❪ 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

QUESTIONS

[natha]

revolver ocelot | metal gear | ota

[shashka]

i. insert asoiaf joke here

[ he'd been through a simulation or two, but there really was something about finding yourself back in the middle of a snowstorm, after nearly a decade in semi-tropical climates.

if he had a stronger patriotic inclination, he might almost feel like a failure as a Russian.

still, when he sees someone else who looks like they're having a harder time, he might offer his scarf. ]

I've been through worse.

[ ...right. so maybe he is more of a "patriot" than he would openly admit. ]

ii. ...how rude

[ Ocelot can't exactly say that he's thrilled with the AI everywhere. he's never exactly trusted things like this, given the world that he's recently come from. and that distrust quickly turns to indignant rage when he hears... ]

Don't you think that you're too old to be playing dress up, cowboy?

[ the nerve. ]

iii. russians and vodka

[ bars are always the first place to find out more information, and so, Ocelot finds himself heading over there almost as soon as he can. and, when the words "drinking" and "competition" come up, well... it's safe to say that he's got an easy in to build up trust with the locals. so he turns to his newfound partner, and... ]

Don't worry if you don't know your way around your liquor.

[ he's a Soviet with drug resistance training. he's got this. ]

iv. the mission

[ well, of course someone else is telling them a different story about the Natha, and that their so-called "benefactors" aren't quite as benevolent as they might initially seem. Ocelot could've said that the moment that he awoke from stasis a year ago. he has no particular loyalty to the Natha, of course. but as long as he remains asleep, he isn't going to do anything to compromise his safety.

but still, you know what they say about curiosity and cats. ]

So he expects us to be his errand boys in exchange for information. [ his tone is even, but there might be just a hint of irritation poking through. after all, this man was still responsible for the whole debacle, and for him being separated from DD. ] Who do you believe? Him, or the Natha?

[ personally, he wouldn't trust either of them. after all, he never trusts anyone, not even himself. but he'll tread carefully and stay in the good graces of both sides, so long as they remain useful. ]

v. wildcard

[ have something else in mind? hit me up at roflskate ]

daisy johnson — aos / mcu — open.

[evite]

✈ arrival.

i. — the march.
( the truth is, she's not prepared for this. going planetside — a strange word to daisy, even after a few days of getting settled on a literal space station — involves more than simply stepping through a door. there's gear to gather, emergency protocols to review, paperwork to sign; if daisy lets herself, it's easy to imagine being back on the bus, the low hum of fellow refugees around her a familiar sound even in unfamiliar situations. that much is easy, in any case. the glowing portal that sends her from thesa station to the planet is not easy — at least, not to reconcile.

dangerously, foolishly, daisy stands still for a moment once the messages clear, her mind trying in desperation to corral and catalog all the sudden information with what little she understands about the natha. she's clearly a little in over her head, and it's only the impatient tug of a stranger's hand against her winterwear that sends her moving again. )

Thanks, ( she offers in a called out reply, but they've already turned back around, facing into the storm in pursuit of the promised destination. it was a kind gesture, even if she can't thank them directly. the least she can do is carry on the idea. to her own nearest companion, daisy holds out her own hand, a tight smile barely visible between her hood, the icy wind, and all her whipping hair. ) Ready? Together?

( what's the saying? all for one, one for all? )

✈ recreation.

ii. — the dare.
( she's never been a mixed drink sort of girl. a beer, a splash of gin and tonic — daisy's never been particular or fussy about her booze, preferring something simple when the mood strikes, and so the cocktail competitions don't hold much appeal for her. she'll try something if a friendly stranger insists, of course (why turn down a free drink?) but she won't seek it out.

the "sport", however, suits her tastes a whole lot more. she's not shy about sidling up to a free seat at a lively table, her own beer bottle with its peeled off label set in front of her as she watches the game and its crowd of excitable observers. it does remind her of hockey, but more the kind of hockey played on uneven neighborhood streets, the kind that often resulted in brash fistfights when someone elbowed the wrong player. she's unsurprised to find the same levels of enthusiasm here.

at one point, the game reaches a fever pitch: two teams are neck-and-neck, the assumed goalies abandoning their posts to add to their respective teams' offensive strategies, and the puck careens back and forth from side to side with gleeful thwacks that echo through the loudspeakers even above the din of the crowd. supporters boo and hiss, cheer and scream, and one turns to daisy with a drunken grin: i betcha he'll score, whatdya say?

who is she to turn down such an offer?

apparently, a loser, since the he in question slings the puck into the net not ten seconds after daisy agrees to her bet. of course he does. she can't be mad, though; she signed up willingly, and so she'll take her betted punishment with grace. the bet, of course, being the drunken man's favorite: a kiss, to a stranger, properly given.

thus, her somewhat subtle approach: find a stranger, flag down the bartender, and pose an offer: ) Kiss me, and next drink's on me.

( so... whatdya say? )

✈ wildcard.

#. — the other.
( feeling up for something else? i'm flexible! rooming disasters in the ice hotel, scavenging adventures in the various nooks and crannies of the ship, or just general exploration — i'm down to clown. feel free to leave me something or hit me up for a custom starter if you prefer! hit me up via pm or semicolons! )

Tamara 'TJ' Johansen | Stargate: Universe

[stargatemedic]

A Frozen Land

Wearing the warm clothing helps, and TJ covers that with her SGC jacket, the Icarus Base patch visible on her arm. As much as she wants to trust what she's being told, she can't. Not with everything else she's heard over the last few days; the various refugees she's met have all had different tales to tell and this seems to be no different.

The wind is breathtakingly cold and she braces herself, turning slightly to focus her sight on what's in front of her, immediately moving out of the main pathway. She's learned from experience to move, just in case someone else has to use the spot she was standing in. With no end in sight to the storm, she keeps walking.

Thankfully, she doesn't manage to lose her way, but keeping an eye on those around her, she asks someone close, "Are you okay?"

The question simply feels idiotic, but it's less long term and more related to their immediate circumstances than anything else.

A Warm(?) Welcome

II. To be honest, TJ's seen worse accommodations, but she's not expecting the Ralf to pipe up and tell her she needs a shower. She makes a face in the general direction of the voice and sets her packs down on one of the beds before looking around. A step to the window provides a view of the world outside and she sights, unsure if this is better or worse than being on the Destiny.

When the door opens, she turns to look at the newcomer, eyebrows raised. Were they supposed to have roommates? It made sense, though she wasn't thrilled with the idea. Her smile was welcoming enough, however, when she said, "Hi, I'm TJ."

Recreation in Nadril

The Frosty Tap Cantina; either A or B

The kind of alcohol TJ had gotten used to wasn't glowing, layered, or anything else like it. Most of the time, it was barely drinkable, but this was something she'd imagined that Las Vegas would love to get in on the ground floor of.

Still, she can be found with something colorful in her hand, watching 'the sport' on a holo-screen, and pretending not to hear the various dares that people are challenging others to. It doesn't mean she's not open to a dare or a drinking contest herself, though, so join her!

Wildcard

aka: Choose Your Own Adventure!

[illuminating]

Hi! I hope this isn't too dumb of a question. I was wondering how the thought-to-speech feature would work. Is it like they think, then say out loud the thought they've had? Or is it messaging thoughts to others, in a sense? OR, am I wrong on both, and it works a different way?

Elliot Nightray | Pandora Hearts

[yelliot]

BABY IT'S COLD OUTSIDE

<sub>[It's official: Elliot Nightray hates winter.

It's sad, really. He actually enjoyed it as a season until now. But this? This fucking ice storm he's had to drag his ass through for three days, screaming the entire time? It's made him lose his love for anything even remotely related to temperature below freezing. He's bundled up in the jacket and other gear he'd been given, reluctant to take it off even though he's been within the city limits for awhile now. His nose is red, as are his ears. One could call him Rudolph it's such a cherry color.

Miserable wouldn't even begin to touch on Elliot's mood right now. He's tired and hungry, despite having more or less passed out in his designated igloo upon arrival and there's only one thing on his mind right now as he stomps his way through snowy streets - hot chocolate.

A warm drink of any kind would be fantastic, but something sweet and comforting is what Elliot needs to make everything feel right again. He's so desperate that when he passes by The Frosty Tap he doesn't hesitate to go in. Unfortunately for Elliot, he realizes too late it's a mix your own drink sort of deal.

So, here he is, sitting on a stool before a counter top, with a few different things before him, not knowing what to do. There's a small sniffle from him and his red nose and even though the three eyed bartender is encouraging enough...he's done. There's a loud thud that comes from his direction as his forehead meets the top of the bar, fingers curling around the edges. Why did everything have to be so shitty?!]</sub>

All I want...is hot chocolate...is that really too much to ask for?!

ARTIFICIAL INSULTS

<sub>[It's been twenty minutes since Elliot got up from a much needed nap but a bit of beauty sleep hasn't done much to curb his temper. In fact, he's basically been fighting with his bathroom mirror for the past twenty minutes, throwing insult after insult back at it. All he'd wanted to do is brush his teeth. Why...why was technology so cursed?!

Naturally, because it's Elliot, he can be heard practically a mile away, screaming. If you're unfortunate enough to be igloo neighbours well...sorry. Maybe you should go make sure he's okay?]</sub>

SHUT THE HELL UP MY NOSE ISN'T A TOMATO YOU STUPID MIRROR!

_{[Why is he like this make him stop please...]}

LOOK AT THIS PHOTOGRAPH...

<sub>[Everything about Nadril, as far as Elliot is concerned, sucks. The more exploring he does, the more things he finds to take issue with. Currently said issue is being taken with the weird robotic insects that seem to suddenly approach him and spit a slew of photographs into his face. Immediately he sputters, arms flailing, as he moves to catch a few.

He wishes he hadn't.

There's a look of horror on his face as he stares, wide-eyed and frozen to the core. What's captured in the still image is the sight of his only sister, beheaded, tumbling down a flight of stairs that have been burned into his mind. His mittened fingers begin to tremble, before the rest of him is shaking with rage. Immediately he moves to reach for one of the little robots but misses. That doesn't mean he'll give up trying, the photograph crumpled in the hand that had caught it.]</sub>

WHAT KIND OF SICK JOKE IS THIS, HUH?! HOW DARE YOU I'LL BREAK YOUR STUPID WINGS OFF!!!

WILDCARD

_{[Elliot can be found around Nadril hating his life. I'm pretty much down for anything when it comes to him so hit me up or post something here and I'll roll with it.]}

[natha]

Characters think the intended message and the earrings send the message to another set of earrings as audio. The receiving earrings can be either the intended receiver, or courtesy of a glitch, a random target. Hope this helps clear it up!

[illuminating]

Perfectly! Thank you very much!

Rocket | ota

[beatupgrass]

𝐢. 𝐨𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧

[As you enter Nadril, you may find one (1) previously grumpy procyon lotor sitting under a warm blanket with ear cuffs on his little fuzzy ears, fiddling with the wristlet and looking ecstatic. It'll be awhile before you catch him in a mood like this again.]

I can't believe this place has been here the whole time.

𝐢𝐢. 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐮𝐛

[And, of course, Rocket makes his way to Central and runs around making an overexcited fool of himself, eager to check in on everything (and maybe try to steal?? no? okay fine, but god he wants to so badly). Between exploring the place (especially the history and research facilities which are the main source of his lust- LOOK AT ALL THAT STUFF FROM HIS GALAXY), he can be found at the lounge, drinking and loudly telling the locals that they're the only ones here who know how to live.

He's having fun.]


𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝐜𝐲𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬

[Of course, there's always going to be a moment that makes Rocket regret having fun and Paws About Town is that thing. Being the next logical step in these robot pets has that effect on you. He mostly looked to avoid the place so it didn't wear down his buzz, but somebody's robot cat has decided to follow him. The second he makes eye contact with someone, his ears lower in clear irritation.]

Get this thing away from me or I'm gonna punt it.

𝐢𝐯. 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐲

[Probably the happiest Rocket has ever been (yes even with all the tech) is at the Frosty Tap, because the one thing he's been missing is a very famous drink from his galaxy. Through some experimentation, he's managed to find fairly decent equivalents of the specific alcohol types, a close cousin of a few of the other complicated ingredients, and, for some crazy reason, antimatter. Because clearly these people know how to live.

And he is making those insane cocktails for all of his friends and whoever else might want to get slapped with a fucking brick alcohol style.] It ain't quite an actual Timothy, but it's the basic idea. I'll take suggestions for names. And, hey! Make sure you sip it. You gotta approach it delicately. It's an experience.

𝐯. 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠

[At long last, Rocket has something he can actually start taking, and he's not looking for the Natha or Magda- he's looking for his own purposes. Magda's words bothered him a lot as they echoed a lot of his own concerns, but he doesn't have much he can do about it right now, other than stubbornly refuse to help anyone.

He can be found tearing things apart and stealing components or just sitting in the middle of the floor, seeing if he can actually build something useful, rather than carry all the parts home. All the while, he's humming.

If you're a fan of Glen Campbell, you might recognize it as "Southern Nights." He still doesn't know the words, but man it's catchy.]

futaba sakura | persona 5

[alibabas]

→ A WARM(?) WELCOME ( limit: 3 )

[ The sound of arguing can be heard from one of the rooms.

Mostly because apparently someone forgot to close the door — or was in the process of leaving before something stopped them. The point is, if anyone even gives the slightest bit of effort, they'll hear two voices arguing; or one voice sounding very annoyed, and a quieter voice that seems a little... distressed. Guess which one's which. ]

—let me just see— [ The other voice is a little harder to pick up, unfortunately, so after a pause... ] Look, I know you have a panel right there, lemme see your hardware! [ Someone please help the robot AI thanks. ]

→ PAWS ABOUT TOWN ( limit: 3 )

[ Considering Futaba's quest to see inside Ralf probably ended in a giant failure, she's moved on to smaller and cuter things. Mostly in the form of a robotic mouse, plugged into some kind of portable computer she's managed to grab from somewhere.

She's made herself perfectly at home on the ground ... outside. Squatting and slouched over the laptop as she furiously types — completely lost to the rest of the world. Luckily, she seems to have found a little nook by some walls that keeps her from becoming a tripping hazard, but the sight is probably a little concerning.

... If anyone takes the time to watch, the mouse eventually uses its tail to unplug itself from the computer, and scurry up to Futaba's shoulder. And only then does she straighten out, grinning— ] Hah! I knew it!

[ ... Hopefully that wasn't too loud. ]

→ PHOTOGRAPH(IC MEMORY) ( limit: 2 )

[ And then — she actually becomes a tripping hazard.

Mostly because the flash is unnaturally bright and it'd be stupid of her to take another step forward. ] What the— [ So she stays still, all not-even-5-feet of her, eyes squeezed shut until it looks like the light levels are back to normal. The photographs are already on the ground before she opens her eyes, but that doesn't stop her from picking them up, and—

Freeze in place. ( One is a picture of a disaster of a room, lit in greens and blues, books and monitors and other knick knacks piled on top of each other. Skirting the line of "livable" for anyone reasonable, really, but the lit computer screens imply that someone does stay here. A lot.

The second is the door to a small but cozy cafe situated in a quieter road, presumably on a warm, summer day. Definitely not as personal as the first one, but it makes her pause nonetheless. )

... She grows quiet, seemingly transfixed by both photos. That said, she's also kind of standing in the middle of a busy walkway, so maybe it's best if you tell her to get out of the way. ]

→ WILDCARD (ish)

( i've limited responses as i'll be out of town next week (thanks, surprise work trips), and a manageable tag load is probably important 8( sorry! if all prompts are full, hit me up privately and we can work something out!! thanks for understanding. c: )

nott the brave ( critical role ) ota

[flask]

I. ROBOPETS

[The small, mechanical creatures remind Nott distinctly of the clockwork wonders of Tinkertop Inventions. They're not nearly as intricately detailed and designed, but they also boast a far more advanced sort of technology that doesn't seem to require magic? Either way, they interest Nott, and she's in Paws About Town scanning the shelves quietly to herself, bundled up with ear cuffs on her large ears.

However, if you thought she was simply here to browse or intended on purchasing, you've got another thing coming. She glances around, and when it looks like there are no workers paying attention to her small form, she grabs a tiny ratlike pet and stuffs it in her pocket.

Only someone might have been watching, after all...]

II. HOUR OF HONOR

[The Frosty Tap Cantina is possibly the most amazing place Nott has ever been. Not only is there liquor as far as the eye can see, but she's being encouraged to stretch her alchemical abilities to create weird liquor. She watches others mix their own concoctions curiously, then mixes a few herself based on what she's learning. A spicy concoction that gives off steam and causes mild hallucinations, a swirling drink that looks almost like shifting flame in liquid form, a drink with a pulsating green glow... A lot of it comes out on complete accident, but that's part of the fun.

She's in her element. Not to mention the fact that she's sampling all of these as she goes, which means her mask is off for much of the night, unfortunately. She may offer one of her inventions to someone else to try out, as well.

She may even participate in the drink mixing contest, but she's not eager to ask a stranger to partner up with her. Maybe after she gets a few drinks in her...]

III. THE SPORT

[Very drunk at this point, Nott finds herself caught up in betting on "the sport", which she personally thinks is the vaguest name for a sport ever, but she's getting caught up in the competitive atmosphere. Besides, she's certainly a betting goblin.

She approaches a random person in the Cantina and points at the game on the screen. Congratulations, you've been accosted by a tiny and sharp-toothed goblin.]

I bet you that, um, that guy will cause a foul before the end of the game. This game has fouls, right?

[It's not even that clear which guy on the screen she's talking about.]

IV. WILDCARD

[Hit me with anything; I'll match format as well! You can look me up at erlking to plot stuff, too.]

Cheryl Blossom | Riverdale | open!

[sweetwater]

warm welcome i

[ Cheryl’s mood is much improved after arriving in Nadril, having managed a whole 60 minutes without one audible complaint. the same can’t be said for the long march through the storm, though she’d like to think her frequent complaining chatter kept people entertained and most importantly, alert and alive.

equipped with the warming technology she’s been offered, a cup of cider, and a blanket over her shoulders, Cheryl wanders the arrival area looking for a familiar (or friendly) face.

to the first person who seems like they’ll listen, she offers:]

They could at least offer some spirits for our drinks, after all we’ve been through.


mission ii

[ having settled in the best she can, Cheryl is a fairly willing participant in the mission to recover spare parts. she likes being helpful (at least, she likes the attention she receives for being helpful) and she also likes the opportunity to snoop.

Which is what she’s doing now, as she combs through living quarters. There’s useful bits and pieces to be found, pulled from consoles and stashed away tool kits. There’s a pile of everything she’s deemed worth saving on the bed, but at the moment she’s more focused on going through all the dresser drawers.

How lucky for you to be her search partner! Cheryl looks up from the drawer she’s digging through to ask:]

Find anything useful?

wildcard – let’s do the damn thing (of your choice)
You can hit me up on plurk or basically drop whatever here.

mollymauk tealeaf | ota

[mollymocked]

𝐢. 𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋

[The cold is not Molly's friend, and even with messing around in the simulation chamber or whatever, he isn't prepared for all of that bullshit. But they made it through, and he's accepted the Nadril people's generous offerings.

He's currently sitting wearing not a blanket, but a fucking huge, gaudy silver and blue tapestry with a dragon on it, over his shoulders because might as well give it some use, and looking at the wristlet with childlike glee. Once he's finished being amazed by that, he'll be trying to figure out where to put the ear cuff on his heavily pierced self. The horns? The ear? Which one is more aesthetically pleasing and also not painful...]

𝐢𝐢. 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐈𝐍'𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐄 (𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐭)

[Guess who didn't give a shit about the tiny rooms? It's Molly. He'd basically insisted the three of them share a room. It wasn't like they hadn't kinda-sorta did it before, and Molly's fine with sleeping on the floor if Caleb and Nott want the bed.

That's actually not the point. The point is Molly's coat has been insulted six ways from Sunday every time he passes the mirror, testing even his genuinely infinite patience. After the latest insult about it, he points accusingly at the mirror.]

Hey, Caleb. Go stand in front of that. I wanna see something.

𝐈𝐕. 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇.𝐌𝐏𝟒

[Molly's eyes blink away stars as the little insect flies away before he can get a better look at it, leaving him with a photograph... Which are, of course, not a thing in Exandria at all, so that's fairly confusing in itself.

What's even more confusing is the picture is of the full seven of the Mighty Nein in the Blushing Tankard tavern, all of them in various states of drunkenness proudly being declared the winners of the Hour of Honor. Huh.

Weird... Though it does bring an amused, nostalgic smile to his face. He fans himself with the picture, glancing around for the little insects before saying, to no one in particular.] This place is full of surprises.

𝐕. 𝐂𝐎𝐘𝐎𝐓𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑

[If you want to see Molly in his element, look no farther than the Frosty Tap. If he's not drinking and chatting every person he sees, then he's leaning on the bar and very, very blatantly flirting with the bartender, urging her to "surprise and baffle him" with all innuendo implied.

Once he's obtained his share of messy concoctions and gotten thoroughly soused, you can find him lounging like a lazy cat and shuffling his tarot cards. As someone passes, he slurs in a sing-song:] Care for a fortune?

Makoto Nijima - Persona 5 - OTA

[revver]

Descent

[ If it wasn't bad enough that the already confusing message cuts halfway, a new, even more confusing message pops up, and this one seems to be as unexpected for everyone else as it is for her, which doesn't bode well with Makoto at all. The fact the planet seems to be frozen all over isn't making her feel any better either. ]

I'm not even sure I wanted to come down here. There's too much I don't know yet from the station itself...

[ She found herself dragged, more or less, because even now it's difficult to just shrug off crowd mentality, but the whole ordeal is starting to feel like a little too much before even starting. Not to mention that the seeds of distrust towards they so called benefactors have been thrown her way even before she's had time to consider her own feelings about them. ]

Maybe we should've waited before coming down here.

[ Also, her butt's frozen. ]

Frozen Land

[ If there's one thing Makoto is certain, it's that with the storm and the cold there's going to be people getting lost. The faint lights that seem to guide them do help, but it's not enough. She feels like she has to do something about it, so people that get too far from the big groups will soon hear the revving of an engine as Makoto pops from the white screen that is the storm, riding a really cool motorcycle. ]

Hey, you're moving away from the group. Hop on, I'll take you back.

[ At least she has Johanna back to aid her, which is more than most people could say. ]

Just... hold yourself from the sides of the bike.

Warm (?) welcome

III.

[ Makoto can be found all over the research center, both looking at whatever record of the planet she can find and at things that might or might not remind her of home. There's what looks like a really old, broken computer, but also something that has to be a handgun, only that it looks clearly futuristic.

She's more interested in whatever shines some light into El Nysa itself though. ]

If I could make sense of any of this, I would immediately feel better.

[ Seems like it's time to sit down and peruse some old books. Holo books? And weird devices that seem to hold information.

This is going to take a while. ]

Mission

I.

[ Magda says a number of things that make Makoto all the more uncomfortable with her current situation, and that of her friends. Exactly what is she walking into here? Who's to trust and who's just trying to use them? Although she realizes that is quite likely that everyone is using them. That's not reassuring at all though. If anything, it's making her more anxious. ]

I've just arrived, but it seems like we're being pushed to pick sides without much information. Just how much can either of them, or the natives of this land can be trusted?

[ It's far from an optimal situation. Worst of all, she's pretty sure that no matter how much she thinks about it she won't be able to reach a conclusion. She needs to know more, and to do that she'll probably need to play along. That leaves only one relevant question: ]

Which is the best side to pick?

[ Anyone feel free to chime in with an answer. ]

Wildcard

[ Go nuts, I dare you double dare you triple dog dare you. Or ping me at beoluve and talk things down. I'm good either way. ]

Diva | Blood+

[colorature]

OH THE WEATHER OUTSIDE IS FRIGHTFUL...

<sub>[While everyone's seemed to be freezing themselves to death, Diva's managed to get through most of storm without too much hassle, thanks in part to the enchanted dragon scale pendant she'd been awarded by the Wyver king. So far its kept her toasty, but there's a limit to its charm and soon enough it wears off. Diva's experienced cold before, but this is something else. Her long, black hair is whipping around in the wind, sticking out from the sides of her hood and doesn't help her visibility in the slightest. Thankfully her nose works better than her eyes in a situation like this, and although her teeth are chattering, she seeks out the closest person she can.

It doesn't matter who they are, but she's going to bury her face into their back and wrap her arms around their middle, as if she were a vampiric penguin huddling for warmth.]</sub>

Nnn...

BONHOMME DE NEIGE

<sub>[It may be more of an ice city than a winter wonderland, but there's still enough snow around for Diva to get a few ideas in her head. It's been years since she's built one, but surely it can't be that hard? So far she's managed to roll a ball of snow about half the size of her, quite literally rolling herself onto it in the process.

What's she doing? Well, that should be obvious, shouldn't it? If she catches you staring she'll wave a mitten covered hand your way, her long, black hair speckled with flakes of snow.]</sub>

Hey! Do you wanna build a snowman?

SHALL WE SKATE?

<sub>[As interesting and fun as the technology can be, Diva's more interested in seeking out a more authentic, wintry experience. Having stumbled upon the fishing district she comes across what's essentially a skating rink. There aren't many people on it and in all truth she hasn't really skated very much in her life at all. This isn't a deterrent however, and once she's laced a pair of skates onto her feet she's waddling her way onto the ice. There's a sharp pang in her chest that she gets when she does step onto the ice, her mind immediately wandering to JJ and how graceful he'd always seemed on it.

Maybe he'd never let her watch him skate again after what had happened.

Quite literally giving her head a shake to get the thoughts out of it she pushes off away from the wall, wobbly and looking like a newborn fawn with the way she tries to keep her balance upright. For someone usually so graceful in their movements it's kind of comical to see her try to shuffle along, arms spread either side of her like an airplane. She'd figure it out eventually, but for now she's doing her best not to fall flat on her face...and if you startle her she just might.]</sub>

WILDCARD

_{[Diva can be found exploring much of Nadril, curious about everything there is to see and do. Whether you find her being a gremlin in the cave system or taking you up on a dare it's all good and I'll roll with it!]}

guess

[flask]

[Why is Molly taking the floor when Caleb and Nott are the hobos here. Not that Nott is complaining. She is sitting on the bed playing with a robotic rat she stole from Paws About Town, trying to figure out how to get it to do... anything, but having trouble even understanding the instructions. It's like trying to put together Ikea furniture, only very small and very outside of Nott's wheelhouse, and with a backdrop of a weird robot thing insulting Molly the whole time.

She looks up from her latest attempts when Molly addresses Caleb.]

Don't do it, Caleb. Your self esteem is low enough already.

Mai | ATLA | OTA

[maipokerface]

i. we keep this love in a photograph;
[Mai for one happily takes to the mittens and earmuffs. She has no love of the cold and escapes it eagerly after the long trek through the snow and cold that it took to get to Nadril itself.

She's not too keen on just wandering around out in the cold either but they're here to learn and Mai isn't about to slack off in that regard. She's not exactly from a technological world and would much rather get back to what bit of a life she has back in Wyver rather than play around with the technology.

She's brooding just a touch when she passes by one of the winged bots. She just takes it for some kind of insect before she can realize it's too cold here for those. And in that time there's a flash and the thing is spitting out pieces of paper at her.

No, it's not paper exactly. It's thicker, like paper used for cards or backing or such. They float to the ground and Mai has to bend to pick them up. She picks up a random one and then comes to a standstill once she's turned it over, a little wide-eyed at it.]

... What?

[She directs a sharp look up to the insect-like robot, her expression suddenly anything but pleased, only to find it's already gone.]

ii. do you dare?;
[There's the mission, yes, and Mai is more than keen to continue. It's night now though and after dealing with the bitterly cold walk, photos and everything else since Ysverai, Mai feels she deserves a few moments to forget it all.

So she's here at The Frosty Tap Cantina, a mixed drink in hand that she somehow managed to concot herself earlier, and she's actually taking part in the game of dare here. Mostly because the current dare is indeed "make someone with a poker face smile".

And here sits Mai, drink in hand and her tried and trusty apathetic expression in place.]

So? Get to it.

[Make her smile, if you dare, or maybe progress things from there.]

iii. scheme after scheme after scheme;
[Magda hadn't proved too talkative after everything he revealed and Mai is frankly too mad to stick around to see if he'll end up more talkative eventually. She paces just outside of that communication tower, her breath white against the cold even if she doesn't entirely feel it thanks to the equipment.

She glances up to whoever comes out after with a tight expression, then continues pacing back and forth as she tries to order her thoughts and her feelings into neat rows. Or at least understandable ones.]

Darma's leash. Like I wanted to be on it? Like any of us did?!

iv. wildcard;
[Feel free to throw any of the other prompts as me, from the walk here to searching for parts for Magda! If you have any questions, just shoot me a PM. c:]

amaterasu | ōkami

[illuminating]

a: pacing & glowing bright.

[ could any of them have been prepared for this? she thinks back to the virtual reality, those she stayed with, those she tried to show small methods of endurance to. this is worrying, worse. she's better suited to handle it: wooly fur packed tightly and close to her willowy frame, fur thick in abundance, the means to regulate her own body heat. not because she's a god, but because she's a wolf.

freezing to death is a bad way to go. she has no experience, but she can imagine. slowly is never a good way to go. and so all her fretting lies with the others, and at times, it might be hard to spot her, her white blending with the white of everything else. she lopes and trots with diligent purpose, chilled, but undeterred, and she knows moving will keep the cold from scathing. she goes ahead frequently to learn the path, her eyes having as much trouble as anyone else's. with everything still, there's almost nothing to listen out for other than the other refugees, and though her nose still tries to detect what's ahead, it mostly smells snow and the mingling of all the rest around her.

she's restless. if she isn't picking her paws up high, pretty and effortless, to scout beyond the trudging group, she's circling back, on the outside, trying to account for everyone the best she can. it's rare to catch her sitting, or laying. for once, she forgets to stop for food, though it's never been a necessity. delicious as it is. there are times one might feel her weight moving against their side, warm support. or, she gingerly catches a cold hand in her teeth, nibbles with care to massage and inspire warmth back to the tips of fingers. her way of holding hands without having any to claim as her own.

and often, so often, if she does come to a standstill, she's raising her head back to let her voice soar into the frigid air. haunting howls calling anyone back to her, to them, the lot of them. friend, or stranger, or acquaintance. she's tenacious in it, follow this sound. we're here, i'm here. move your legs. your strength isn't dwindling, don't even imagine it. i'm here, i'm right here. a beacon of song to also help guide those who stray back to the path. ]

b: you dance for the rain and the sun and the wind.

i. [ initially, she's a little wary of having something cuffed on her ear, but when she overhears the potential of thoughts reaching others, it seems too good to pass up. of course, of course she wants to be accessible.

simple thing, she thinks the word: ] Hello! [ sending it out to whoever's nearby. if thoughts have inflections, this one is feminine, sunlight, with a musical lilt. it's the kind of voice that might say "oh," a lot when delighted, and laugh a lot, if she could. if voices could embrace, this is the kind of voice she has, even tickling through ears out of an earring. she can't contain herself, her tail whipping in the air, and in succession, she sends out more messages to anyone near her in the vicinity: ]

Hello, hello, hello, hello!

ii. [ remember when meli said she could just sleep outdoors? well, even wolves have dens to stow away into in climates and tundras like this.

considering she hardly let herself rest for the trek to make it here, any single person can a hundred percent expect to catch her sleeping in their bed. either fully stretched out long, all five feet and two inches plus tail of her. legs dangling over the side. or head hanging off it, upside down. perhaps she's drooling on a pillow. sometimes her paws go in dreams, whiskers twitching, or an ear, her rumbling whines in disagreement with some unseen and unreal thing. she may even be curled up compactly.

getting her to budge won't be easy. she either stubbornly ignores whoever tries to wake her, or she'll heave her head up to slit her eyes, weighted in sleep, at them, groan her disapproval long and deeply, and then slowly put her chin over her paws and be out like she wasn't even disturbed to begin with.

with enough persistence, or even conversation, though, she will make more effort to awaken and visit with them. ]

iv. [ the first time she passes one the bug-like bots, the unsettling flash startles her enough into a growl, and her fur is still on end when the photos are scattering like falling leaves around her. cautiously, she goes to look once they've landed.

one photograph displays golden plains, with motes of light, a river bed that looks like a milky way. sitting in the tall shimmery grass is what appears to be angels: they're in white robes, their hair is lightly colored, but the wings protrude long, proud, and white from their heads. there's at least four, but more fly in the background, and they're smiling. at the center, a little behind the small focal group, appearing to be holding the hands of two, a couple of their faces frozen in laughter, is a womanly figure composed of nothing but light. it shapes four wings from what might be her head, like sunbeams, like a crown. even frozen in place like this, she has an undeniable presence, but she has no face, no certain features, she's as if sunlight had morphed itself the best it could into some form, though prone as it is to spreading, it's having a difficult time keeping her in one place.

this is her home. these are some of the first children she brought into existence. she's in this photo, too, but not as she is presently, staring down at it, unable to remove her eyes, all hushed and still.

within another stands a one-inch man, green light glowing around him. and upon closer inspection, it becomes obvious he's standing on a certain white muzzle, the black of her nose just beyond him. the scenery of cherry blossoms and villagers lying even further.

there's one of her walking the back of a long dragon, like a bridge. one of her peering into the sea to be greeted by a purple orca. another one shows her at the mossy bank of a dense forest, sitting with a boy fishing, without a line of all things, in a moonless body of water.

even for her, this is too much. her distant staring eventually gives to the quietest whimpers, and she nudges the photos along the ground, aimless. uncertain what she wants to do. she doesn't want to crush her teeth against them, and soon enough, her elbows bend to let her drop unceremoniously near the pile where she lays her head over them, as if intent on absorbing them. the impossible. ]

c: wildcard.

(i got a little worried about doing too much, so while there's still more prompts, i'll be finding other top-levels relating to them to see about tagging into! however, if nothing here suits your tastes, please, please come at me with anything. if you want to discuss anything first, you can pm me!)

look at this photograph, every time i do i makes me... cry?

[revver]

[ She might be a tripping hazard, but Makoto manages to avoid impacting into her all the same, albeit barely. She's also gotten her flash and couple of pictures, which have managed to get her rather flustered. It's fortunate that the pictures themselves have made her even more eager to see her friends though, as that's what helped her notice the smaller girl before she body checked her into orbit.

Instead, Makoto places a hand softly on one of Futaba's shoulder. She looks rattled too, but also making her best effort to be the reliable older person here. ]

Hey. Maybe we should move somewhere a bit quieter, don't you think? I can get you something to drink, too.

[ She doesn't move though; Futaba has to take the first step. ]

Fergus Fraser // Outlander

[claudel]

[i. A WARM WELCOME pt 1 (hover over text for translation)]

[ By the time they arrive at Nadril, Fergus is numb - physically and mentally. It's been a lot to process and the cold journey hadn't given any of them much time to think about anything other than just make it there alive. He doesn't even hesitate when he's offered strange bracelets and jewelry amidst the steaming cup of cider.

All he knows is that, once he has them, he feels an instant sensation of warm relief start to thaw out his frozen extremities.

As Fergus starts to warm up, he looks around at the other refugees.

C'est putain froid, he thinks. J'ai besoin d'une personne ou deux qui peux me faire plus chaud.

He's entirely unaware that the thought has someone made its way to you. ]


[ii. A WARM WELCOME pt 2]

[ The AI in the small rooms spooks Fergus. While he was introduced to it on the station, it's somehow unexpected. It startles him every time the voice comes on.

But it's helpful. Eerie, but helpful. Ralf seems more than happy to answer Fergus' questions when he has them, and he appreciates the helpful reminders. Or he does until the AI gets sassy with him when he decides to take a nap.

Anyone walking by might hear the two voices arguing. ]


[iii. THE FROST TAP CANTINA]

[ Now this, at least, is familiar. A bar is certainly well deserved, and Fergus is more than ready to find a seat and order a local ale and then a wine and then maybe more ale. The alcohol has its own warming effect while Fergus enjoys just getting to know people in a more leisurely setting.

He doesn't mind putting his two cents into other conversations, or laughing at jokes nearby and telling his own. And if you dare him? Well. He's going to slam back his drink and prove to you that he's not afraid to do it. ]


[iv. WILDCARD]

Choose your own adventure or hit me up at fritzwinky for a personalized top level.

Theon Greyjoy | A Song of Ice and Fire/GoT

[reek]

1. I’m not going to be the one to make the reference

[ The last time Theon saw Winterfell, it had been buried beneath snowstorm just like this. It was a storm that ground armies to a halt and left even Roose Bolton feeling uneasy. The snows had piled to a height of forty feel against the castle’s outer walls—enough to soften the fall of two people attempting to escape a terrible fate.

He grew up in the cold and the snow. He’s grown thinner since then, and weaker, but the wind ripping at his white hair doesn’t seem to faze him. It’s a bitter cold, but he would rather be numb than in pain. The only trouble with snow and ice is that he’s forgotten how difficult it is to walk through when you have a limp. He’s unbearably slow at times, and it seems to be frustrating even to him. He seems as though he would like to let out long stream of swears right now, but he doesn’t. He’s restrained, silent, and speaks to no one unless spoken to. ]

2. That's when the insults start to sting

[ He dislikes the AI. It makes him jump every time it speaks, and he doesn’t like the idea of being watched by something he can’t see. He tries so hard not to look at his reflection at all these days. He knows he doesn’t look fantastic. Broken teeth, flayed fingers and skeletal features are becoming on no one, but most people keep their opinions to themselves, even if he can see the pity and disgust in their eyes.

What happened to you?, he hears a voice ask for somewhere in the room. He steels himself against it. ]

I—

[Have you been eating ice to get your teeth that way? You should be eating actual food. ]

No. I know.

[ You look like you’ve made a lot of bad decisions. ]

I have.


3. All I’ve got is a photograph

[ He once wandered the half-ruined towers and battlements of Winterfell to clear his mind. Now he’s decided to do the same in Nadril. It isn’t familiar to him, it isn’t home, but the cold weather helps, and few people bother him. Eventually, he finds himself on the outskirts of the central hub, dotted by strange creatures.

He foolishly thinks he’s been struck by lightning when they begin to flash, and he flinches in anticipation, but there’s no pain. There’s only a series of pictures. He creeps closer to gather them up, and he frowns deeply.

He holds three photographs. One depicts a rocky beach, wind-whipped and stormy with high cliffs. Two young men and a young girl, all who look remarkably like Theon once did, dark haired and smiling, are featured. The second features a snow-covered wood, along with an entire slew of children who look nothing like Theon. The Stark family, Jon Snow included, all younger and happier than they would be now. The last is the darkest, in lighting, in mood, and in memory. It’s a large kennel, with a straw bed in the corner and a pack of hungry-looking dogs scattered throughout. There are nine of them, and he can still name all of them, though he wishes he couldn’t.

His homes. All three of them. He doesn’t look happy to see them, and he doesn't seem as though he'll be moving any time soon. ]


4. Fishing, finally something he’s good at

[ It was Dagmer Cleftjaw who taught Theon how to fish before he left home. Fishermen are honored on the Iron Islands, held in almost equal esteem as captains. Of course, that had been sea fishing, and although ice fishing is a different game altogether, Theon takes to it surprisingly quickly.

He smirks each time he pulls up another fish, grateful that he needs neither all of his fingers nor all of his strength for this particular activity. The people here in this area of Nadril don’t mind his rough appearance. They remind him in some ways of the Ironborn, without the culture that he’s been split from for half his life. He doesn’t need to force himself to fit in with them, because he was never one of them to begin with.

It’s nice, really. He might be the happiest he’s been since he returned from stasis a few months back. ]

I haven't done this since I was a boy.

[ He smirks even still as he recasts his line. ]

I thought I might have forgotten how.

5. Wildcard

[ Hit me with your best shot. Surprise me or find me at muttonchops ]

Ren Suzugamori | Cardfight!! Vanguard G

[thedarkbond]

[A: Entering Nadril]

[It's a long while into the recovery process within Nadril's walls before Ren is interested in interacting with anyone else. He's keeping his head up here, and accepting any offered assistance from the locals with a standard courteous air, but it's difficult to conceal the mood of something weighing down on him as he sips at his cider and lets himself slowly warm up. There's a shiver in his limbs that isn't born of cold and isn't letting up all that much even as he sits here - it's the bone-deep exhaustion of someone who just went through something of the likes they've never been exposed to before.

He's never been particularly physically able, but it's never been that relevant in his world. And yet in this one, in circumstances like this, there's a very real chance it could kill him if he leaves it like that.

It's...unfortunate, but something he'll probably have to set aside for later. It doesn't seem he was wrong in his judgement that they've awakened at a pivotal time, and that's a satisfying enough thought for now that he finally sets his drink aside to give a somewhat exaggerated stretch and flop backwards onto his seat, fiddling with the ear cuffs he'd been given.]

I hope it was worth the trip, but at this rate I'll be asleep the whole time we're here... [There's something of a pouty tone to his voice that's a bit at odds with the earlier gravity of his mood.]

--

[B: Images of Home]

[After a bit of welcome rest, Ren's curiosity gets the better of him, and he ventures out into the city to investigate what exactly it is they're dealing with here. Advanced technology is something he's unlikely to ever stop sticking his nose into, so the bugs hovering above the walkways quickly catch his attention - which, however unfortunately, also leaves him quite open to the bright flash of light when it comes.

Once he's rubbed the spots out of his vision, one of the bugs is already spitting a handful of photos at him, and Ren laughs a little as he manages to catch them out of the air.] I don't think you're going to get very good photos like--

[He makes the mistake of looking at the topmost photo on the stack, and stops abruptly. The image is of two men - one with side-spiked brown hair and a toned-down manner of dress who looks Ren's age, and a slightly younger one with blue hair that trails down to one side in front of his face - at what appears to be an evening party. The brunet seems to be in the middle of barbecuing up a storm, an unnecessarily intense look in his green eyes, while the other man watches on with an excitable, almost rapt expression on his face.

Ren's fingers have clenched tightly against the edges of the photo, but more noticeable is the downward twist to his mouth, subtle but borderlining venomous at the confrontation. He really isn't fond of being blindsided like this...

Of course, he corrects himself if someone else comes near, shoving the photos into his pocket with seeming carelessness and reigniting some vapid-sounding cheer into his voice as he flicks at one of the bug's wings.] It's a cute design for a robot, isn't it~?

--

[C: Dare or...Dare...?]

[Games, and especially games with high stakes, are much more Ren's speed, and though he's not as into the drinking buddies aspect of the tavern as some of his friends might have been, he's at least nursing a small glass as he observes dares being exchanged from the side of the bar. There's a curious, almost intent look in his eye, a sharp awareness of the potential for an entertaining challenge that stands at odds with the unaware obliviousness he's been trying to put off most of the time.

As an earlier dare-receiver stumbles back in from the frost, bright red and shivering yet clearly victorious, Ren gives a quiet laugh over his glass as he takes another sip.]

It's a shame there's not more of those kinds in here... [People taking their shirts off is interesting for about two seconds, but he'd much prefer some of those show of strength dares somewhere he doesn't have to freeze himself half to death to watch...]

--

[D: Spare Parts]

[Ren hasn't been in this place long enough to lay stakes for a side - he likes to actually know what he's doing that for before he makes any kind of decision. But the Natha saved some number of his friends, and he owes them for that more than he owes anything to Magda. As tempting as the prospect of information is, others will more than likely comb it out of the Nadril in their time here. He can pick up the whispers of it later on, but for now...if Thesa Station falls, so does anyone he has there, and that's far more important to him than a boring stirring of rebellion.

He's had very little choice but to be cautious in doing this, though, given how the trek here had been. He's taking advantage of the equipment provided by both the Natha and the Nadril to keep himself warm, though it's not going to stop the snow from blocking up exits or the roof from falling in if it wants to. For now, his main worry is his unfamiliarity with the technology as he crouches down to inspect another likely-looking but completely unidentifiable part of the ship.]

Hmm, I guess this looks important... [He's just going to wave down the nearest person who happens to be investigating at the same time, an oblivious curiosity in his tone.] Have you seen this before?

--

[E: Wildcard]

[[Ren will be only too happy to stick his nose into the various technologies of Nadril, so he can likely be found at Paws About Town, Central, the research and history facility, or the inn as well! Or feel free to contact me for other plans.]]

v

[flask]

[Nott eventually makes her way to the crashed ship, mostly out of curiosity. She feels a bit naked without her crossbow, but she's sneaky enough to scamper off without being noticed if she just does a quick dip in and out.

Of course, as she's skulking through the shadows, she hears a hum and looks for the source. It's the first fresh animal she's seen since she woke up, and she's excited for a moment... until she realizes she traded her crossbow for her flask. Fuck. Okay, maybe she can still figure out a way to kill it with some of the broken materials around here.

As she considers this, watching the raccoon closely, she realizes it's... not just gathering parts at random, but actually assembling them.

It's just then that her ear cuffs decide now is a great time to project her thoughts in a message to the raccoon guy.]

Holy shit the food is trying to build something.

[She does not realize this has happened.]

[breadmuffs]

[No you know what, it's fine that Molly is sleeping on the floor. Caleb is very much Unsure about having to share his personal space just with the tiefling and Nott. It was different when it was all of them in room together. This is weirder. But he doesn't actually argue.

He's been half-listening to the mirror insult Molly for a while now, sitting on the other side of the bed from where Nott is but splitting his attention between one of his books and her...tinkering.

When Molly insists that he get in front of the mirror and then Nott tells him not to...Caleb tilts his head to the side a little.]

Well, I don't think it will be anything I haven't heard already.

[He knows how he looks! And Jester takes many opportunities to call him stinky. He is what he is. Still, he doesn't actually get up yet. His masochism is not that strong. To Molly:]

Do you think it won't insult me too?

paws about town

[flask]

[Nott watches this random person do... something to their mouse, as her own rat (that she lovingly stole) remains firmly motionless in her little hands. She's got her mask firmly placed on her face, her hood down low, and thankfully the girl seems more intent on whatever she's doing than noticing Nott staring at her, a little jealous that she apparently knows what she's doing with these weird robot things.

Then the mouse starts moving on its own, and Nott jumps when the girl yells out in triumph.

She'll probably regret this, but she approaches the girl with her mechanical rat held in her hands.]

What did you do to make it do that? Mine won't move at all.