thisavrou_ooc

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ABOARD THE MOIRA

Whether adjusting to space travel has been difficult or not, there is always something to be done. From working to leisure, the Moira offers a multitude of opportunities to get to know your crewmates a bit better. Exploration of the ship is highly encouraged, but as another planet grows closer to being docked, things start to get a little hectic. You'll notice a slight change in the artificial gravity as the Moira is pulled into a gravitational field; however, more noticeable changes can be found in the overall morale as you prepare to descend.

☄ on your own
There are plenty of other communal areas on the ship to explore! Pick a place, and see where it takes you. ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. )

☄ round 'em up
The day begins normally. You check out the mess hall and report to your assigned job, and so far, nothing seems incredibly out of place. However, as the hours pass, you begin to notice something strange scurrying along wall edges and into open vents. For the most part, these rodents are harmless—in this stage. While they may get into the food supply in the Cargo Bay or terrorize those in the kitchen, they are not violent and appear to be skittish. However, once they've "matured" - the color of their tail will have changed from a light gray to a very dark purple, prompting them to enter a temporary stasis inside a cocoon - they aren't so cute anymore. These paklers are vicious, will bite if they're caught, and defend themselves with claws as well as the protrusions on their bodies. There is nothing to be done about them except capture them and eject them into space as they are considered a pest and very harmful to the crew and the ship. Once they run out of food, they will turn on each other as well as anything resembling a living creature. The captains provide the proper equipment, electric nets as well as tranquilizers, to assist with the capture of the paklers and their immediate removal from the Moira.

☄ what's yours is mine
Something seems a bit off about the laundry delivery service these days, doesn't it? Has the Moira always had one of those? Whether you realize it immediately or not, something is very wrong about the clothes that have suddenly appeared in your wardrobe. They are either much too big or far too small, and as far as you can tell, there seems to be no happy medium in all of this. Will you Dress To Impress in your new uniforms? Will you swap with someone who might be a similar size regardless of the fact their uniform colors are not the same as your own? Or will you simply walk naked through the halls of the ship, carefree and bare to the rest of your crewmates?

☄ n'sync
While exploring the ship, first down one hall and then another, you come across a strange door you've never seen before. When you pull it open, you'll find someone, a crew member, standing on the other side, hand outstretched as if they've just opened that door from the opposite side. Every move you make, they mirror, and if they shift to the left or right, you also shift left or right. Absolutely everything the both of you do is the same except for the words that come out of your mouth; somehow, you still manage to maintain the ability to talk without mimicking your partner. You're unable to completely control your movements again until someone says "in sync". Good luck figuring out the magic words, and if you decide to question the captains (or anyone else) about it, they won't have any idea what it is you're talking about.

OUT OF CHARACTER INFO

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For mature or graphic content, please label. For questions, please direct them to the FAQ. As always, be kind and have fun!

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[He steps back for a moment, not entirely comfortable with the speed he's being approached at, but eventually, reluctantly holds his hand out.]

It's not that bad.

[He's had worse, and the job isn't finished yet, and he can't quite escape the nagging feeling there'll be worse pain if it's not finished soon. Some things are hard to escape.

...And besides, he's not sure he trusts whoever she is- even if she is kind of pretty.]

[~~Trust her, she's pretty, that never goes bad ever.~~]

[Elizabeth gives him a smile, heaped with friendly skepticism, as she takes his hand and looks it over. It really isn't so bad, these things are vicious but still small, but she's not one to have patience with male posturing over injury.]

Good news: I'm ninety-five percent certain you'll live. [Still, best to stop the bleeding. She lays the handkerchief, embroidered with the seal of the Barrayaran Imperial Service, over the cut and applies some pressure.]

[He doesn't really notice the seal until it's too late, a little too caught up in the smiling- but when he does, his face goes from almost neutral to angrier.

Of course no-one would help him. It's always Miles.

He snatches his hand back with a mangled curse, glaring.]

You think I'm him, don't you?

[Elizabeth pulls her hands back in shock. What the hell is he so angry about? She stares at him for a beat, hands held up defensively, trying to parse what he's talking about. Sometimes it's hard with Miles...]

Him who?

[...is she going to have to call Ivan because Miles thinks she's somebody else again? God she hopes she's not going to have to call Ivan again.]

...have you not been sleeping again?

You think I'm Miles.

[He spits the word out. It's easier, being angry, when he has nothing else to fall back on. No plan, nothing to work for, not even the comfort of anonymity.]

I'm M- not.

[He'd nearly given her the name that's been rattling round his head since Miles threw it at him, an unwelcome and unasked for gift and curse all at once. He cuts it off, though, substituting something else.]

[Shit...]

[Elizabeth's face falls, worried and anxious. How many times is this going to happen before Miles does something to fix the problem? Fortunately, before she has to respond in some neutral-but-placating way, her MID beeps. It's just a mass notice someone's put out, but Elizabeth uses it.]

Sorry, just a second-- [She swipes the notification away and pulls up the messaging again, turning away and muttering:]

Ivan, he's doing it again. We're in one of the halls by the main hallway, he seems pretty alert this time though--

I can hear you, and I'm not crazy.

[He scowls. Ivan as well? That probably isn't going to go down well when she works out who this is- depending on how much anyone's told her. How much Miles has been able to keep his mouth shut.]

Didn't anyone tell you Miles isn't the only person with this face?

[It's a convoluted way of putting it, yes, but he'd rather avoid the word clone- and he's certainly not using brother, no matter what Miles' opinion on the matter is. They're not.]

[Elizabeth turns back around, giving him a quizzical, uncertain look. But then the other shoe drops and she remembers something Ivan mentioned to her at the bar on Arelle--]

...Are you Mark?

Yes. No. ...That's what he called me, anyway.

[He folds his arms across his chest, defensive. It's... complicated, and he supposes as names go, it's not all that terrible, but it's something else he didn't get to choose, another set of expectations he doesn't want.]

What did they tell you?

[Yes-No? Well now Elizabeth doesn't know what to call him but, they'll get to that later--]

Ivan said you were Miles' clone, which is apparently quite true. And he said you'd rather not have anything to do with their family despite Miles' overtones and insistence.

Insistence. That's a polite way of putting it. He won't leave me alone.

[He's had to hide himself three times in two years, full deep cover, and he's a little tired of it, really. Can't people just stop trying to make him be someone he isn't?]

I'm a copy, yes. They didn't tell you anything else? Not why I was made, or anything like that?

That does sound like Miles. [She admits with an uneasy chuckle. He did have a habit of getting after something and not leaving it alone, from what Ivan's told her and from their conversation about her abilities. And from his insistence at wandering around the ship delirious until someone drugged him, or hexed him, or shot him......]

Ah, no. It was a... [Date setting. But that sounds weird.] Delicate scenario.

I don't get why this is such a big deal to him. I'm not anything he had a hand in.

[A little of the anger drains off him, leaving him just tired, aware his hand is actually stinging a little. He takes a deep breath, trying to stand a little straighter, ignoring the pain.

And really, it isn't her fault Miles is... Miles, and she did try to be a little nice. He stoops for a moment, picking up the handkerchief, holding it out. He should probably say something about sorry, but... he's not sure how.]

Delicate, right. Just- I'm not Miles, okay. I wish there was an easier way to make it obvious.

[He's not even asking about "delicate situations".]

I couldn't say why, to be honest with you. Miles didn't mention you to me, and while he does seem very dedicated to the family he has here, I don't know the kind of history you two have. Maybe it's the principle of the thing...?

[She has no idea. She's just throwing out ideas here.]

I understand, I'm sorry I mistook you for him I, uh, should have looked at your uniform more closely. [She holds out her hand.] I'm Elizabeth DeWitt. It's nice to meet you. [This seems like the right gesture-- start over, he's an individual, after all. Pretending like she already knew him is ludicrous.]

...Kind of a bad one. Ask someone else. Not Ivan, he doesn't like me very much.

[Oddly, if he trusts any of the people he knows are here, it's the emperor of Barrayar, but he's not about to say that. Or admit Ivan maybe has reason to not be entirely fond of him.

He looks at the hand for a moment before realising what it's for, hastily reaching over to shake it. He's never actually had to do anything like this, and he isn't entirely sure when to let go, either. He risks too short, rather than too long, though.]

...You can call me Mark, it's okay. I- it's nice to meet you too?

[Ooh. That's a loaded request, not asking Ivan. Elizabeth spends the most amount of time with him, probably, not talking to him about Mark is going to be very difficult.]

[She's probably going to do it anyway. But she'd ask someone more neutral too, maybe. Like Gregor. Still, it's not off-putting, being told Ivan doesn't like Miles' clone. There could be any number of reasons.]

[The handshake being brief is a bit of a surprise, but she rolls with it.] Alright, if you're okay with being called that, I'll call you Mark. [She nods, then gestures to the cut still on Mark's hand.] Do you still want me to look at your hand, then...?

More to the point, if you're going to ask about me, I'm pretty sure they only know me as Mark.

[He manages to sound a little dry about it, not really amused but aware of the potential for humour in the situation.

After a few moments, he holds his hand out again. He's still not used to people wanting to help, but... well, he can't exactly say no.]

Yes. Uh, please.

[He can remember manners sometimes.]

[She smiles briefly at him before resuming wrapping the cut in the handkerchief and putting pressure on it.] It doesn't look too bad, but considering these are alien rats I think going to the medical bay wouldn't go amiss. Did you know the way there?

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