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leavin’ on a jet plane
"Don’t know when I’ll be back again."
ABOARD THE MOIRAThe 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 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. ) 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 breathingresignedly beneath the sky the melancholy waters lieWith 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 crossedthe eyes are not here, there are no eyes hereThe 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 flightrage, rage against the dying of the lightSomething 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. )
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thisavrou_ooc2016-07-08 05:07 pm
Delsin Rowe | inFAMOUS: Second Son
[ Delsin has barely just gotten here and he's already had it with the weird malfunctioning equipment on this weird malfunctioning spaceship. Now the light's going out-- fantastic, not like he needed that. The one bright side is... well, him, actually. Or his Neon powers, anyway. As a public service, he's wandering down pitch dark corridors and lining the walls with neon light, mostly in purple and pink. They glow well enough that the floaty spectral jellyfish aren't the only thing to see by anymore-- at least until one ambles by and starts absorbing his paintjob.
Which is rude as hell, actually. ] Hey! What the hell?
[ Feel free to find him as he's leaving a neon trail, or as he's (unsuccessfully) trying to take the creatures down by firing beams of brightly colored light from his hands. ]
☄ a man, a plan, and an aerosol can.
[ Are there any graffiti aboard the Moira? Well, either way, the count is in the process of going up by 1. Whereever you are, you may spot Delsin loitering or in fact sitting around, nose in his sketch book. Or at a later stage, unfolding some cardboard and preparing his stencils. He's not trying to be particularly sneaky about this whole thing-- so far, nobody is telling him no. Hey, what does he know about spaceship laws on vandalism? Or was that in the fine print? Well, it's whatever. He's practically a hostage being forced into labour, the way he figures, someone has to let him get away with something here.
Wait even longer, and he's unpacking the paint cans and getting to work. Or interrupt him at any point. He looks like a punk, anyway. Or like someone who should have a job that he's most definitely not doing. ]
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You might want to watch out for the teeth during your target practice.
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Seriously? [ Sighs, shakes his head. ] Guess I should've seen that coming.
[ The dubious up side? The jelly isn't really going anywhere, slowly starting to absorb the light Delsin has left along the hallway. He just scowls at it as he spots it. Beamspam doesn't seem to have done, well, anything. ] Those teeth scaled to size, at least? I mean, being in space, I'm willing to suspend a lot of disbelief.
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[That's how zoologically dubious creatures roll. Speaking of which, no, she's not particularly alarmed by the whole laser light show he's got going on. So long as he keeps the beams pointed away from her eyes, we're all good. Besides, if she wants to know, she'll figure it out eventually.]
They leave some of the glowiness behind as a gift. Magnanimous little things. As far as I can tell, the glow just... glows. Try not to get bit anywhere you'd miss.
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He huffs a laugh. ] Charming. Thanks.
[ ... yup, that jelly is slowly floating closer. Delsin lowers his hand, the glow fading somewhat, which turns out to make no difference for the path of the jelly. ] On second thought, I think that's enough shooting at things pointlessly for the day. I kind of wanted to leave something for other people to see by, but seeing as these things eat neon for breakfast, looks like I'm wasting my time here.
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Yes, we'll have to save our EAT AT JOE'S signs for a better, less jellyfish filled day.
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And, well, shrug. ] Are the lights still on anywhere?
Re: Delsin Rowe | inFAMOUS: Second Son
(ooc: you seriously almost got some gamer nerd with angels as friends thrown your way)
[ There probably isn't graffiti on the Moira, but there is a teenage girl who likes hiding junkfood in various places and Delsin was just about to ta gone of her hiding spots. So her nose wrinkles some as she watches. Not because of the tagging, but because there are some chocolate chip cookies she really wanted back there.
That being said, however? She can't help but find what he's doing fascinating. She wants to talk to him, that much is obvious. But she keeps her distance, and her behavior definitely says she's Unsure about this person so she's going to play it safe and keeping her distance is the way to do it. ]
...I might know where to get some more cardboard.
aw man, feel free to still throw Teen Angel my way!
The sketch and shapes so far seem to be of a person in a space suit with a... something on a leash. Might be one of those glowing blue jellyfish from the other day.
He looks up from where he's kneeling on the cardboard as he reconsiders some of what's going to be shading, and stops chewing on the end of his pencil in thought. ] Yeah?
[ He smiles, just a little crooked. ] Where's that?
i just might!
[ There's always packages in there. Why wouldn't there be cardboard? ]
I bet you can ask them and they'll help out.
:D awesome!
[ And they still use cardboard. ] Well, gift horses and all that. Thanks. I'll make sure to drop by there and uh, ask 'em.
[ Not considering theft or anything. Nope. No sir. He's just not used to anyone official actually wanting to help him. ]
time to make some art
She stops, though, in her sweeps, to watch him, head cocked curiously. Geo knows better than to interrupt an artist at work but...
Well, life's short anyway, at least for her. Quietly, she settles to sit next to the cans. Dirty fingers skim the tops as her mouth twists in a little thoughtful frown. She's not seeing the color...
Geo taps Delsin's shoulder just twice, hoping to get his attention.]
Yesssss. ... and to startle the hell out of an artist.
He laughs his fear off, or tries to, shaking his head. Like it's nothing, like his heart isn't in his throat and he wasn't a split second from firing at her there. Good thing he stopped himself before his hand was glowing. ] Uhh, hi?
[ The cans she's sitting by contain white, black, and blue. There might be others in the backpack, of course. ]
as u do when ur sneaky
Oh.
Oh.
It takes her a moment to realize she probably doesn't look so friendly... Nice going, Geo. So she removes the sniper rifle carefully, gently setting it down like it's the only thing worth anything in the world. Hands up, knuckles scratched, she's clearly now unarmed. Methodically, she continues to take off the gas mask.
Her free hand goes to the pocket of the canvas jacket. The stencil in her hand is crumbled, covered in thick layers of red, pink, and orange paint. It's been a while since it's seen a better day, honestly, but she wouldn't make a new one until she really had to make one.
Lips pursed, she points to the red heart on her mask, brows furrowed upward in an implied question mark to her request. Maybe?
At least Geo's learned to not scare so easy these days.]
Exactly.
[ And she's... not answering. That's aces. Is she-- taking off her mask and...
still not talking? Oh. Oooooooh yeah great A++ work on catching on, Delsin. He stops babbling and waits for her to finish, his posture a good deal more relaxed by the time she is making her request. He hops back into a crouch to see what she's pulling out of her pocket, and smiles. Reaches for it (carefully, gently)-- so he can get a look. It really looks worn, not just used. ] Can I? I'll give it back, promise.
[ Just to see if there's anything immediate that need fixing. He won't ask if she wants a new one, since this one... probably has sentimental value attached, that much he can guess easy. But he's got tape around to mend tears or anything.
There's something about someone in dusty canvas clothes spreading brightly colored hearts around that he's not sure what to do with, or think of, but even without any accidental mind-melding involved, he immediately feels empathy. What kind of place must she have come from? ]
I've definitely got some red, if you want. [ He pokes the particular color stain on her stencil. Doesn't know if it's just not speaking, or also not hearing, after all. ]
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Not that it would mean much to him.
So she hopes.
Any of the stencils back home would get them into years of trouble. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea... Vivian wouldn't approve.
But when he says red, she brightens, smiling broadly, nodding. Geo opens her mouth, closes it again. How to put it... She points to her ear and gives him a thumbs up. Perfect hearing! Then, she points to her throat and slashes a flat palm across it quickly.]
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[ Sitting down and balancing the stencil on one knee, he tears off a small strip of tape which he carefully covers one of the rips with. So long as she's not telling him no. ] Let me just put some tape on this, then it's not gonna rip all the way through so easy. 'kay? And then we can get to work. [ Gives her a smile. ]
The red's in my backpack, you can borrow it. [ He jerks his head to the side. His pack is a worn thing that's more patches and pins and stains than anything else. It's still open. Not like he's got space-cash people could run off with. ] No pink or orange though.
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Patches, huh? She's seen those, but not quite like the ones on his backpack. Geo stops for a moment to observe them, wondering what they meant or where they came from. Hell, his whole outfit has her buzzing with a thousand questions, but she'll keep it together. He didn't seem like a scavenger at all, but he tagged anyway. Cold weather, from the clothing and the beanie? It would seem likely...
She gingerly unzips the backpack. That low whistle she lets out is one that shows she's clearly impressed with his collection. Way more than she's seen in one go. But in her hand goes for the red. That's a familiar weight right there.
Wait. He doesn't have anything for his face or mouth...? Maybe she's just too used to it now, but really.
After she sets down the can, her hands quickly work at undoing the scarf piled around her neck and offers it to him. It used to be white, once, and the myriad of characters and symbols on the cloth have faded to an off-grey. The deep, black splotches from the ash have settled in as a stain by now, unfortunately.]
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The whistle makes him grin. ] Not that bad after all, huh?
[ There's a spare of each the black and white. Clearly that, the blue and the red see the most mileage, but he's got a few other colors besides. The yellow is mostly untouched. All the cans look much the same, colored caps and stains aside-- same brand all around. Perhaps, if she has moved back to the backpack, she has also seen the design on his vest.
The scarf he accepts with a smile, trading it back for the heart shape. ] Oh, thanks.
[ He forgets. Shouldn't, but does, and supposes she's got a point now that he's working indoors for a change, too. His fingers pick at the fabric of her scarf, curiously eyeing the faded characters on the grey. Stained as her clothes, sort of. He feels awkwardly pristine next to that, even though too many falls and scrapes have worn on his clothes a little, too, his white hoodie is still very clearly white, and the denim hasn't really changed color either. When he looks at her, it's obvious he's got questions, too. ] So uh, you've got a name, right?
[ Presumably. He nudges the pencil at her if she needs it. There's cardboard and a sketchbook and all sorts of stuff to write on, so. ] So I don't gotta keep calling you "you". I'm Delsin.
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Like him, though, she feels off, yet in an opposite manner. Geo feels entirely too dirty. This entire setting is too clean from what she's used to seeing. A few places they'd been to were clean, but they were sinister in cleanliness. Sterile. Harsh white. Dark splotches in pristine buildings. They ran from abandoned buildings to sewers to overgrown zoos. Clean buildings meant they had the time and the patience to maintain everything, and to hide everything.
Geo tries not to think too much on it.
With her right hand, she points just one finger up, the rest of her fingers curled, index finger touching her thumb. D. A pause, then it changes again, for the next few seconds: knuckles bent, an L shape, a fist, a single pinky in the air, and finally a fist again, with her index and middle fingers rest on her thumb.
D - E - L - S - I - N.
She takes up the pencil again, clearly having some trouble in trying to keep the pencil in her hand. The shape is a little awkward in her hands, having gone without writing by hand for some time. She manages it after a little fumbling, thankfully. The pencil touches the cardboard, and in a slightly scrawling cursive, she writes Georgina. She then puts box with little rays around the first three letters and a smiley face at the end of her name. Geo signs her own name now as well, three hand signs spelling out G - E - O, all with a bright smile]
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[ It's the way she struggles with the pencil that has him doubletake again. It's not like delving into someone's mind, not as clear, but there are hints all over the place, glaring and obvious. Showing instead of telling. What the hell kind of place did she come from? ... well, Earth to Delsin, maybe just ask some day. For now, he reads out what she's writing. ] Georgina...
[ Thankfully, her cursive is too much of a scrawl to remind him of Fetch too strongly. He cocks his head as she continues. ] So just Geo, huh? Alright.
[ Works for him. Short is good. He pulls the scarf on. ] So what do you say, Geo, should we get to work?
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Geo puts on the gas mask properly. Funny how easily she manages to put it on. She doesn't bother with anything fancy like Delsin, with tape and composition and arrangement. Her fingers set the stencil in place, nails lined with black ash and dirt.
A bristle of self-consciousness cuts through her. She doesn't look like Delsin at all. She doesn't belong in this place. Her clothes don't even fit, despite that it's been taken in to fit her small frame.
She huffs audibly through the gas mask. Nothing she can do about right now. She's here to tag. Let the world know they're not going to be put down or shut up.
So she presses down on the nozzle. The red paint splatters onto her fingers, cakes even more on the stencil. Not a perfect heart, but an honest one. There's a bit of comfort in that. Not a perfect heart, just like she's not a perfect girl in this clean world.
Besides. This place needed some color.
Setting down the red, she reaches for the white, and paints just above the small heart another lopsided heart, larger this time.]
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She's done with the red before he even has the first stencil in place-- little bit of arranging here and there. It's careful work for him, even though with the noise he makes ripping off the tape, it might not look it. But once it's done, he can't fix the angle anymore.
If she's still busy with the white by the time he's done, he'll reach for the spare in his backpack, before he pulls the scarf over his mouth properly and gets going.
He's not aware there's anything she's worrying about. Art is better than worrying, he finds, and it provides a much-needed sense of normalcy in a place that is, well, literally alien. Even without anything dire that he needs to get back to, he feels off-kilter and wrong being here, and this is his kind of band aid for homesickness and displacement. It leaves him raw, but it also gives him an out by letting him focus. He swallows thickly and makes sure he gets the edges clean. White, white, white, and thinking of the marks he left on Seattle instead of-- instead of the billboard back home right before this mess started. Anything but that.
Even getting caught now would somehow be right with the world. Not that he'd go easily. He steps away, once the first layer is done, lowering the scarf again and giving Geo a smile. ]
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Big dreams and all. She's not even really a kid, but sometimes, she felt that way, just a small thing in a huge, dry and dying world, slowly trying to rebuild itself.
Geo can only watch him and admire his handiwork, his artistry. Geo had a feeling he'd done this a lot, but she hadn't expected all of this. It's... nice. Different. They tagged on the run. He actually took the time to make something out of it. Where is he from that had that sort of time, too? Everything was running, running, running away from the ash storms, to shelter and safety. He must either be from somewhere free of the ash, or somewhere different entirely.
Something was there hidden in the intense focus, but what, she couldn't say. Years of learning to read people out of necessity made it easy for her to pick up on the more subtle things.
Weirdly, though, it was calming to watch him.
She may even be a little jealous.
But hey. She could put that to work.
She gives him a quick thumbs up, as her mask is still on, then proceeds to pluck up the yellow can. The paint goes on thick in a corner, building up in a liquid bubble. She does the same for the red paint. She dabs a finger in the red, then the same finger in the yellow, and starts to mix.
No orange? No problem, as shown with the new color now covering her index finger. Geo smears the orange around the red in a bright outline, childish compared to Delsin's work, quite honestly.]
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And so he does. As he takes the first stencil down and tapes the second in place, he catches her mixing spray paints into finger paint, and grins. Unconventional. Probably blasphemy to some people, in fact, but you gotta do what you gotta do and apparently she really wants that orange. Why not, right? Everyone starts somewhere.
But then he's grabbing the black can and shaking it up, the familiar rattling sound practically music. This layer is less work than the first.
As he takes it down, the white, indistinct person-shape has become someone in a space suit, a leash in hand apparently attached to... something. That something still needs work. But he nods, pleased with it, even though the paint is running in places. ]
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