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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 ownThere 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. ) H A I S T O SUnlike previously visited locations, the sweltering heat of this planet can be felt long before arrival. The surface of Haistos is not a place for those with a weak constitution. It’s in a constant state of low-level volcanic activity as its land masses are dotted with many volcanoes—all of them spewing black ash into the air. Breathing is difficult without the aid of a respirator due to the potential of breathing in ash, and the plant life is stunted, adapted to living in an environment with little sunlight. The weather is unpredictable, and ash-storms will often blow in fiercely, leaving people trapped for a hours at a time before they blow themselves out. But that same ash which chokes everything on this planet is what also provides its livelihood. Haistos’ volcanic resources are a highly sought-after commodity elsewhere in the universe, and as long as gathering the ash is profitable, people will continue to return.
Looking closely, etched into the curling paths of ignimbrite deposits that swirl along the base of the volcanoes is a language that is easily translated by the MID, often resembling Latin. Carved over time by visitors and travelers, it tells a tale of fire and stone and power. Some might even say there are mystic abilities associated with these volcanoes, though the rumors and myths behind it seem to be nothing but a warning to those who think to go looking for it. It’s also hard to tell if the words carry any true meaning since there are no natives to question, and all those who harvest the ash can only tell stories. Still, it’s apparent that people from many different times have all added to the scrolling messages.
A word of caution: you cannot build here. Stone, metal, and wood all burn, all crumble. Only what is true can survive, and fire will show its true quality.
☄ breathing sparksDespite the haphazard lay of the land, there are things to do. Or, at least, things to see. The rocky terrain often leads to some inactive volcanoes that are perfect for exploring and harvesting the ash that continues to rain down across Haistos. There are step-like structures built into the sides of the volcanic craters, narrow but sturdy. With each move down, the air gets even thicker, and your respirator takes longer and longer to filter the unbreathable atmosphere the deeper into the planet you travel. Yet, the risk of asphyxiation is worth what awaits at the bottom of the staircase. Still warm, the volcanic rocks that are sunk into the deposits are both smooth and clear as crystal. Most of these gems retain heat permanently and can be used to warm small spaces. Gathering too many together in a single place, however, creates a reaction with the limited air supply and can spark a faux volcanic eruption—yes, these rocks are capable of producing lava at an impossibly quick rate.
Is it possible to outrun the flow and reach the steps before it begins filling the bottom of the crater? The only thing worse than a sudden swimming pool of lava would be the respirator finally breaking because of the abrupt, extreme heat, wouldn’t it? ☄ under pressureDespite being unable to actually build any structures of substance on Haistos, walking around the planet itself is surprisingly easy. Due to its unusual composition, the ground itself is a noticeable mixture of dark rock and shining surfaces. More than that, each step around the bases of the volcanoes reveals something both amazing and rather fascinating: the ability to create diamonds without much pressure at all. It only takes a single step or even a hand print. Take a break and sit to rest? Diamonds. Wrestling over what pile of ash is yours to claim? Diamonds. Tripping and falling and refusing to get up so that no one sees your embarrassment? Diamonds. Suddenly, moving around on Haistos has taken a whole new turn. Especially when it’s completely possible to keep what you make with your very own body weight. ☄ if you break it, you buy itOut of the eater came something to eat, and out of the strong came something sweet.
At the base of one of the smaller volcanoes, this message is carved into the rock in large, curling script. The volcano is currently inactive and is dotted with openings large enough for visitors to enter through. Stranger than the message is the faint tinkling sound - almost like glass clinking against glass - that grows louder the deeper into the volcano you go. The intricate honeycomb of paths all lead in the same direction—towards the sound and a mellow blue glow.
At the center, the sound is loud and the light illuminates a large space. Thousands of crystalline creatures swirl and bump against one another, the source of both the sound and light. They appear to be a cross between a lightning bug and bee, glowing and noisy and harmless. The beautiful sight may, or may not, be dampened by the fact that the cavern is littered with glass honeycombs that have been built up within the bodies of fallen travelers. It’s clear that the organisms didn’t harm them, perhaps the result of too much ash or broken respirators, and the honey they’ve produced is light blue and clear. It’s sweet if eaten, bright and citrus-y, and carries an earthy undertone, making the skin glow temporarily after ingesting.
If careful, visitors may harvest the honey, but do not disturb the creatures. Their wings are sharp, and when agitated, they swarm out of fear.
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thisavrou_ooc2016-06-07 03:39 pm
alan varren (alva) / original
( i ) THE MOIRA: medbay
[ From one lab to the next. This is the first thought Alva has when he's ushered to the Moira's medbay, and he falls into step and rhythm with the lab staff's actions in a sort of daze. He's cooperative, almost docile; there's a ringing in his ears that's probably symptomatic of something, he hasn't done space travel in his life. They ask him - ask him - to take his shirt off, to inspect where he's bleeding down his side from Gloriana's security had seen who he was a second too late and fired at him.
They didn't fire a second time, a cold horror present on their faces when he'd turned to spare them a look, and Alva smiles at the memory in spite of himself. They'd never kill him; they know he's supposed to be valuable, and in their arrogance they had let him figure out just how valuable he is in the seven years he's been kept at Gloriana. Screw those guys, he thinks to himself. Gloriana will likely have them killed, when they realize he's missing; he can't find it in him to feel too terribly.
The physician attending to his wound is tutting at him - Alva looks down and remembers, oh yeah, I heal quickly. The wounds from where the bullets had grazed him are already scabbing; very soon the skin will be smooth and pink again, and he apologizes to the physician for the unnecessary work.
And then someone prods on of the ports lined up along his spine, and Alva strikes out on reflex. ]
Don't— don't touch it. Just leave it alone.
( ii ) THE MOIRA: milling about
[ He has his doubts about temporary, when they present him with the contract and the sales pitch - it will always sound like a sales pitch, no matter how it's dressed, no matter where he goes - but Alva signs anyway. They even use his real name on the form: Alan Varren. Alva doesn't mention that he prefers not to answer to that name these days, and signs the contract. It feels a little less... eventful than he'd expected. (Space is the final frontier, isn't it?)
They give him a shirt that is probably two sizes too small, and the cloth scratches over the ports on his back, but the staff aboard this ship give him his damaged clothes back as an option and Alva decides to keep the hideous beige coat he was wearing, with its blood stains and burn marks and all. The sleeves reach up to his knuckles, hiding his MID from sight. He leaves the rest behind, doesn't feel a need to keep them, and with temperature in the ship being higher than what he's used to back in the compound, he folds the coat over an arm and ventures out into the halls with the coat bundled an arm. Immediately he feels paranoid, knowing the ports on his back are pushing out visibly, but there aren't too many people around yet.
It's while he's standing in the middle of the hallway, scanning the ceiling for any cameras, that he realizes something — he's hungry, and thirsty, and a little nauseated. They'd given him some water at the lab, but in hindsight it likely wasn't enough. ]
Excuse me— sorry, I don't want to be a bother. Where can I find a tap? For water, I mean. I'm pretty sure I'm dehydrated.
( ii ) THE MOIRA: wildcard
[ Hit me with a prompt. For IC reasons Alva would not want to leave the ship just yet, so Haistos prompts wouldn't work for him, but he's otherwise open to anything else. ]
i, spine ports: a space opera
at least, not until he hears that voice, and it's with the kind of dad-tone Andyr just knows as that freaking loser Alvary. he's snapped up from his chair, shouldering past several people (who aren't terribly happy about being shoved around, but who fucking cares about them honestly), and making it over to Alva just in time to see him nearly slap a lab tech through a wall. Well, they'd tried to prod at the ports, and that's about the least okay thing you can possibly do to any of them.
shuffling becomes long strides, and before anyone can say "i'm sorry, sir", Andyr is in the lab tech's face, practically baring teeth at them. words don't really need saying - get the fuck away from his back, thanks. once the tech's shuffled away, Andyr turns back to squint down at the ports in question, a hand on Alva's shoulder to urge him to arch forward a bit, enough that they're in the light and Andyr can make sure nothing's been messed up with them. idiot techs poking and prodding at stuff they aren't familiar with. ]
They look fine. You're good, Alva. [ There's a squeeze to his shoulder, something comforting, as he knows just how traumatizing it is just feeling those rings of metal at your back as you stretch, remembering that they're there at all and the process it took to install them. Alva's been like a brother to him, hell, like a freaking father, with the gap that'd been left there and all the talk of Marya, and seeing him here is an instant flood of relief, dissipating all the wound up tension. And this one, he knows, is Alva. Iterations don't get ports. Not like his, at least. ] You okay? Did they do anything to you?
(lazerhawk plays on in the bg)
How easily his body remembers what hands on one's shoulder meant. Sorry, he tries to communicate to Andyr with a wet, desperate laugh. I'm still back there. Back at the compound, where he's been shot, where he'd locked the doors to the service rooms and the galleries and rigged them with handmade explosives he only had small hopes of working. It took them a year, for the plan to work. A year of hiding messages in slips of paper, tucked into the hardcover book jackets, with short messages and schematics that would spell out a mass bombing of three Houses.
Alva knows Hapsburg was successfully bombed; he'd seen the explosions from his window up in the labs. He knows he'd dragged Miray out, with her swollen belly; he knows she's in safe hands after he'd led her out to friends from back home, back in Alaska, because if someone deserved a chance at a normal life then let it be the girl who's bringing a child into the world.
He hisses through his teeth, trying to steady his breathing. You can handle this, he reminds himself. You can do this. ]
Nothing I didn't agree to, [ he replies, then rethinks his answer. Given his history, he didn't want to cause any alarm. ] Routine physical. I'm fine, I swear.
How did you— [ How did you get here? ]
synth trash alva, also retconning that about him not having his physical yet bc adrien did it ayyy
he doesn't stay there long either way, moving around to alvary's front, hands finding his face to tilt it up and squint at him a bit, turning his head one way and the other. his own quick assessment that Alva's actually doing fine and not just being a butt about it. ]
Yeah, well. You agree to stupid things. [ andyr mutters distractedly, before he finds he's satisfied with this state of alva, and finishes off by squishing his cheeks together between his palms, comically. for a brief moment, his hands drop to his sides, and he's watching alva with his head tilted and a small smirk on his lips, still dressed in the bloodstained detainment pajamas he's put in at hapsburg, and the jacket he'd stolen off a guard's body, albeit with thermals now underneath.
he'd been worried he was here alone. worried what was happening back home, with the raid, with him gone. worried alva wouldn't make it out. but here he is, his best friend's alive and well, and the relief of it has andyr lunging forward a bit to hug the man around his stupidly huge shoulders. for a moment or two, with a tight squeeze, just to tell him he's grateful for it. because those aren't words Andyr says easily. pulling back, he reaches out for the discarded shirt and flops it unceremoniously over Alvary's shoulder. ]
But you're wrong about that. There's nothing routine going on here. [ something sly, and a bit excited, is showing in the sharp curve of his grin, and his head jerk a motion towards the lab doors. ] Get dressed before your nipples freeze off. There's something you need to see.
[ and he'll be stopping to tell a lab tech "i'll bring him back, i promise", as he makes his way towards the exit. ]
i.
He was fast enough to see blood - although with the amount on the man's shirt, Reinhard doesn't really understand how that adds up to the marks he sees on this man's skin. Weird.
It's easier to focus on this other person than on the feeling going on in his own head. Too many fuzzy memories of stark clean medical facilities, of someone prodding at him, memories his mind is trying simultaneously to repress and uncover. Some part of him is always at war with itself, it seems, but Reinhard manages to keep that under the surface for now.
At the man's outburst, Reinhard actually laughs. ]
What makes you think they give a shit what you want? [ Even with the translator, Reinhard's English is accented - mostly because he's trying to speak it, more used to using that with strangers now than his native tongue after two years in America. Still, it's not difficult to understand him. ]
no subject
Life in Gloriana wasn't good. For a good long time he wasn't even allowed access to books, despite the work he'd been put to. Glory had put him in the labs as a lowly technician, but treated him no better than the rats that scampered around in their little glass cases, gnawing on their tails because they were so underfed.
Alva wonders if he'd just traded one cage for another. ]
Isn't that common decency? [ He replies to the man who had been so quiet just moments before. ] To care about the person on your table, if you're a doctor?
ii with a side of i ... because I do what I want
Perhaps not particularly well but that wasn't for Adrien to say. Aloud anyway.
Coming through the doors, on a break, he had his hands tucked into the pockets of his uniform trousers and his head down, Courser trotting along at his heels. It was the way he tended to move around the ship, not inviting conversation.
Damn ... seemed to have failed.
Pausing in midstep, he looked up (and UP) at the man, eyebrows arching. ]
You could have asked in there. [ He remarked, nodding towards the MedBay. ] But I suppose that's water under a bridge or some such shit.
[ Giving a jerk of his chin, he motioned down the hall. ]
Come on. I'll drop you off at the mess hall. They'll have what you need there.
ii gently collects all the om&ms...
So when she's asked by him where a tap is, she pauses, blinking, before he explains that he's looking for water. Her face changes to one of realization and she thinks, mouth twisting into a little frown as she ponders where to take him. The Mess Hall is probably the best bet- so she nods and motions for him to follow her. This way. Transistor is tugged along in the process, the glowing greatsword dragging across the floor a little as she carries it with her.
It doesn't even occur to her that she may look out of place or suspicious to other people- she's just trying to make due with what she has, and he asked for help, so she'll give it to him.]
no subject
Whoa doc, careful with these, you could knock someone's teeth off if you're not careful.
[ Her attention returns to the ports, but she doesn't make any motion towards them. Instead, clix simply stares in a somewhat longing manner at them. ]
So, what does these do again?
i'll tldr next round i'm going to bed
Clix.
[ He knows the face. Knows the history in her file, and he honestly couldn't believe that she's still alive, after all this time. How does one get out? He's got so many questions, and most of them he feels aren't worth giving an answer to at the moment. ]
Jesus Christ, you're alive.
no subject
[ She might have broken his arm just for that. ]
Alive and kicking, and screaming, and shooting at people. But don't worry. [ Only now she lets go. ] I always had a soft spot for you doc.
ii
Tap...? He is slightly confused by the term because well...what's a tap. And then he continues and says water. Right, water he know where that is, but he isn't anywhere near it. It is then that he looks up and see how tall this guy is. For a moment he thought it was Mike...but his face looked like that Erwin look alike he met. Weird.]
Have you been walking around looking for a fountain? We have water in the mess hall you know.
no subject
(That was such a long time ago.) ]
I wasn't certain there was a drinking fountain. The whole place looks so... clean.
[ He wants to say "open," as if that would've made more sense - but there are people going about their business in all sorts of dress and appearance that Alva can't help but wonder if this is, perhaps, a particularly vivid hallucination. ]
...Is that a broom?
no subject
When the man asks about the broom in his hand he raises an eyebrow. He had to know what a broom was, there was no way that he didn't. This really wasn't the weirdest sight to behold on the ship though.]
Yeah. What else would it be?