thisavrou_ooc | ( tdm 12 )

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*tdm

( tdm 12 )

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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

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Church listens to her, knowing that she's talking about him, but feeling like it's a different person. He doesn't rememebr this - not even a little. There's nothing.

"Well uh. I'm glad past me wasn't a total fuck up," he offers. "Y'know, with the ... gift. It uhm. Sounds pretty cute." He doesn't know what to say.

He wishes he could just remember. Or that Tex would quit comparing him (at least it seems that way) to his past self.

She's amused by his reaction to that, and her smile deepens a bit. "You sure didn't want to take credit at the time," she says. "'Secret admirer.' Right." Church would always be the one who admired her most, and she enjoyed that fact (most of the time).

But she can tell his reaction to her amusement is tempered by something, some thought he's having, and her smile fades. She flattens her hand where it rests at his waist, to hold on to him better.

"Does this bother you?" she asks. She hadn't really intended to just blurt out these events, but she also hadn't known what to do with the fact that he didn't remember them, and even though sharing emotional things wasn't her forte, it had seemed to be the thing he would need. But perhaps that idea had been misguided.

He weighs his options on telling her. It's apparently honesty hour, and she is being surprisingly open about her feelings. Which is ... Weird. He should tell her that yes, this does bother him. But he doesn't want to dampen this.

He gives her a small smile and shakes his head. "No. It's just weird to hear. That I was here before and I don't remember shit."

She knows, though. It's there in his tone, despite the pasted-on smile. "Church," she sighs. "Don't try to lie to me." He'd always been a terrible, terrible liar—even worse than her old friend York. It bothers him to hear, and she should have known it would. She always hides bad memories from him, anyway, and there are bad things coming if she continues down this line. It's better just to...stop, just stop, or gloss over it somehow.

And with that, it's determined in her mind. She's not going to tell him about her death. He can find out about the impermanence of death here in some other way. He'll never really have real context for that desperate kiss she'd attacked him with in the mess hall, but he probably doesn't need it. It's not like her telling him he said he loved her would make him realize he does. Those aren't words they ever bandied about very freely, but...well, she thinks it's probably true of him, even now.

So the emotional is out. Which leaves the physical. Which is her domain anyway. She shifts again, onto her knees, leveraging herself by tugging at his waist with the hand that's been holding on to him, and swings one leg over to straddle his lap. This feels better. Forget reminiscing. Forget the version of Church that wore Adrien's face. This man is gorgeous. And she has him now. She settles onto him, pressing her chest to his.

Church is halfway to protesting that no, he's not lying, it's fine, but then she's straddling him, and he chokes on his words. He curls his fingers in the sheets, his eyes widening when Tex moves to press against him.

"Uhh--" He tries to start, then swallows, his hands moving again to grab her hips. "Tex?"

He knows exactly what she's doing. She's never been good at talking - likes to let her body do that. And he feels like they should talk, but she's taken the words right out of him. ... There's always time to talk later.

That doesn't sound like a protest. Just a request for reassurance. She smirks. This is where she feels confident. It makes her feel powerful, seeing him stare at her wide-eyed in wonder by taking such a simple action. She rolls her hips down against his. She'd earlier had a thought about how coming on to him physically before talking things out would be doing things completely backwards, but now that this moment has arrived she sees this is better. Much better. It suits them better.

She tilts her head and dips it to where she can nip at his jaw line, reaching down to grab one of his hands and place it on her chest. And she rolls her hips again; slower this time, more insistently. She's excited—not that there hasn't been a low buzz of it in the background ever since she kissed him earlier, but it's more present now. She lets out a low, hissing exhale and nips again.

Church tilts his head and lets her move his hand, feeling almost like a puppet on strings for her. "Tex--" he tries to start again, his breath hitching when she bites at his skin. "Tex, I thought we were talking."

He doesn't ... necessarily want to stop, but he feels like they should. He's still not even sure if she is really taking him as a different person. Sort of. However the fuck that worked.

Okay, well, now he's protesting. Something she could ignore, except for the limp way he's touching her. She pauses, breathing against his jaw. She slowly presses a kiss to his skin, then sits up. She needs to see the look on his face. This new face.

Church looks back at her, hesitant and a little unsure - not an expression he normally wears. He leans in to kiss her, just a soft brushing of their lips, and when he pulls away, he sighs.

"You sure you wanna start like this?" He asks, needing to make sure. She said that last time, they fucked and then stayed apart. He doesn't want that. That's the last damn thing he wants. "I'm not -- okay, I was gonna say 'I'm not him' but that's not really. Uh. Accurate. Just - fuck. You know what I mean, right?"

That's the crux of the situation, isn't it? She swallows, then reaches to brush her fingertips across his cheek. No more memories of what he did before, of how he looked before. No comparing his behavior then to his behavior now. This is some kind of fresh start. And she needs to accept it for what it is, in the here and now.

It's belated, but she nods. "Yes. You're you," she says. She leans in and kisses him, keeping her eyes open. It's a slow kiss, a contemplative one. She does want to connect with him physically, but it's not just about the physical aspect of the act this time. That's what makes the difference. It's intent.

She begins again, the same way as before, with a roll of her hips. But this time instead of being cocky about it she's slow and affectionate, gliding her hands down his arms to cover his hands. She rolls against him, and kisses him, and kneads lightly with her fingers.

Who can say what love is? Is this love, trying to drink in the sensations of touching him with her whole body, moving gently together as if to an unheard rhythm, preparing to join as one? Is it love, waiting for a man who had no guarantee of returning to her, and accepting the fact that when he did return he didn't even realize he'd been gone from her? Is it love, realizing the lust she has in her body toward his body isn't the same as the desire she has to make this work, to keep a hold of whatever this thing is?

She doesn't know, but it seems like it. Maybe it's better than what she had thought was love before he came back, not remembering the time before. Maybe it's better this way.

Church doesn't protest this time, doesn't question it or argue. He believes her - that he's someone different to her, even if he's not. So he can let himself have this. They've never been good at talking anyway.

He kisses her, eager and just as excited. His hands move out from under hers, grabbing at her thighs, then hips, waist, ribs, a grope at her chest, and finally settle on her arms, his fingers digging into her skin just a bit. He wants to be sure this is real. That she's real and in his arms. This whole experience, the Ingress, the Moira, ... Everything is surreal. But she's here. She's real.

And shit he's got to focus or he's going to lose it with how she's touching him, how she's grinding and kissing him. Fuck. He missed this. He loves this - loves her.

The roaming of his hands shows that he's finally entered into it and she responds by removing her shirt. Slowly the dance begins—touch, kiss, pull away enough to remove some article of clothing, press together again. Finally they're both nude and she pushes him back and rocks herself down onto him, eager to feel that rush that comes with orgasm—so sensitive, so heady, so ripe. She moves with him, she moves with him, she moves with him, and oh, the touch of his hands, skin against skin, and the feel of his cock; the sensations overwhelm her and she's not one to make noise like this normally but she feels almost like she owes it to him to prove she knows it's him and she grips his shoulders and throws her head back and moans his name. She rides it out, and lowers her gaze again, and then she lays on him to kiss him.

He follows her lead, letting her move him and use him to her heart's content. He keeps his hands on her, keeps his lips in contact with her skin as much as he can. And when he comes, riding out his orgasm with her, he digs his fingers into her hips, ~~has an anxious thought about if these cloned bodies can get pregnant~~, and chokes out her name.

It takes him a minute to respond to her kisses, his nerves still buzzing and his mind still slow, but he's happy to oblige, and moves his lips against hers, his arms shifting to wrap around her torso, holding her close to his chest.

So much better than talking.

Her breathing slows and she props herself up on her elbows, resting them on his shoulders. She tucks her hands under her chin and smiles down at him. "Good talk," she says.

"Great talk," Church counters, grinning up at her. He moves his hands to gently knead at her thighs, wanting to stay close, not wanting to leave ~~ever~~ yet.

A pause, fishing for something to say that isn't sickeningly sappy, then, "You can't get pregnant, right?" He asks, blurting out the question. Fucking smooth, asshole.

"I'm on birth control," she says. "Doc Yewll is pretty efficient about stuff like that." She tilts her head a little, watching his face. It's nice to see him smile, but she still has to get good and acquainted with his new face.

She brushes her fingers back along his ear. Not his new face. She has to stop thinking that. She slowly winds her fingers into his hair and closes her eyes as she leans in for another kiss. Whatever's going on, it's a new start for him, and she's coming to respect that.

Church opens his mouth to say something more, but he stops when she touches him, and nips at her lips when she leans in to kiss him.

"What do I look like?" He asks a minute later, breaking their kiss and dropping his head back against the bed. "Because I haven't seen a mirror since I got here." Odd question to start out with, but he's curious. Sue him.

She opens her mouth, about to give a description that compares him to the clone of Adrien he was in before, but of course that will give him no context. She hesitates and rubs his cheek. "Asian. Dark skin." She smirks a little. "Good strong jaw line. It's pretty hot. Makes me want to chew on it." Which she may as well, since she said it. She drops her head down next to his neck and nibbles a short row of bites along his jaw, interrupted with little licks to soothe the skin. She's only taken the morning off but now that they're here, she just wants to spend the whole day fucking his brains out. Partly an effect of staying celibate while he was gone, she supposes.

He can live with that. If she finds him hot, that's all that really matters. ... Mostly.

He tilts his head to allow her better access, letting out a pleased hum. He shifts a little under her, then moves to get his hands on her ass, groping as she kisses him. He'd definitely not complain if they stayed in this bed all day.

She whimpers, landing a harder bite on his jaw, shifting her hips against him. She's not really surprised he seems to be ready to have sex a second time, and she's certainly not protesting. Reunion. It's going better than she could have imagined, really. No need to sort things out, just...give in. This time she's rougher with him as they make out, more passionate, nipping harshly, holding on tighter, pinning his wrists over his head.

And once they're done pleasuring one another again, she sags back, rubbing his sides, crawling off of him to kneel between his legs. Her hands glide from his belly to his thighs to his knees and she sits there, letting her breathing slow to normal. She's taking him in more fully now, not just looking at his face but at his body. His complexion is smooth and unbroken by scars, and though his body isn't anywhere near as fit as her own, he's not in a condition where she would consider him in bad shape. Unconsciously, as she looks him over, she's wearing a soft half-smile.

Since the time she had learned Church—the Alpha—was being tortured, she had felt a certain responsibility toward rescuing him, toward setting things to rights as well as she could. She didn't know him, she only knew of him. Whatever memories of Church she had had upon her creation had been messed with by the Director, left vague and indistinct. So her introduction to him, when she found him a hollow shell of an AI, was really the first time they spoke in her memory. Still, there was something about him that made her want to be near him, and the fact that she couldn't rescue him that day had always haunted her.

Their first real acquaintance had taken place, then, when she had found him in Blood Gulch, and she had made the conscious choice not to break his illusion that he was a ghost. But that choice meant there was a distance between them that was impossible to bridge. She had allowed him to make references to her being his girlfriend without protest, but that didn't change the fact that he didn't know what she truly was to him. He couldn't know.

Until Wash came along. Wash did what she couldn't do for Church, and Wash's interference meant their last encounter, joining in the mind of the Meta, happened with Church no longer ignorant. She hates so much about the Ingress and this universe, but the fact that it was here constantly malfunctioning meant she and Church had been given a chance they never would have had otherwise. Becoming acquainted for real, getting to know one another, and perhaps giving her an opening to see him the way he'd always seen her.

And now, he's here again, having no recollection of the way things went the first time. It's true, what Wash said, though he had been taunting her at the time—it really seems sometimes like someone is orchestrating all of this. Is there an intelligence behind the Ingress's malfunctions? She thinks of the figure she saw inside of it when it had been shut down last month. She had been worried it was Church trapped inside, at the time, but...

Her facial expressions have continued to change along with her train of thought, and now her lip is curled wryly, thoughtfully. She'd had enough of manipulation when she realized that the Director was using them the way he was. She doesn't like the idea that her emotions are being toyed with, that she's only falling for Church because of someone orchestrating the proper circumstances for that to happen. After all, because of her programming, she knows the connection she feels toward Church, the responsibility she feels toward keeping him safe, is ingrained in her in a certain way. It's not something she's going to deny in herself, by any means, but she doesn't like the idea that someone is using that fact to manipulate her.

"Why are you making that face?" Church asks, his breathing still a little heavy. He pushes himself up onto his elbows, then moves to push his sweaty hair away from his forehead. This ... wasn't what he expected when he stumbled out from the Ingress. This definitely wasn't what he expected when he got a text from her. But he's not going to complain. He's just happy to have her, happy to know she's alive and happy (he thinks, at least).

He doesn't have any deep, poetic thoughts. His brain's still a little too fried for that. All he knows is that he's so fucking grateful that they're together again. That they're alive and able to reconnect. Really get to know each other without barriers, without Omega, without the Human-Covenant war, without Project fucking Freelancer. It's just her.

Of course, the Moira will bring its own set of problems, he's not an idiot. He knows shit isn't going to be perfect. But ... it's new. Something for them to tackle together. Together.

Her eyes dart to his face. She's not going to be able to get away with saying it's nothing, gauging by the way he's looking at her. She needs to just say something vague and then move on to something else, something to distract him. "I want this to go right," she says. "There were times in the past where they didn't." Times she couldn't save him. Times she needed to leave him ignorant.Though in a way, that had been the only choice. Which is what she had been thinking about. She looks to the side, not wanting him to see her expression. She rubs her hand across her mouth, then touches his leg. "We ought to get up and get dressed," she says. "I don't know when Matt might come back."

He gives her a look, knowing that that's not the whole story, but he's not going to press it. He shifts, then sits up, not bothering to reach for his clothes yet. "Who's Matt?"

"My assigned roommate," she says. Not theirs because he's not back in this room with her yet, but...she thinks that invitation is probably coming. She's careful to use the word 'assigned' when she explains—she doesn't want it to turn into a misunderstanding.

His face is near hers now that he's sitting up and she continues to avoid his gaze, except after a moment there's a glance in his direction and she quickly presses her lips to his. "Come on. We need to find something to clean up with." And she draws away, and stands.

"Right," he says, his lips quirking to the side. She just fucked you, you're not going to get jealous, asshole.

"Okay, yeah. Cleaning up. Uh - a shower?" He stands as well, grabbing his clothes from where they're scattered on the floor and holding them to his chest.

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let me know if this is okay!

pre smut maybe??

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NSFWish

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