Central, and so it is that Ianto first finds himself there. Not, as some of its residents might, in its mess hall, but wandering down its corridors until he locates the history facility. And within it...

Ianto blinks as he spots an item of technology he recognizes. Not something that's technically native to Earth, but. "Where in god's name would you have found a Bekaran deep tissue scanner?" he wonders aloud, stepping forward to pick the device up and power it on -- if it works.

B. Ianto can't really put his foot on why the little robots scurrying and flitting around everywhere make him feel on edge. (Who is he kidding, yes he can, and it has everything to do with the hostile takeover that his girlfriend tried to stage before all four members of his team quite rightly shot her dead in front of him.) Who knows what eyes and ears are spying on them through their little mechanical viewfinders, or worse, whether those little eyes and ears have minds of their own.

As such when one of the little flying insect bots jumps out to release a series of flashes in front of his face, Ianto lets out a startled yelp that would hardly be called manly even on the best of days. The bot has no pity for his rapidly thundering heartbeat and merely deposits a series of photographs in the snow in front of him before casually flitting off from whence it came.

Carefully, Ianto steps forward to pick them up and nearly drops the things all over again. For in his hands he holds a spread of images that have no right to be there. The Beacons. The fountain just outside on the Plass. And most alarmingly, a couple of shots of the inside of the Torchwood Hub.

Ianto all but drops the photographs again, spinning to try and see where the little bot had gone and straight into the person beside him.

"Jesus--"

THE FROSTY TAP
It's the combination of the photographs, the cold, and the little robots that send Ianto on his way to visit the Frosty Tap. It's just that they're everywhere, the little bots, and Ianto's nerves are starting to fray because of it. A drink sounds nice, both to warm himself up as well as to calm himself down. It's the bar itself that gives him pause though. And the bartender, for that matter.

He shoots her a pleasant enough smile. Trying to act natural. Trying to pretend like three eyes and lilac skin is something he encounters every day. In a way, it is, but usually when he's running into something that is 'Other', it's on the other side of his gun, and they're usually trying to kill him. She seems pleasant enough, however Ianto barely listens to her explanation of how to serve himself his drink, so distracted he is by trying to act natural.

As he sits himself down with a bright purple cocktail that seems to be smoking slightly, he may be regretting that decision. Letting out a breath, he spreads the photographs out on the table before himself, picking through them warily before glancing over his shoulder at the game on the holoscreen beyond.

"The Sport..." Ianto tones to himself, reaching bravely for his glass to take a sip and promptly choking once he does.

THE MISSION
On one hand, Ianto knows that if they want to get any information out of Magda himself they're going to have to help him. Get in his good graces by doing as they're asked and scavenging technology for the nearby wreck and bringing it back to him. Even as he agrees to it, there's something about the thought of it that sets him on edge as well. He understands Magda's mistrust of the Natha, and wants to hear more about why it is that this first refugee feels this way. On the other hand, does he really trust him enough to place his life in his hands? Of that he's not so certain. He trusted Raysc in the first, after all. Gave him the ability to raise the dragon uninhibited.

He just keeps going over it in his head. Magda and Raysc, working together. Magda helping him. Magda wanting to help them now. Magda not trusting the Natha, but Magda's clearly such an excellent judge of character, for all the years he's been on this planet.

Ianto puts his hands on his hips as he surveys the wreckage of the Natha ship in front of him, wondering where they're even supposed to begin collecting parts out of it, and what parts Magda's looking for. He's not the only person there, of course. Not the only person Magda has directed to this crash to scavenge for him. But he wonders if he's the only one questioning him, on the other hand.

"Are we really supposed to trust him?" Ianto asks aloud.

((ooc: i default to writing in prose but if you would rather write with me in brackets i am more than happy to switch! also if you want a prompt that is not listed, just shoot me a PM or hit me up at lycanthropy101 and let's chat!))

[nineteenfortyfive]

Oh, don't you start. [Said to Bree, even though she's already started with that laughter. A good thing Claire's mostly unconcerned with the state of her hair. It's no longer carefully permed and flattened. Most days, it's free to be a messy, curly nest that she occasionally ties back.]

And you. Whatever you are, that's quite rude, isn't it? Suggesting a woman dye her hair.

[A brush would help, too.]

For God's sake...

C

[nevernoaction]

[That's not really any kind of distance that can bother Ren. Years of traveling and training have given him a certain amount of grace. Such that he leaps into the opening and lands cat quiet.

Ren nods, appreciative of the warning, at any rate.]

[judicia]

Maker, yes.

( He says it almost like he was waiting for Ocelot to suggest it. It's easier for him to deal with his claustrophobia if he has someone in the room with him, but that still doesn't change the fact that it's tighter than a gnat's arse in here. )

I can't stand being in this place.

( He walks over to the one of the panels in the wall, his fingertip already sparking with electricity before he even touches it. He looks over at Ocelot, making sure he's not touching anything metallic before he lays his hand on it and causes the lights to flicker. Once they're back on, Anders looks satisfied. )

All right. Let's go before he himself turns back on.

Awww, not the flu!

[nevernoaction]

Not that I know of...are you all right?

[A valid question, given how Slaine looks rather unstable at the moment. Ren puts a hand on his shoulder in concern.]