( tdm 11 )

[hownkai]

T E S T D R I V E

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. ) H A I S T O S Unlike 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 sparks Despite 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 pressure Despite 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 it Out 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. OUT OF CHARACTER INFO FAQ | LOCATIONS | RESERVES | APPLICATIONS | NAVIGATION For mature or graphic content, please label. For questions, please direct them to the FAQ. As always, be kind and have fun!

Comments

daryl dixon ][ the walking dead ][ (crau, but unlikely to mention it much)

[worn_wings]

Everything here is bright and impossible and unfamiliar, and he hates it immediately. He knows where he was, where he was going, and this isn't it. With his back against a wall he takes a minute, shuts his eyes-- hopes he'll open them to find himself back in the car, smoking what might be his last cigarette, or in the Temple-- any damn place he knows would do-- but there's nothing but the expanse of metal walls and flooring.

Impossible lost all meaning a long time ago, so without any better ideas he heads off at random, not bothering to consult the map. Inevitably, eventually, he ends up on the observation deck-- if nothing else he's got to admit it's a hell of a view-- pensively smoking a cigarette, rubbing idly at the thing they've put on his wrist. He's trying not to gawk too much at passing crewmen, trying to stay to the side-- not much here in the way of cover, and he doesn't like feeling exposed.

Eventually he hasn't got much choice but to head to the mess hall, suspicious as he is of their alien hosts. The only other option seems to be hunting cats, and he'd rather not. Probably, he thinks, that's a sign that he's gone soft. Taking his food to the most isolated corner he can find, he eats quickly and without any trace of table manners.

Like hell is he going to sleep in the assigned quarters, but eventually weariness will catch up to Daryl, so you might (if you're terribly unlucky) catch him trying to nap in the lounge, or any deserted corner, or even in the gardens-- though chances are he'll wake with a start if you get too close.

[dum_spiro]

Looking relived when she spots Daryl exiting the mess hall (should've gone there first, really) is the easy part. Real and honest, thoughtless as her steps quicken to trot across the last span of sterile corridor. It's not until she's nearly there that she remembers and pulls up, arms remaining at her sides because her initiating an embrace would be different in ways they never discussed and wouldn't likely ever, even if he were to remember them. The two years she can't forget, that's where it gets strange and hollow, and where she won't allow herself to go.

They're here, he's alive, she's not alone, and asking for anything else would be unforgivable selfishness. They made a choice together, it's not his fault she didn't have the decency to forget like she was supposed to.

"How did you manage to get crumbs on your shoulder?" she asks incredulously, because how better to avoid important topics than to discuss insignificant ones? And really, she couldn't care less about his table manners.

[worn_wings]

Hyperaware of his surroundings as he is, Daryl doesn't miss her approach. For a second he can't believe it, going stock-still and staring like he hasn't seen her in a year. It's the exact opposite problem, of course-- she was the last thing he saw in Teleios, and he wasn't certain he'd ever see her again-- not with what he was going back to-- and here she is.

Except, he's got no reason to think she knows any of what he's lived through, these past couple years.

Holding herself back accomplishes exactly what she meant it to-- he doesn't suspect there's anything between them more than what's always been between them, and while that means a hell of a lot to him... It's an enormous loss to take at once, and she doesn't even know?

He blinks, looking down at his shoulder.

"Space food?"

Who knows.

[dum_spiro]

She huffs a not-quite laugh, the kind of strange humor they always share when things aren't at all funny. It's a convenient cover for her disappointment that he doesn't open his arms to her, but she realizes now that of course he wouldn't. They're in front of people, a pack of strangers, and when Daryl's feeling out of sorts he stays inside himself. As she did before Teleios got hold of her, before Cinna's smile and Beverly's forgiveness and the sharp tang of cigarette smoke on her pillow that she came to adore. Hugging Daryl here and now wouldn't be that, but all the same she wanted just a hint of it... she'll learn to do without, after a few brutal weeks and months of fading longing.

It's going to be torment. She can't decide whether having him here will make it worse or better. Either way, she wouldn't trade his presence for her own comfort. He's safer here than back on Earth for certain, and she'll make sure he never knows about Teleios to be uncomfortable about it. Thankfully, her hair is long enough to cover what clothing doesn't, the arrow's point that she once wished for people to see on the nape of her neck, and she learned enough about her future that she can claim enough time after Terminus to account for the length.

Keeping secrets from him isn't a new development, but an old one. Out of practice though she is, it wouldn't be fair to tell him what happened in the years they spent in some other reality. Carol wouldn't react well to it from his position, she's certain, realizing that someone knew her in such vulnerable and intimate ways without her remembering granting the permission. Though they're so different in so many ways, in this they're not so far apart. Closeness isn't given lightly, and according to his memory she hasn't earned it. He didn't choose her, not in this world. It's not even a matter of someday because there would always be that to contend with, the extra years on one side that would upset their balance in her favor, which would be the antithesis of everything about them that she so cherished. She can't take that away from him, she won't. The weight of those secrets is a small matter compared to that.

"If you're telling me it's protein pills and gruel in there, I'm jumping out the airlock." Another joke, of course. They've eaten far worse. "You okay?" she asks in an unprecedented moment of honesty. She'll have to watch that.

[worn_wings]

Even with a surprising amount of inter-dimensional travel under his belt, this place is new and strange enough that he does feel out of sorts. He isn't sure what to think of it. Doubting the reality of the situation doesn't seem like it'll get him anywhere, so he's not bothering with it, but it's so different from what he expected, what he's experienced, that he still feels a little like he did that first time he woke up on the floor in the Temple. If he'd gotten home and still remembered the past couple years it might've been easy enough to write it off as a very strange dream, but as it is-- knowing it's real, having no doubt that it's possible-- he doesn't know what to make of it, only that he feels very alone.

And that's ridiculous, because it's not just him here. Not even just the two of them, but if he's the only one who remembers Teleios-- hell with it, he'll manage. Carol is still herself. He's thought a hundred times that it would be fine, that he could do without things being different as long as they were still close, still cared for each other, and here's where that gets put to the test.

"Nah." Shaking his head, shrugging, he steps a little nearer out of subconscious habit. It's not too close for the act they're keeping up, not quite. (Someday they'll laugh about this.) "More like... I dunno, cafeteria food."

Except in space.

"'M all right," he adds softly. "You just get here?"

[dum_spiro]

It's odd how often their thoughts run in parallel even when they're convinced that the other couldn't possibly be thinking the same thing. But in this instance, it works against their favor. On the bright side, the core of their feelings hasn't changed, not since before the prison and not in the years they were in some other strange universe. Caring as much as they do, she can't imagine a time when there won't be anything affectionate between them, despite that they don't tend to put a name to it. Until one of them dies or is otherwise lost, that is.

Something about his stepping closer makes her react, and by the time her rational mind catches up she's reached out and managed to get her arms around him before he could reasonably protest. (Would he? Possibly. They're in a crowd. It didn't exactly stop them in Teleios, but here, who knows?) Whether he shrugs her off or not, it's a chance she apparently needed to take. Maybe to say goodbye, ironic as it is to do so as they're just meeting up again.

The hell with it, reasons aren't important, definitely not as important as being able to have him this close, just for a moment. To breathe him in (slowly, carefully, that would be one awkward explanation) and assure herself that this isn't a(nother) dream. One she doesn't let linger long enough for questions, pulling back with relief plain on her face.

"Long enough ago to worry I was on my own here." To think, once that would have been her preference. Thankfully she's learned that loneliness doesn't solve anything.

[worn_wings]

It takes him completely by surprise, and for a moment he wonders if he's reading this wrong, if she remembers. It could be-- there's nothing to prove she isn't fresh out of Teleios-- but if he asks and she has no clue what he's on about, if he has to explain it...

He lets himself lean into it a little, until she lets go. That's normal enough in these crazy circumstances, probably. After all this time it's strange to second-guess himself so much; especially when he knows how comfortable things used to be, even before. They held back on peculiar principles, once, knowing there was only so much energy to spare, but that first time they kissed, they'd lazed about after, leaning on one another, her hands in his hair, and even then he'd thought that was a liberty she could've taken any time she liked.

He shakes his head a bit once she pulls away, tries not to let himself wonder.

"Ain't just us."

If it's just him from Teleios that's a different kind of loneliness, but he can handle it.

greetings strange redneck

[rheecon]

There's a certain degree of disbelief when he spots a familiar figure draped over a piece of space furniture in the lounge, a hint of hesitation coloring Glenn's approach as he stares, confirming what his mind is telling him - as if he could mistake the sight of any of his people, even here in a place like this.

Normally, he'd be mindful of not sneaking up on Daryl, on any of them. But, under the circumstances, he just might manage to step a bit too close.

[worn_wings]

There aren't many people who could manage to get that close to Daryl without waking him. Aside from the fact that most people don't try, most people haven't spent years living in close quarters. Their footsteps aren't familiar background noise.

Also, it doesn't hurt that he's been pushing himself to stay awake as long as he could, so now he's completely exhausted.

But eventually he does wake up, startled out of his fitful sleep, hazily alarmed, lashing out without realizing who he's hitting.

[rheecon]

It's fortunate that Glenn has a couple of things on his side that help him out here, namely his speed and his reflexes. As soon as Daryl stirs it's evident what's about to happen, and he's already swiftly shifting back and away, finally speaking up far too late, "Whoa, Daryl!"

The maneuver doesn't let him escape the arc of the flailed arm entirely, but at least it keeps it from connecting as more than a glancing blow to his jaw. It doesn't feel great, but it could have been worse.

And as he rubs his jaw, in a somewhat sheepish tone, "Sorry, it's me. Uh. Hey."

[worn_wings]

At least he wakes up quickly, once he's disturbed. His reflexes beat conscious thought, but not by much.

"Shit--" he sits up, scrubbing the back of his other hand across his eyes. He hadn't entirely meant to let himself sleep so long-- how long has it even been? Doesn't matter, the more important matter is Glenn is here.

"You all right?"

[rheecon]

Glenn is here, for whatever value 'here' holds. He's not sure what to make of all of this, but at least the sight of a familiar face is something to latch onto. Maybe even helps ground him, a little.

He can't help but answer the question while taking a little bit more than the backhand into consideration, "Yeah... I mean, my face is, anyway."

Everything else isn't doing so hot.

[worn_wings]

If Glenn only knew how glad Daryl is to see him... Fuck, he probably shouldn't let on to how glad he is, because there's no guarantee that Glenn hasn't forgotten Teleios. No way to know whether he's from before or after the last moment Daryl knows anything about.

"Rest of you's stuck in outer space," he commiserates. What the actual fuck.

mess hall

[carltoaction]

Carl will give him that he is right to be suspicious of their alien hosts, but he's been here for enough time to find that the food at least seemingly okay. It's not poisoned like he first thought it could be. Still, there is a nagging doubt he finds every time he comes into the mess hall so he always gets the same thing the person before him does and watches them for awhile to be sure. In the matters of life and death though, he doesn't think there's room to be uncertain of anything anymore.

Once he's got his tray in hand though, he takes it to a seat around the same empty area as Daryl. He likes it so he isn't sitting so close to people anymore, because he has a feeling everyone will stare at him like a freak. And who wants that, really? Not him, that's for sure.

Anyway, with his attention seeming elsewhere, he eventually seems to notice that he's not so alone in the area as he thought he was when he settles into his seat. The figure pops into his limited vision and he can't help look over to them with the intention to just glance at them briefly. It comes as a huge surprise to him when he recognizes the person he lies his eye on.

Though naturally, after two years of surviving and living life with him around, how could he not. His heart starts racing instantly, wondering if he wasn't just seeing things or just feeling relief of some sort given the last time he saw Daryl it wasn't in the best situation for any of them. Daryl didn't look like he was in the best shape then either.

"Holy crap, is that you, Daryl?"

[worn_wings]

It's probably immediately evident that Daryl's in better shape than the last time Carl saw him-- in spite of the way he's scarfing down food he looks decently well-fed, uninjured. Also, the shock on his face is a pretty clear tell.

"Carl?"

He drops his fork, hops up to close the distance between them, looking around warily. He's been half-conscious of everyone around, but he's been trying to avoid eye contact for the most part.

"I thought--" He'd thought he was alone. The ship's too goddamn big to find anyone, and he hasn't sorted out the network. It's been years since he had anything like that. Still, there's bigger concerns, namely--

"Jesus, what happened?"

[carltoaction]

It's certainly evident enough to him now that Daryl is uninjured just by how he has the ability to sit up straight, and it's because of that a part of him can't help but eye him right back with an equal amount of surprise, shock, and relief. Call it what you want.

It's just now he's thinking they healed Daryl in full with the strange medical exam they all get when they come here. And he nods back at his name, not yet comprehending why else the archer would be surprised to see him. His eye's been missing for a mouth already though, so he can only assume by that one unfinished sentence in between that Daryl thought he was alone at first too. That he means to ask just what happened back home. And honestly, Carl wishes he knew that answer to that.

But rather than letting himself think about it and get mad all over again at how helpless they were, he pushes the one thought away to be able to focus on an answer back.

"You thought you were alone?" He opts to repeat and fill in the missing words for Daryl, shaking his head to answer it with a clear no this time around. "No, not alone. My dad is here, too. We don't know what happened... But I, uh, am just glad to see you here. That you're okay."

Instead of, y'know, looking deathly pale, like he last saw. Or worse. Dead.

He attempts to offer a small smile that ultimately fails, and gives pause instead.

"How are you okay, though?"

[worn_wings]

A question like that, he thinks, can't be a good sign. Especially since when he saw Carl last he wasn't injured, so something must've happened. Habitually taciturn as he is, Daryl's got more questions than he knows how to ask at once. He scoots a little closer without thinking about it, the instinct to band together strong as ever.

The thought of seeing Rick again is nearly enough to have him on his feet-- it's been so goddamn long, from his point of view-- but he's got to get his shit together before then. He wants-- needs-- about a million answers, but there are others he'll need to give, which is easier said than done. He can imagine how doubtful he'd be if someone tried to tell him about Teleios, so for the moment, he decides not to try. Ease into it later. It's uncomfortably like lying, but he pushes that aside to feel guilty about later. There are bigger matters.

"'m alright," he affirms. First things first, isn't that what matters? He's good. (Has to be.)

"I been--" He shakes his head a bit. Time to take a gamble, assume things here work the same way. "Folks here, someone said, they come from all different places, times." It'd be a harder pill to swallow if he hadn't heard it all before, but maybe Carl's gotten used to it, too. He kind of hopes so. "Me and Aaron were followin' a guy... Ended up trapped in a car."

And that's the last he knew. Going home, he figured, chances were pretty good he wouldn't make it out of that. Maybe that's what Carl means, asking how he's okay. Maybe he shouldn't be.

[carltoaction]

Unfortunately, the different places, the different times thing (especially) is something he's still coming to terms with. There's not a lot people he feels he can trust with finding out the truth, and Rick is from the same time as him, so Daryl is honestly his first trustworthy source to the truth of what people have been saying already to him.

And as memory serves, the thing Daryl was doing before with Aaron was definitely a while ago. When they were still trying to bring people in even. Before his accident as well. So that realization finally hits him fast and hard, lips tugging at the corners. The whole timey-whimey thing falling on his end of things now is not fun, though. He almost isn't sure of what to say.

But a good thing, for sure, is that Daryl confirms he is okay. Carl can think of something to say to that at least.

"That's good. I'm glad you're okay." He nods and talks at the same time. It's one thing he can be happy about at least. But that said, he is brought back to the other part of his thoughts. It's only fair he explains what little of what he knows on back, right? Right. "But you're right about different times. That was weeks ago for us. Me and dad. And you're fine. We were all fine. But something happens after."

Negan happens.

And he can't bring himself to say that yet either. The details are still uncertain.

[worn_wings]

At least it's the honest truth; he is from a different point, even writing off his time in Teleios as a peculiar dream. (Which it isn't, of course; he knows, and later he'll find the ink on his shoulder to prove it.) For now the important thing is: he's here, he's all right, he's not alone. Not alone being the most important part of it. That's maybe the only thing he wouldn't be able to handle.

Curiosity burns at that, but he takes a breath, shakes his head.

"Don't tell me." Not yet, anyway. Sooner or later maybe it'll have to come out-- the truth always does-- but Carl's missing a goddamn eye, it's bound to be bad news and nothing but.

"You been here a while?"

Funny that the impossible spaceship would be the easy topic.

[honouraryfitz]

"It's pretty, isn't it?"

Rusty doesn't know anybody here, but when she sees somebody else standing alone on the deck, it seems like a perfect time to change that. There's no Miss Bembridge here, and no discipline marks; if she wants to make conversation with a stranger, no one can stop her.

Besides, she can't resist the stars. She guesses this is what it must have looked like for Superman when he was a baby, after he was sent away from Krypton but before he landed in the Kents' backyard. It's so beautiful, she can't believe anyone would want to land back on Earth after seeing it.

Of course, Superman didn't get much of a choice in the matter.

"We used to go camping," she adds, glancing away from the window, up at the man she's sidled up to, "when I was in Girl Scouts, and you could see so many stars, you'd get dizzy trying to look at them all."

[worn_wings]

He doesn't start when she approaches-- only because this place is wide and open enough that footfalls echo, that her proximity doesn't take him by surprise. The strange suddenness of his arrival has him a little shell-shocked, a little more paranoid than he was a few hours ago (which is saying kind of a lot, honestly), and staring out at the spread of stars has been calming, sort of. Equally disorienting, and it's hard not to feel morose about it-- staring out and knowing he's impossibly far from everything he's ever know, again.

He takes a last drag on his cigarette and drops it as he turns to look at her. There's a small pile of them already around his feet. Unnerving as everything is, it's just a kid, and an enthusiastic kid at that.

"Girl Scout, huh?" Considering a moment, he nods, glancing back out the window. (Do you call it a window on a spaceship? Apparently he's gonna have to find out.)

"I been campin' plenty, never seen nothin like this."

[honouraryfitz]

"Uh-huh. Back home." Well, back in America, but if the last person she talked to is anything to go on, there's no promise that this man knows anything about evacuation.

She doesn't really notice the cigarettes--plenty of people smoke where she's from--but his hair is another story. It looks like he's never seen the inside of a barbershop. But maybe that's just how hayseeds wear their hair in the South. Rusty never left New England when she was living in the States (and her accent, a mix of James Cagney and Katharine Hepburn, shows it), and from the sound of his voice, he might never have set foot that far north.

Which is just fine with her. She's missed American accents more desperately than she can say, even ones that sound like another part of the country.

"Me, neither. The stars look so close, you could almost touch them."

[worn_wings]

He can claim as far north as Virginia, if you're not counting alternate dimensions, which are a little harder to map. Either way she's not wrong, and he probably wouldn't do more than roll his eyes at being called a hayseed. Kids can get away with a lot.

"We might could if we stick around," he murmurs, tone low and rumbling, pensive. They are on a goddamn spaceship after all. The corner of his mouth quirks up a little. Better a friendly strange face than none at all, right?

"Girl Scouts tell you how to get by in outer space?"

[honouraryfitz]

"Uh-uh." Girl Scouts taught her to Americanize ten green bottles hanging on the wall, to build a fire, and to break a trail, and none of those are likely to help. After wandering the maze of corridors, she thinks a few cairns wouldn't hurt, but first they'd have to find some stones. "I guess they didn't think I'd be the first person to leave Earth."

She grins up at the man, deciding that the little shift of his mouth counts as a smile. This is already one of the best conversations she's had in months; it feels like a talk without expectations or hidden cruelties, and there's no one who aboard the ship who can cut in and stop it.

"One of the first, anyway," she corrects herself, "since they have plenty of crew here. What did you do at home? Was it anything like this?"

[worn_wings]

One of the first people to leave Earth? Even Daryl, who'd readily admit he doesn't know a damn thing about history, can catch that one. It'd be a hell of a lot weirder to think about if this was his first interdimensional journey. Something to keep in mind, though if he slips up-- well, here they are, how much does he really have to explain?

"Nah." He shakes his head, not quite sure what to say instead. He's a survivor-- that's not so clear-cut as a Girl Scout, though.

"'m a hunter."

True enough.