❪ 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

[flask]

[Nott jumps about her entire height into the air when a stranger suddenly mutters something incriminating to her, and then she hurriedly stuffs the rat tail deeper into her cloak with very little finesse and a lot of panic.]

I don't know what you're talking about!!

[Said in the whisperiest shout possible. She takes another quick look around to make sure he hasn't alerted anyone to her crimez, then glares up at him. Not in a mean way really, but in a "maybe if I look grumpy at this person they'll want to leave me alone and not try to cut my hands off or something" way. There's more than a little bit of nervous energy to it.]

What do you want?

[reek]

[ Theon silently passes his blade over without question, vaguely wondering if it’s worth pushing the subject any further. Perhaps he’ll wait. He turns his gaze to the wall instead, intending to remain silent until Maximus has found what he’s looking for, but Ralf pipes up suddenly:

The AI pipes up suddenly: Whose funeral are you two going to? You know colors other than black exist, don’t you?

Theon sighs, passing a hand over his face. ]

Seven hells, if this thing had a neck I could wring...

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Even through the thick gloves he wears, the chill is still biting into his fingers, leaving them stiff and aching. (It's going to be an awful look, he thinks, if one of those bad boys end up getting frost bitten. The others would never let him hear the end of it.) Still, he gets a decent grip on her fur, and her reassurance makes him tighten his grip a little – or at least, as much as he can with the cold sinking into his bones. ]

Yeah. I'm good.

[ He jerks his chin forward, gesturing for her to lead the way. ]

You're sure you know the way back to everyone else?

[illuminating]

[ she settles to sniff hand, wrist, following her own snout along his inner arm. ]

I'm not used to it, [ she confirms, her curiosity urging her to circle, it's all languid-based. borderline lazy, and when she's through, she's groaning into a stretch. ] Is it very loud? [ if he had meant an expression, it's lost on her. ] Is it painful, bothersome?

[reek]

Aye, and six toes.

[ He doesn’t talk about those as much, just like he doesn’t talk about the grotesque scars littering his body. Out of sight, out of everybody else’s mind, but those four missing toes are the exact reason he’s struggling so horribly to find his balance in the snow. ]

Those aren’t all you can lose to frostbite.

[ The tip of poor Jeyne Poole’s nose had been blackened with it by the time they’d reached Stannis Baratheon’s camp. He had carried that damned girl through the snow on his own. He’s going to get himself through this storm now. ]

D

[flask]

[Nott is alarmed and takes the stance of a deer in the headlights when she's accosted to bet against someone who apparently took the Luck feat, but while she's definitely a Rogue, she does not have access to that particular skill. Nor does she have a Dodecahedron to emulate it with. She's about to decline, when she glances over and recognizes the man in question.

...Well, what the hell, she's drunk enough to talk to him a second time. Even if the first time was kind of embarrassing in retrospect, considering Caleb is awake and well now. Henry may or may not recognize her without her mask, who knows. (He probably will, it's not a very good disguise.)

She tries to smoothly saunter over and lean against a bar stool, only she completely misses and unsmoothly knocks her forehead against it. MAYBE SHE'S JUST GETTING HER BAD LUCK OUT OF THE WAY FIRST, OKAY.]

Ow... Uh! I'll bet something! What are we betting?

1b;

[nostalgiabomb]

[ This place better be goddamn worth it, Peter thinks. He's never taken well to the cold, even less well to the possibility of freezing to goddamn death, but he was getting some serious cabin fever up on the station. When his options were have a psychotic break like Jack Torrance in the Overlook Hotel, or freezing some fingers off—

Wait. Didn't Jack freeze to death at the end of The Shining, too?

... Peter may have miscalculated.

Anyway. All this to say, Peter is not a happy camper – not that anyone one else here is. Everyone's cold and miserable and huddling around the fire in almost dead silence. He wraps his coat more tightly around himself, grumbling a little about how he's definitely going to lose a few fingers and toes before they reach this stupid city, when the dude next to him spreads his arms. ]

... Uh.

[ Peter blinks, then glances around.

Then, ]

... Are you talking to me?

[illuminating]

Is it preferable?

[thetaintedsorrow]

Will? Does that mean he woke up?

[As for the hot chocolate, Chuuya isn’t sure if such a thing exists in Nadril...]

I mean. Maybe there’s a hot drink equivalent to it here. Have you asked around?

[thedarkbond]

If you say so~ [It's a lot easier to sound unbothered by the situation when there's a clear course back to where they're supposed to be heading, so Ren remains cheery as he holds onto the bike. Despite his carefree demeanour, he's keeping himself on as tight as he can - he's pretending to be oblivious, not recklessly idiotic.

It's hard to miss how unnaturally well the bike moves and handles, though, as well as the whole glowing thing. It's not an area of particular experience to Ren, but he has a sneaking suspicion even a professional rider would have trouble with a normal bike on terrain like this.

Makoto's introduction breaks him out of his lengthy observation of the bike, though, and he offers a bright smile despite the fact that she probably needs to focus ahead right now.] Suzugamori Ren, but just Ren is fine. It's nice to meet you too, Makoto-san. Did you bring this bike with you from home?

[The question is inoffensively worded and in a bright tone, implying a genuine and almost childish curiosity despite Ren clearly being a good few years older than her.]

[thedarkbond]

[Some humans might be inclined to bow or express some kind of humility before gods. Ren, however, simply looks rather delighted before reaching out his hand to respond to the greeting without hesitation. His grip is firm and certain, akin to the familiar confidence someone in business might have.]

So I was right, huh? I'm Suzugamori Ren, but just Ren is fine. I left most of my fancy titles behind back home.

[The upbeatness of his tone wavers very slightly in those last few words, and he's acutely aware of the fact, reaching for a topic change. That Thor is the second god he's met here so far says a lot - that maybe he shouldn't feel so bad himself for not being able to do anything about the Storm when even gods apparently couldn't - but he doesn't want to open himself to that kind of vulnerable discussion just yet.]

I guess this kind of big march must be easy for you, then. [Ren rests his chin on one hand, watching the larger man. His expression is still benign and lighthearted, but again, his attentiveness and interest seem to have sharpened a little.]

[thedarkbond]

[Oh good, he got someone who definitely seems to know what they're doing. Ren considers his words before turning to look at the little part again, tilting his head.]

Alright, so then it's better to have it than not have it... [After an exaggerated hum and a little more inspection of the part, he laces his fingers into the wires around it to start carefully untangling it.]

Have you seen a lot of this kind of stuff before? [It's an innocent question, posed in a tone that could almost be described as childish curiosity. Ren wants more information on what they're working with here, but he prefers to come off unaware this early in the piece with a new person.] It's really weird compared to what I'm used to.

[thedarkbond]

[Yep, that definitely looks like she's good and asleep. Unfortunately, that's not the most conducive to Ren also getting asleep, considering that, potential reactions aside, it's just plain rude to climb over someone to find another part of the bed to take up. So, it would seem to be time for plan B, also known as the whinier option.

Poking her snout a bit more persistently, he puts on a tone that's so pouty it's clearly at least partially feigned, but decidedly harder to ignore than his initial, gentle approach.] I know you want to sleep, Amaterasu-san, but I want to sleep too and it'd be rude if I didn't ask you to share the bed...

[It's clearly a terrible dilemma requiring immediate attention, or something along those lines. As tempting as it is to use the thought-to-speech messenger, he can probably be more effectively pouty just like this.]

iii b;

[nostalgiabomb]

[ You know, Peter usually likes scavenging. There's something a little calming about digging through parts, about being elbow deep in the guts of a ship, and prying out veritable treasure.

What he has a problem with is old, rickety, derelict ships in the middle of frozen tundras. Peter and cold don't go well together, really. In fact, he may be grumbling about the possibility of losing a couple toes when the woman in front of him throws out her arm. His lips part to protest, or to at least ask, "What the hell?"

Except a panel from the overhead clatters to the ground in a shower of snow and dirt, and the support beams above groan and creak as everything settles again.

Peter stares for a few breaths. Then, after pursing his lips together for a second, ]

—Good call.

II C

[thetaintedsorrow]

[Being an alcohol enthusiast himself, of course Chuuya is at the bar mixing up his own potent concoction, but even the smoking red drink he’d crafted pales in comparison to the abomination being presented to him by this cheerful stranger. Chuuya’s eyebrows recede into his hairline when he catches a whiff of the cocktail, a strong, almost medicinal smell invading his nostrils.

Nothing about this drink looks appealing, and Chuuya crinkles his nose in distaste at the idea of putting it in his mouth.]

No thanks. That looks like it’ll kill me in one swallow.

[illuminating]

[I can scent them, she answers, her usual soft, and felt, thrumming-cadence returning. As she steps, she tries to find, and adjusts as she needs to, a pace both dependable and not too slow.

There's blue lights marking the way back, as well, informing him. Should you fall behind again, if I'm unable to come for you, you can look for them. Don't touch them, she cautions as a last note on this.

One of her ears cants toward him, as if making up for her being unable to look and look back at him. As if his hand isn't enough, as if she's keeping attentively, doubly certain she hasn't lost him. I know it's painful, but please weather it. Moving will keep you alive, even if it's unbearable.

This wind isn't nature's, she informs as an add on to what she's sharing. It probably sounds cryptic; she means, it's good that they're following it. There's likely some form of civilization if everyone endures for long enough.]

cantina;

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Okay. So Peter might have done a little pregaming, might have had a couple of drinks to warm himself up after they first arrived.

(He knows alcohol doesn't work that way, that it doesn't actually warm you up, but he wasn't about to turn down a free drink, you know?)

So when he steps into the cantina, the dude crowding into his space totally catches him off-guard, and he's a little sluggish to react. And when the dude leans in and steals a kiss, Peter is frozen to the spot.

What the hell?

... On the bright side, he's more startled by it all than actually annoyed, and it was quick and painless enough that it might as well have been nothing. Peter just sort of stares at the dude for a second or two.

Then, his shock melts away as he clicks his tongue, expression pinching a little. ]

You know, most folks buy me a drink first.

mission;

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Usually, Peter likes scavenging. There's something about sorting through junk and pulling out one little bit of treasure that's seriously satisfying. He likes picking through ships even more, likes being elbow-deep in a ship's guts before extracting some valuable part that the wires and screws are reluctant to give up.

The frozen tundra and blatant disrepair of the ship is putting something of a damper on things, though, and Peter is staring hard and dubiously at a corridor, like he's expecting the wall or overhead panels to collapse, or for the deck to fall through.

And then the dude behind him is making little lights, and Peter turns, staring at them. (He thinks, however briefly, of Groot and his little light trick back on the Dark Aster, and Peter feels a brief pang of sadness. He misses that guy.)

But, okay. Focus up, Quill. He glances at the dude offering his help, and Peter takes a second to size the guy up.

He points up at the nearest little bauble. ]

Will these things follow us if we go deeper in?

[illuminating]

[The wolf of her—and probably the god of her, too, proud traits that they both have—makes her groan obstinately. The pitch in his voice has her dreaming of Issun complaining about her sleeping, and when she's in the midst of the transition between being asleep and waking up, she goes to snap him off the bed, to hold him fully in her mouth to make him be quiet.

But of course, there's no fairy-sized man grousing at her, and her nose only collides with the mattress, causing her head to flinch up with a startled whine. It's almost pathetically, her head heavy with the want to sleep, that she finally looks Ren's way, her ears drooping. And she's groaning when she hefts herself up, standing with all four paws, the mattress sinking under her weight, on the bed. She adjusts toward what could be the headboard, and curls up completely on the pillow, makes a whole ball of herself.

He ought to fit, now, right? She licks the roof of her mouth, and tucks her paws under herself, glancing at him one more time, before curling her neck to lay her head down.]

iii

[flask]

[Even Nott, as drunk as she is, winces when she hears and catches the tail end of that encounter over her shoulder. And she's just drunk enough to think it's a good idea to approach Juno afterwards. But they like, had a rapport, right? She didn't just imagine that? She gave him booze and he was grateful? He took a small explosion for her? He probably won't kill her with a shot glass?

As she approaches, she carefully has her hands out in a placating gesture once he catches sight of her.]

I'm not going to kiss you!

[Just to put that on the table. Just clear the air right there.]

I can spare some bandages if you need them?

[In her inebriated haze, she doesn't realize this is his first time seeing her with her mask off. Whoops. Those are some teefers she's got going on. And a fashionable nose ring.]

[thetaintedsorrow]

[Chuuya isn’t expecting a chin on his shoulder, but at least he doesn’t react violently to being surprised like he might any other time. In fact the gesture is welcome, and he leans his head against Keaton’s with a sigh.]

Yeah. It’s me.

[How to explain Corruption to someone like Keaton...]

It’s what happens when I unleash all my power at once. Kinda like a super beast form.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ oh my god why is she like this

Peter almost immediately puts both hands up in a placating sort of gesture, eyes wide and gaze pointed in that particular way that screams, What the fuck are you doing??? ]

Dude. Calm down. [ Peter, in the meanwhile, keeps his voice low, if a little sharp. ] If you keep flailing around like that, someone's definitely gonna come looking.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He grunts in response, gritting his teeth. Peter hates being cold, and if it weren't for the promise of finding a new, mysterious city, he might have just stayed up on the station.

(Curiosity killed the cat, he thinks.)

But, right. Keep moving. Not moving is bad. Not moving means the blood stops flowing, means you get cold that much faster, and even if exhaustion is starting to claw up his limbs, he ignores it.

At her— observation? Reassurance? Whichever it is, Peter grimaces behind the face plate of his mask. ]

Figures. I'm really starting to hate magic.

[ An awkward beat as he remembers who he's talking to, then, sheepishly, ]

... No offense.

[stuns]

[ he waits for her to finish her little investigation of his arm, and then in a slowly paced circled around him. juno remains pretty still, relaxed, pulling his arm up to rest inside his pockets. ]

No, no, it's...

kinda nice? Actually? You have a nice voice. Gotta name?

doot doot rolls in for 2

[hedonistic]

[Having a roommate is a strange experience for Kagari. It'd sort of happened by accident--there weren't really enough rooms and people had to scramble for whatever was available so uH perhaps winding up with a stranger was somewhat inevitable.

Not that he's particularly complaining, really; after you spend seventeen out of your twenty-two years of life in an isolation facility, everything that's not a cell is literal fucking paradise, even being a hunting dog on a leash, like the last two years before the Storm came. And, to be entirely fair, the last time he'd shared a living space with strangers (i.e. his fellow government-employed prisoners) they'd basically become the closest thing he's had to family since he was five years old, so, you know. He's coming at this with a pretty open mind.

But still, it's pretty weird. He's spent the majority of his nine months or so of actual real freedom living by himself in a barely passable shack in Wyver, accountable to nobody for the first time in his life, and now he has someone sharing a room with him and asking him things like if he cares if the mirror gets smashed.

Kagari doesn't bother getting up from where he's flopped on his own bed, playing some kind of PSP game (yes, he brought it through the snowstorm; a man's gotta have priorities okok) and lets out a laugh before he calls back to the bathroom:]

I mean, pretty sure the AI's not like, in the mirror, but sure, go ahead. It'll be funny to see how offended it gets.