( tdm 12 )

[hownkai]

T E S T D R I V E

leavin’ on a jet plane "Don’t know when I’ll be back again." ABOARD THE MOIRA The Ingress has pulled you in. Your body experiences several sensations at once: being pushed forward as if a hand is resting on your back, momentary and startling blindness, a gentle ringing in your head. You have difficulty discerning whether it is hot or cold, but where you have been prodded is noticeably warmer than the rest of you. Some may suffer from dizziness while others are perfectly fine. Once equilibrium has been reestablished, you will notice you are standing on a long platform and that the room is filled with a soft cerulean light. It's slightly humid and dark despite the glow around you, and nothing is familiar. Shortly after, you are led out and toward the medbay. Inside this room, you are given a physical scan and offered a contract to sign that states you are now part of the crew of the Moira with a specific job. Any questions you might have would be answered in a straightforward manner as well as an explanation about how the Ingress, the thing that has pulled you onto the Moira, is broken and bringing people here unintentionally. This process also consists of a complete work-up of medical history and current health, and afterwards, you are given your MID, a device that is integrated into your hand or wrist with only the slightest pinch. From there, you are guided out of the medbay and to your living quarters. 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. You may notice a slight change in the artificial gravity every once in awhile; however, more noticeable changes can be found in overall morale of those of the crew. ☄ 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. ) The day begins normally. Or almost. The Moira has accidentally fallen along the trajectory of an asteroid barreling its way through space. While most things like this are not uncommon, and the ship is far from any potential danger of collision or risk of debris damaging the exterior, there is something particularly odd about this specific occurrence. The rock itself appears to give off a strange light that is both eerie and alive. Often, if looked at in just the right manner, it will shift colors; so, while one person sees one side of the spectrum, someone else could see something entirely different. At first, things continue on as they usually do aside from the glowing asteroid alongside the Moira, but as the hours go on, that does not seem to be the case. ☄ the hours are breathing resignedly beneath the sky the melancholy waters lie With a rather open view of stars and space, thanks to the skylight above, the pool in the rec area suddenly comes alive beneath the light of the asteroid filtering in. Perhaps it’s some natural response to the chemical composition of the water, or perhaps it’s magic. Yet, regardless of the explanation, those who happen to take a dip suddenly find themselves plagued by despair. The depression and melancholy are not subtle changes either; it slams into you with great force, like a punch to the gut. The longer you remain in the pool, the deeper it grows, like an all-consuming paranoia that settles into the back of your mind and causes your heart to grow heavy. These strong feelings will eventually fade if you choose to leave the pool and dry off, but as long as you remain damp from the pool, those emotions will continue to linger. Even after you’re completely dry, there will be no mistaking just how intensely you felt or why. There is no explanation and might not be. Would you dare a second swim to test whether or not it was a fluke? ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. ) ☄ those who have crossed the eyes are not here, there are no eyes here The walls are shrinking in. Every room you step into feels much too small, like there isn’t enough room to even breathe. A crowded place becomes startlingly empty, and no matter how much you run, how much you explore, there is no one there to comfort you or answer your calls for help. Hallucinations run strong between the lulls of obscene loneliness or claustrophobia, and exposure to the glow of the asteroid is really the only thing to thank for that. You’re desperate to claw your way out of the ship—open the emergency hatch in the Cargo Bay, bust the glass of the Observation Deck. What’s worse is that it’s not just you. It’s catching, and the fear of being next is very real. It feels like you’re being watched, that everyone around you is looking and seeing everything you are. Or are not. The only way to make it stop is to admit that you’re afraid of being seen, but who, in the deep madness of the self, has the courage to ever admit the truth? ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. ) ☄ the sun in flight rage, rage against the dying of the light Something has drifted its way onto the Moira from the outside. Unlike the faint luminosity they give off, they suck up all the light around them, making them the only source to see by. From far away, they are just flitting balls of light, but if you get close enough to inspect them, they are mean. And have sharp, sharp teeth. Go poking, and they will bite you before trying to fly away while taking that only light source with them. The option to avoid them is quite easy if you’re not the curious sort, but without them around, it will be impossibly dark. As the asteroid moves on in the opposite direction of the Moira, these light creatures begin to dissolve and fade away with it. However, a word of caution: their bites glow. If you don’t manage to find the one that bit you and capture it between your hands, the bite will become a permanent glowing fixture of your body. ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. ) 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

[hanzer]

[Adam certainly doesn't protest at having a glass put in his hands, but he doesn't take a drink just yet – instead keeping his gaze trained on Dorian, brows drawn together in a thoughtful frown, as if he's expecting the man's glass skin to crack from the exertion of further speech.

(It doesn't, but the concern is still there, etched subtly in the hard lines of Adam's face.)]

Explains some of what I saw earlier. I kind of thought the random patches of glass around the ship were an interesting design choice, but I wasn't going to say anything about it. [His tone marks it as an attempt at humor, though the continual frown somewhat ruins the effect.

Adam takes a moment to take his first taste of the wine, which turns out to be a grateful one; he'd never really developed a taste for the stuff, but it'd be obvious to anyone with functioning tastebuds how much better this is compared to the whiskey from earlier.

He takes another, much larger, drink before continuing (he'd never really learned to take sips, either.)] Wish I could say I'm a doctor or a magician, but… [Frankly, no one would mistake him for one.] The crew members who are, though– have they made much headway in finding out how to put things back to normal?

[He'd signed the contract, so it's just as much his problem as theirs – though he's not sure what he can do about it at this point, himself. These Caducans are long gone, as far as he can gather, along with anything they might know about how to fix this. No one left behind to work his own personal brand of magic on (because his knack for getting answers out of people can certainly be described as a sort of magic!)]

[liberaltus]

Well I can't be fussed too much, can I, I'm beginning to feel fetching under your gaze. [Referring to the intense way Adam is staring at him. Of course he knows it's concern and interest in the effects of the glass and the circumstances surrounding what had happened.

Still, Dorian does have to tease, it's just the natural order of things.]

I'm sure glass structures are very modern, sadly we still use wood and stone in my world, but it certainly stands the test of time. [Structures from the Imperium are still standing thousands of years after they've been built, not a thing changed.

One thing Dorian can be grateful for is a drinking companion who can keep up, there's more wine where that came from. Granted for his part Dorian is more for savoring his wine, not that he's sipping it daintily.] I'm sure you would have no shortage of patients to admire you, but to answer your question, I do not think they've made much headway in the glass catastrophe. I'm hoping it is just a temporary affliction.

[Not unless someone is keeping it really hush as to not get anyone's hopes up. Dorian's hoping for progress soon, however, because protecting his neck is becoming a pain in the neck.]

[hanzer]

[Adam's not an easy guy to embarrass, but the teasing gets him to look away all the same. A normal person would probably blush, but he doesn't really look like he's blushed a moment in his life.]

I think I'd have to work on my bedside manner first. [Wry as ever. He focuses his attention on the glass he's holding instead, other hand resting in the crook of his arm.

The stemware's delicate – much more so than the squat lowball glass he'd swiped from the bar earlier – and it requires that much more care to make sure he doesn't accidentally snap it in two in his hand...And there it is, he notices now: a small spider's web of cracks in the thin glass where his fingers grasp it. Must've happened when he was distracted (by different glass, ironically enough.)

A faint look of frustration passes over his face, quickly stifled. How to manage the pressure his fingers exert had been one of the tougher things for him to learn during his recovery, and (although he's gotten much better at it in the past couple of months) his particular model of prosthetic wasn't exactly designed with a soft touch in mind.]

Anyway, I can drink to that. To temporary afflictions.

[And with that, he raises his glass with a slight nod at Dorian before downing the rest of its contents in one go. With any luck, the damage is less noticeable without any of the wine in it.]

[liberaltus]

[Truthfully, Dorian is more about flattering people within an inch of his life than he is embarrassing them, that doesn't mean the reaction isn't a compelling one. Still, versatile as he is in his flirtations he is also very aware of what he represents, even if he's not open to sharing.]

I have a gardener back home who needs to work on bedside manner, you are a delight. [Dorian's tone is sanguine, by comparison, even though he is implying that he has been treated a lot worse. Not that Adam is anything remotely approaching disagreeable, not by Dorian's standards anyway, he's friendly enough, and he seems concerned about the state of the ship and the people on it.

That's worthy, that's what counts. Besides, if the man has yet to meet Dr. McCoy then he has nothing to worry about in terms of his bedside manner.]

Oh, can't we all. [Dorian is surprisingly good when it comes to draining the contents of his own glass before pouring another and moving to refill Adam's glass.

Dorian is rather observant, noting the cracks in the glass around the stem and the bottom of the bowl, it doesn't stop him from refilling it anyway, not bothered at all. Anything can be replaced, if not repaired.] You have a remarkable grip.

[Fortunately, Dorian's good at fixing things, with magic mainly, and with a light touch he runs his fingers over the fragile stem, repairing the network of cracks and following it up with a barrier to strengthen the glass. More for Adam's benefit, there was nothing to be gained from breaking the wine glass, one could not drink from it after all.]

Better?

[hanzer]

[The web-like cracks seal right before his eyes, prompting the evening's second astonished reaction in relation to magic. It's not like he's forgotten Dorian is magic or anything, but Christ.]

It's going to take me a while to get used to that.

[He gives the glass an experimental squeeze between forefinger and thumb, and is surprised to find that it holds after whatever the mage did to it. A little more pressure – this time, more than enough to crack it – and still nothing, like he's pressing against some protective shell.

Adam leaves off there (not wanting to push his luck) and makes an impressed sound.] …But I can't argue with the results. [A grateful nod.] Better, thanks.

[And all the more so, with more alcohol in it. He looks like he's got something to say but takes another drink of wine first, as if to work up to actually speaking the words aloud.]

My employer wasn't exactly thinking about wine parties when he put these on me. [The arms, of course, are the only things he can be referring to. It's an apology couched in an excuse couched in sarcasm (with more than a hint of bitterness underlying it all, if Dorian continues to be as perceptive as he's shown himself to be.) Excuses are rarely something Adam feels he owes anyone– but then again, it's just as rare that he finds himself imposing on someone's hospitality like this.

Not needlessly breaking people's things: it's only polite.]

[liberaltus]

[Astonishment, amazement, impressed. These were desirable reactions as opposed to disgust, fear, and loathing that mages outside of the Imperium often received for simply being mages. For Dorian, technology had the same meaning, all of the strange machines and gadgets, weapons and tools.

He watched Adam with interest as he experimented with the glass, testing his hold on it. It would take a lot of pressure over an extended time to break that barrier, but it would also hold up to casual pressure as Adam experienced it.]

Magic is meant to serve man. [The mage lifts his own glass to his lips, sipping and smiling, satisfied.] Or so the Chantry tells us back home.

[That smile melts into a look of contemplation and concern as he takes in that final statement, his eyes moving over Adam's arms. Not that the other man needs to apologize or make excuses for what his hands did, the glass was nothing valuable, but apparently it meant something to Adam. These arms meant something to him, like he had not chosen this- and while the bitterness wasn't as heavy as his other sentiments...Dorian could detect it.

He understood it, actually.

And though he knew it must be a sensitive topic, he couldn't help himself.]

I take it this was not your idea then? But your employer's? Your prosthetics...

[hanzer]

[It's the sort of line of questioning that would normally prompt Adam to steer the conversation in the opposite direction or end it entirely, but– it's different, he admits, coming from someone who isn't from his universe (or, more specifically, from a universe with similar tech.) Fewer preconceptions of what an aug is like, or should be like. No ulterior motives to his inquiry, no hidden agendas... Just simple curiosity.

Now, looking into his glass and reflecting on some of Dorian's earlier comments, he can't help but wonder if any of his questions about magic had hit the same notes.]

I didn't say "yes, please replace most of me" in those words, no. But they did safe my life, so– I'm grateful for that at least.

[There was a time when he wasn't, but it's going to take way more wine than Dorian actually owns for him to share that little tidbit with someone he's only just met. At the most, Adam doesn't exactly sound as grateful as he says he is– but some of that can probably be chalked up to him being... Him.]

And I can't deny that they made me better at what I do. [He shrugs one shoulder.] All in all a pretty good deal for both of us, I guess.

[The way he says it sort of implies that, even so, his boss got the better deal of the two of them– but again, he's keeping things purposefully vague. As the running theme for the night seems to be: things are complicated.]

[liberaltus]

[Of course that only prompted more questions, like "what do you do?" and "how extensive are your prosthetics?" because he mentioned that most of him had been replaced. And for a moment Dorian couldn't help looking him up and down... legs maybe?

But he figured that Adam might have revealed quite a bit of information about himself that he might have been uncomfortable with. Much a as Dorian's fascination and academic curiosity he should... reciprocate in some way?]

I don't suppose I could relate to you on that level, but where I come from there is a school of magic, blood magic... that can take control of people. Change them, manipulate them, the more blood you use the more powerful the spell... and there seems to be a correlation between suffering and intensity. [Dorian narrowed his eyes and sipped his wine for a few moments.] The spell wasn't performed on me...I was able to run away before-

-it's not the same I'm sure, not even close. [But the person who wanted to do it, what he wanted to achieve with it...]

[hanzer]

[Adam can only imagine how that sort of magic works, but it sounds awful all the same – how could "blood magic" not sound awful? He wonders, for a moment, what exactly about Dorian needed to be changed so direly but… If the mage's world (and all its prejudices) is anything like his own, he's not sure he has to wonder.

After a few moments of consideration, he breaks the silence.]

Before I came here, I was dealing with a crisis brought on by a man – the father of augmentations, you could call him. Somewhere along the line he'd decided he didn't agree with the direction his creations had gone, decided the only way to save humanity from itself was to make an example of their… Hubris.

[His mouth twists distastefully, in spite of himself; he's clearly disgusted with the irony inherent in that argument.]

He took advantage of the implants all augs have in their brains, forced terrifying hallucinations on them, driving them to attack any non-augmented person in sight. I managed to escape being affected. [A pause.] I don't have any way of knowing now, but if I had to guess… We must be talking casualties in the hundreds of thousands.

[There's a forced-sounding clinicalness to the way he speaks about what has got to be one of the worst acts of terrorism in history– but everything about the way Adam's spoken about anything so far suggests he works hard to keep his emotions under wraps. If anything, the degree to which he sounds so detached about this in particular just means he has to work exceptionally hard to seem impersonal right now.

If it weren't in his nature to be so distant, he might also say exactly what else is on his mind right now – that honestly, he isn't sure what sort of world is going to be waiting for him when they reach their destination and all get sent back home.

But instead, he falls silent again and just tries to resist the urge to down the rest of his second glass like the last one. Settling for a sizable gulp, he shakes his head and quietly adds:] I'm sorry if I took this to a bad place. For either of us.