❪ 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

warm welcome, i.

[defenses]

[ it's no surprise that people are tired. the journey was a trial in itself, and it's amazing that they've all managed to make it through together. a concept that he's proud of somehow. working in groups and pulling through it all together was an idea he was generally fond of, after all. but, putting aside sentiments, despite being exhausted himself, he's been doing his best to check in with people and lend a shoulder when necessary.

though, he hasn't meant it so literally. initially, he had planned to slide in next to her to offer one of those tech accessories to keep warm (granted, he was still personally working out the kinks), but it's in this process that he feels her nod off next to him. from sheer motor response, he ends up cradling her head against his shoulder. ]

Ah— [ should he wake her up?? ]

/prays for claire

[givingback]

It's okay. I'm starting to realize my mother hasn't told everyone everything. Hopefully, she didn't expect me to keep her secrets.

[ Because if so, well, Bree's doing a terrible job. ]

I've met him once here, on the ship. But that's all; I don't know what he thinks yet, not really. I don't even know what to think about everything. All of this, the ship, the technology, almost freezing to death, and now my family, it's all a lot.

[ In a fairly short amount of time, too. ]

I'm still trying to figure out how to process it all.

[givingback]

[ The least Bree can do is help search for the switch, though her fingers still feel somewhat numb at the tips. She shouldn't let this thing keep insulting her mother. ]

Is there a computer that will make me warm again? It feels like my bones are still cold.

[ Boston winters prepared her for NOTHING. ]

[warmare]

[It's the old man from the sleeping chamber.

Hayame's expression twitches in displeasure when he reveals to her what it is he carries. Small, strange and colorful things, barely a noticeable weight to them... and something inside, which required twisting and reaching, squirreling for parts like... well, scavenging was what this task was. Yet still, the idea of actually looking like a thief of such low status is displeasing to her.

Her bare arms tense, muscles ripple beneath dun coat along her side. She was built for power and speed, not... furtive snatchings and crawling through machines. Still-]

There is nothing of more weight that can be taken?

[Something she can do that someone else can't. Something to please the orbiters who hold her... people.]

[flask]

[Nott shrugs, feeling... kind of bad for Bree, like she says. She is clearly not taking this whole thing very well. Nott's stance on the whole debacle is that as long as Caleb is safe, she can take anything else. And he is. So she's fine.

Panicky and nervous and suspicious as hell, but fine.]

I'm probably as ignorant as you are. I hadn't even heard of half the stuff they've got here before seeing it! I still don't know what any of it even does.

[She bites her cheek a bit, with the finesse of someone who's had incredibly sharp teeth all her life and knows how to not injure herself with them.]

Anyway, I haven't actually poisoned that many people. Most of it's been on accident, actually. But some people aren't all that nice.

[Particularly people like her.]

[nineteenfortyfive]

[You might want to get under the covers, the helpful voice suggests.]

Well, at least it can do more than sass. Go on, Bree. Get comfortable. I have a feeling we won't be able to figure out this bloody thing, anyway.

[Would you like to access your calendar?

Claire sighs.]

No.

[heirworthy]

[ yeah, well. Sandalphon likes taking his chances, as usual.

he snorts amusedly at the remark, dipping his hand into the water. it's surprisingly not ice cold as he would've imagined it to be, given this planet. the ripples his hand makes travel to the center and soon enough, the water is still once more. ]

I'd like to see it try and eat me. Perhaps it'll get indigestion. [ he can definitely sense life in the water but whatever it is, he's unable to determine it. it's kind of curious and kind of frustrating. ] Do you not want to feel the water? It's not quite as cold as one would expect.

Cantina

[ukase]

Rumlow wasn't much of a drinker, but he was one to engaged into the currency of dare-or-be-dared. He watched the sport like everyone else, nursing a drink because it seemed appropriate to but hardly touched it all the same. There were roars of laughter as a new dare was carried out on the other side of the establishment, and he craned his neck to see.

There was a merry boisterous song that went up in the face of successful daring adventures, and like many who had come to know one another for the more risky or humiliating dares, he joined in by clapping a hand on the top of the table he was sitting at. He raised his glass in toast with the other, about to sip for the sake of it when, after one particularly hard slap of his palm on the table, his metacarpals decided push through his skin and poke up over his knuckles like claws.

He froze, the process having hurt only somewhat, but the shock of it was enough to still him in his seat. A few people who could see also froze with a morbid horror of their own, and he set his glass back on the table and managed a weak sort of laugh.

"...anyone happen to be a medic around these parts?" This sort of incident reminded him oddly of the sneezing glass event some time ago.

[sweetwater]

Isn't that how it always goes? They should be glad we'd deign to visit their stupid ice prison. [ as usual, interesting interpretation of the situation by Cheryl. ] Some of us would have been happy to stay on the station.

[ it isn't all bad though: ] I do like these, though. [ she gestures to indicate her cuff/mittens. ] Have you seen anything like them before?

[stuns]

[ juno watches just how meticulously he shuffles those cards, brow furrowed, right eye glittering just faintly in a spectrum of colors. the theia watches those motions, doesn't pay much mind to them, but there's a thoroughness to it all. juno's naturally suspicious, a detective after all. he turns to look at him directly at that last bit. ugh. puns. ]

I guess that makes me a real lucky lady considering I don't have any silver on me.

[ he reaches for his drink again once fully settled in his chair, legs locked around the bottom as he takes a mouthful and then gestures forward with the hand holding the glass. ]

So, fortune teller. What's in the cards?

[heirworthy]

[ aaaand he stops in mid-thought for a bit.

so this mental telepathy thing has only happened once in his entire lifetime and that's during his predecessor's death so it's a little disconcerting and alarming. but Sandalphon remains calm anyway and starts addressing the voice.

maybe he can figure it out where it's from later on??? ]

People call it the Central. [ he doesn't understand why it's called the central when it's not in the middle but w/e. ] That's where I found it.

Mission

[ukase]

Salvage operations were easy, relatively speaking, especially in a dangerous half-buried space wreckage. There were some people out this way, but most seemed content to buddy up and meander to wreckage without perhaps an idea of what was valuable. Some of the areas were clearly dangerous, others would become more so depending on the people inhabiting them.

Rumlow wasn't about to lose the opportunity for some leverage to acquire answers or maybe just a future place in this frozen shithole. He moved through the wreckage into the deeper and more dangerous areas, those with what he would consider the highest pay offs. He had an eye for what kind of tech would be useful to bring back, not because he was an engineer or mechanic but because he had done this sort of thing before and had instructions buried in years of exposure.

He carried his gear, a knife strapped to his leg and a sidearm hidden in his jacket. He had two big sacks to hold any of his loot, but he was working with a screwdriver that he had acquired along the way to remove bolts from a panel in the half-collapsed wall. He paused though as the hair on the back of his neck rose, and it was a deeply familiar sensation that he only turned his head once he had a screw out and tucked into a pocket.

Then he turned where he was working alone and lifted an eyebrow at the sight that greeted him. Alone but very much not unarmed. He wasn't certain he would be recognized, least of all with winter goggles sitting on the top of his head, and well... when had ol' Winter had a good memory anyway?

"Here this place is dangerous to work alone in, champ," he said conversationally, testing the murky waters. "Maybe you should go baby-sit some green-horn."

caves!

[baguablade]

[ Unlike the angel standing at the edge of the water, Cain's bundled up to the very tips of his ears, a scarf wrapped several times around his neck and hiding his face to his nose, his coat pulled closely closed. Idelva, after all, was temperate, and Olympia and Wyver quite comfortable in temperature for most of the year. This bitter cold isn't something Cain's used to at all. But that hasn't stopped him from exploring, and the still cavern has drawn his interest with what should be a convenient source of water that the natives seem afraid to make use of.

The figure standing at the lake's edge is familiar — unmistakable, with those brown wings, for all that Cain's only caught glimpses of the angel aboard the Grancypher. And the words coming from his mouth... There's no doubt, even if Cain hadn't had that clue, that this is someone from his world. He grins, quiet footsteps carrying him to the angel's side, and cocks his head as he peers into the glassy water for a sign of what the angel's looking at. ]

Probably hungry, whatever it is. [ He says it very cheerfully and pulls off his scarf, going up on his tiptoes to drop it around Sandalphon's neck. Unlike him, the angel doesn't even have a coat; just looking at Sandalphon is making him cold, even if he's got those big, fluffy wings. ] I'm glad to see another of the crew's made it. I'm Cain.

[ He offers his name, just in case. An archangel, the new Supreme Primarch, probably had too much going on to take notice of most of the crew, unless things had changed much in the time since Cain'd been lost to the Storm and Sandalphon had been. ]

Images of Home

[ukase]

[Ugh, Rumlow wasn't interested in pictures because memories of the past were dangerous, especially of his past. He had done some nasty shit in his time, so he mostly just stuffed the wads of pictures into his pockets without more than a glance at them. He wasn't want to kiss and tell his little secrets anyway.

But Christ, there was a monster of a man jamming pictures under people's noses, and he made it seem as if he were too busy to want to participate. No such luck, there was a picture of Japan practically slapping at him, and he stopped in the street and sighed as he looked.]

Don't get to comfortable remember Japan. It doesn't exist anymore, remember?

[ukase]

So the rooms were kind of assigned at random, much like a toy from a cereal box like when he was a kid. He was given a number and directions and left to his own devices, and he spent most of his time exploring rather than bothering to figure out where he was sleeping. Hell, he could sleep on the floor if he really wanted to, but apparently it was frowned upon and by about midnight, he was pushing open the door to the ice hotel and found a guy already there.

Hey, he knew that voice, sort of. He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, having ascertained where his bed was just from the light pouring in. He estimated the paces it would take and headed in that direction.

"Just your roomie for the night, pal. I'm not here to do anything untoward on you," he said then the smirk could practically be heard in his voice. "...unless you're into that or something. Haven't we met before, champ?"

[a] warmish weclome

[nineteenfortyfive]

[Claire's been making her way up and down parts of the group, checking in one some friends she know might not be able to keep pace. It means she's expending more energy going back and forth, but she's a sturdier woman than her appearance might make one believe. Moving helps her keep warm, anyway, but it's her height that has her entirely oblivious to the form in the snow until she quite literally trips over Krile.

She doesn't fall, luckily, but she does swear thinking someone must have dropped something.

Apparently not.]

Krile? Is that you? Are you all right?

[Then she does drop, trying to hoist her upright.]

wildcards u!!!

[defenses]

[ in the midst of trial and tribulation, it's always a comfort to have a companion or a familiar face. with how much they've traveled, and the strife that has ensued prior to all of this, now was... undeniably a case of that. admittedly, keaton is both of those things for vane— someone familiar, a companion— and so somehow he finds his spirits lifted when he catches sight of him. with his arm raised in a wave, he approaches him with his usual affable smile.

quickly, he ends up slinging his arm around keaton as he speaks candidly. ] Hey! It's good to see you, big guy! [ he's already patting a hand against keaton's shoulder, and unsurprisingly... he's warmer than he expects? an idea he's about to express, but unfortunately...

a loud and blaring alarm starts ringing between them.


ah, he really shouldn't have picked up this tech when he has no idea how it works??

somehow his excitement sparked off an alarm in the earmuff system. ]

Frozen Land (a)

[ukase]

[There was a running joke in the STRIKE teams on where the most dangerous places to be were along with the most dangerous people to encounter them. For Romanoff, it had been decided that the most dangerous places to meet her were on the dance floor or in a snow storm; in either case, by the rise of the sun, there wouldn't be a body to find.

Rumlow was no stranger to adverse weather or moving through the worst of it. He was, however, used to better technology than lights as a way of navigation, but he was getting used to going back to the basics as well. This was just another one of those situations where one's experience and wits came in extreme handy.

When she approached him, he knew that his own white gear limited how much she might recognize him. However, he knew her voice instantly, the tease of her voice. He turned his head, pushing his goggles up to squint at her before returning them safely over his eyes.]

You'd actually hardcore ski this shit. Give me a pair of snowshoes, and I'll be happy. Or a snowmobile, but nooooooo [He dragged out the word in a whiny dramatic voice for show.] ... we don't have that tech out in these parts. Leg it like the peons you are.

[stargatemedic]

More than he might believe, TJ understands. Not just school, but like the military and a lot of other places, she believes she knows what he means when he says 'assigned' and it's entirely possible that she's been mistaken. However, when he offers to find another room, she's not going to stop him.

However, she steps forward to stop him from going just yet. "Maybe they are, maybe they aren't. Even if we're not sharing a room, I'm sure we'll see each other around. Did you walk over with the others?"

[heirworthy]

[ ... he can't help but stare at the weird silhouette on the other side of his bed, waving frantically like a mad man and yelling hello at him like he can't hear him when he's barely a meter away.

he's tired and cold from walking through ice and Sandalphon at least had privacy in the Grandcypher, never mind the Singularity's habit of picking up pretty much everyone they meet. but this scenario is just ridiculous, far more ridiculous than having to share his dreams with a young girl. it's a bedroom, for gods' sake.

instead of addressing whoever that yellow-haired creature behind that ice wall, Sandy turns around in his bed and pulls the blanket over him to hopefully drown out the sound. only it probably looks like his silhouette is getting up or whatever on the other side of the ice.

it doesn't drown anything out, though. vane is just that obnoxious. ]

cheese

[reinhardtzar]

[ sorry sandy, he's unfortunately large. let's say he's aware of his fellow crewmate's newfound presence and has decided to hang around for a bit — draph anatomy is terribly inconvenient.

a lone eye squints at the picture he holds between his gloved fingers. he does as he's told, apathetically motioning it towards sandalphon.

not so apathetically— ]

I wasn't here for the entire story — caught word of bits and pieces.

[ a beat. ]

I saw a photo of Torhid. It feels a bit like...

We're being screwed with.

[stargatemedic]

"I haven't seen snow in years," TJ admits. "It's not common where I'm from."

And then, because talking about it makes it seem more real, she gives a shiver, too. Tightening her coat around her, she takes a deep breath, something that's not easy to do in the biting wind, and asks, "How long have you been here?"

[nostalgiabomb]

God, no.

[ And he says it emphatically.

... and possibly a little too immediately. Whoops.

Listen, Nott’s made a very distinct impression, and that impression is “Wildcard.” And not in a fantastic way? Like, maybe if they were in the middle of a life-threatening situation and his choices were “trust this weird green chick” or “perish,” he might be a little friendlier to her.

But, well. They’re in a store, and the biggest threat in here is the store clerk, frowning at them in a way that reads more like weirded out than actively wary. ]

Have fun with your robomouse.

2

[ukase]

[Gods were a thing, apparently. Battle of New York must have made the religious groups lose their shit, but it hadn't exactly made him a believer of God again. However, Thor was big, and it was a shame the guy could clobber him into the ground like he was nothing or he might have approached for some sparring. Of course, the last time he'd seen the Thunderbolts-and-Lightning, there had definitely been more... hair. A lot more.

He was just watching, but when the pet was nearly crushed and the question directed at him, he took the opportunity to shake his head in complete disappointment.] Not anymore I guess. [It wasn't actually his.] Maybe you should watch where you're putting your feet, Mr. God. What if I was a kid and burst into tears?

[Well, he could technically cry on command, but it wasn't his favourite and just wouldn't have the same delightful reaction from other people.]

[stargatemedic]

Sitting sideways on her stool, TJ had also been watching the different dares take place, not entirely sure that she'd be up to the task if dared herself. Her drink had been partially consumed, though she'd lost confidence in her ability to keep a clear head after the first two swallows. Wanting to determine how the local liquor affected her before downing the rest of her drink, she'd left it there while she'd paid attention the happenings on around her.

When a voice behind her asked for a medic, her brows furrowed as she swiveled back toward the bar and turned her head to see where the voice was coming from. The sight she was met with was a bit more disturbing than she was expecting and eyebrows went into blonde hair as she realized that the man's bones had exited his body and were now poking out like...

"Are those--" TJ leaned close, now in full concern mode. "Do you have claws or is this something new?" She dropped from a sitting position on the stool to a standing position near him. Realizing she hadn't identified herself to him, she lifted her gaze and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Lieutenant Johansen, United States Air Force." For whatever that means to someone with claws. She's met a lot of people Not From Earth. "I'm a medic."