tdm 5

[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. ) ERIS — 6578 Welcome to one of the sister Eris planets. This one, unlike many of its counterparts, is incredibly high dollar. For visiting individuals, it is mandatory to wear clothes befitting of such a status. For those aboard the Moira, it means discarding work attire for the formal wear they have been provided. Characters will find the temperature moderately cold, a late fall to early winter feel, and their outwear must reflect the prestige Eris—6578 is universally known for. Any sort of trading is strictly done through computers and electronic orders--nothing hands-on as it's considered beneath the inhabitants to indulge in such outdated means of interaction. Unlike most systems, money is needed to purchase things on Eris. The captains have given the crew unlimited credits; with each transaction, simply "pay" with the MID. ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. ) ☄ lavish living Fine dining? The movies? Or perhaps gambling? Whatever your tastes, Eris caters to everyone and everything—the more expensive, the better. There is no limit to what can be done when one has the money to spend, and this lifestyle reflects in the people and surroundings. Even sex is a very ornate process held to the highest discretion. Feel free to indulge, but know that it isn't without its consequences. ☄ taken In its underbelly, Eris—6578's main function is the trade and trafficking of bodies for one of two purposes: to be placed in a situation where you are made to kill for another's enjoyment or are tortured and killed based on the client's personal tastes. Each scenario is designed to fit the paying customer's predilections and is often carried out in places secured and private. Remember, money is no object. Therefore, the extent of what they do or make you do has no boundaries either. 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

illya kuryakin | the man from u.n.c.l.e.

[shakhmaty]

MOIRA
[ He can't believe he is in space. The thought of is bewildering. Illya has spent hours in the Observation Deck and he has plans to spend even more of his time here stationed there, and in the navigation room, and in the engine room when he is more prepared. This is the future. Or a future. He cannot possibly have imagined this would be something the human species would achieve. Sputnik was only a mere six years ago.

Roaming through the Main Hall, his feet lifts off the ground momentarily in mid-step and lands back heavily. He thinks nothing of it until he experiences the same thing again in the Mess Hall. This time, he is floating. A rush of panic over takes him and his limbs flail, struggling to reach and catch on to something. He grits his teeth and sets his jaw but no shout for help or anything comes from him. It's fine. He'll just sweat and spin around unnecessarily. If an arm smacks into a person, he'll apologize appropriately and maintain that he's got this.

Alternatively: when the gravity settles down, he slams back to the floor with a loud thud, both feet lands flat on the ground. His legs nearly buckles when he tries to move forward again. How embarrassing. Illya quickly shakes it off, though the experience has left him stumbling and off-kilter. He casually slides his hand over the top of chairs and tables to steady himself while continuing his pre-incident trajectory. He will insist he is fine but there's a noticeable shake in his hands. But he's fine, ok. ]

ERIS — 6578
[ It is nice here. Everything is very nice. He tries not to look too impressed by very literally everything he sees around him. For a man that comes with eyes from the Cold War era, the technology here is so shiny and new and unattainable that it blisters his eyes when he inevitably stares too long. If he had this or that back, then oh so many things would have come to fruition. But what ifs are spent on day dreamers and he is a practical man. There's a part of him that recoils at all this for its overly extravagant nature; from his formal wear to the excessive theatre he's standing in front of. But the curiosity and awe gets the better of him.

Illya clasps his hands behind his back and observes the spacious, luxurious theatre entrance. While he understands that this is not Earth anymore, there's a hint of familiarity that makes him pause. He releases his hands and moves forward. A sudden jolt of excitement runs through him. He can't even remember the last time he did anything for fun. He has certainly never seen a film for fun, anyway.

That is what makes him stop dead. Like everything else here, even the selection of films are exceeding expectations. He looks at them and feels lost. What kind of film does he even want to watch?

More importantly, how does he even ...get a ticket. He steps in to find the nearest person that is in the same or similar uniform as him and as politely, albeit stiffly: ]

Excuse me, can you show me how this works?

[forwardmomentum]

[ ah, gravity issues. miles is rather getting tired of these -- who the hell is on life support, anyway? do they even have a life support tech? he'll have to check the personnel files and recommend that thán get on that. this is getting ridiculous.

he feels the familiar twinge in his stomach of freefall as the artificial gravity starts to really diminish, leaving him floating helplessly upward. with a noise of irritation, he tries to propel himself over to the wall, in the hopes of having something to grab onto. no telling when the gravity will turn back on, and a fall at this height would be...not ideal. and then that's when he spots ivan. ivan in freefall who is just...gently revolving in midair across the mess hall, looking sullen. he nearly smacks into miles, who manages to kick off a floating chair to get out of the way. what the hell, ivan ]

Are you going to get to a wall or are you just going to dangle there uselessly? Honestly, Ivan, if you take a fall I don't want to hear you bitching about it later. You'll get no sympathy from me.

[ come on, ivan, they were drilled on this sort of thing endlessly at the academy. ]

[shakhmaty]

[ His frown deepens considerably and he looks at the other man for a long time without saying anything, measuring the weight of him in a stare and trying to figure out who is this Ivan. Clearly not someone worthy of any respect if he's going to be spoken to in this way.

Illya decides to replicate the movement he saw the other do, leg stretch out and feet firm on another object to propel them in a different direction. Easy enough. Only he doesn't do it with a chair. There are no chairs around him.

Miles is the closest thing around him.

He makes no remark on being addressed as Ivan or being told he's dangling uselessly. He just looks annoyed at being spoken to at all. He forces a small, wry smile on his face. ]

Little man, come here.

[ He doesn't wait for Miles to get close enough. Illya quickly grabs Miles' shoulders with both hands, he tucks his feet in and uses Miles' chest as a spring board. ]

[forwardmomentum]

[ miles' irritation quickly shifts to alarm when the other man grabs him, his eyes going wide as ivan's feet plant against his chest and shove. he curls in on himself instinctively, not that it does any good -- he gasps out a rush of breath as he feels his brittle bones strain under the force, and for a moment he's genuinely terrified he might wind up with more than one broken rib. but thankfully he's clear of ivan's feet before his bones give, and miles sucks down a nervous breath, staring in disbelief and incipient outrage at him. ]

Ivan, you idiot -- have you lost your frigging mind? What the hell?

[ one arm is crossed over his front protectively, his hand probing for unseen damages -- the other is strained to reach some handhold as he sails away from the other man, on a collision course for the wall. miles is going to smother him in his sleep, he swears. ]

[shakhmaty]

[ He looks back as he floats away, frowning at Miles' outrage. It was only a little tap, did he underestimated his strength again? No, that can't be it. He curls and --

His stomach contents rolls and nausea hits him hard.

This is fine. He's not beginning to feel sick. Bite the inside of your cheek and move on. ]

We're in a space ship. There is no gravity. And I am told that my name is now Ivan.

Yes, I must be out of my mind.

[forwardmomentum]

[ what the shit. miles' brows draw down and he looks at ivan -- or maybe not ivan -- more closely, a strange look coming over his face. no, he hadn't mistaken the resemblance, at least, the man really does look like ivan -- tall, annoyingly handsome, though not as much without that affable quality ivan has to him. as he shoves his irritation aside, he realizes, embarrassingly late, that the man's hair isn't quite as dark as ivan's, and -- harder to tell in freefall -- he's even taller than ivan. he has to be gregor's height, at least. miles tilts his head in an expression of total dumbfoundedness and, in his distraction, collides with the wall. miles snarls out a curse in barrayaran russian and scrabbles for something to hold onto, staring at the other man. ]

Alright, so if you're not Ivan, who the hell are you?

[shakhmaty]

[ Not-Ivan tsks as he finally straighten against a wall, bracing himself there in case he does hurl. He doesn't want to, not with this person in front of him. Oh, the pride that'll cost him. Especially if it is another Russian, as it appears. There is something, aside from physical appearance, odd about this man before him. The honest confusion in his face or the odd accent, perhaps ]

I am not Ivan. You are?

[ Illya shrugs. This Ivan, who apparently looks startling like him, is one piece of information Miles has on him. It's only fair, from his point of view. ]

ERIS — 6578

[warandpeace]

[All the way out here on a mysterious planet in space, the accent catches him off guard. Maybe because it's actually familiar while the rest looks like it should be out of some sleek futuristic thriller full of scantily dressed androids. But he turns to look at the man, shuffling to change position fairly well as he'd become accustomed to the crutch.]

[They said money is no object, but he'd been fairly frugal in a fit of paranoia. Better being cautious than sorry.] We have to use the MID over there. [He tipped his head in the specific direction, towards one of the computers.]

Come on. I'll help you. [Russian, he guessed. Like Ocelot, though Ocelot had no notable accent. He didn't know if the idea was pleasant or terrible, as the Cold War still left his world frigid. He wasn't on the best terms with the Ocelot in particular despite his neutrality, as he was in on Zero's nonsense trickery. He was tired of being used as a pawn in their military games. But a Russian... also like the soldiers taken from Afghanistan, welcomed into the ranks of the Diamond Dogs. His beret still bears the emblem, despite everything.]

[At least he was possibly in a state somehow relative to his own. Who could tell, really. For all he knew he could be some confused future Russian from space.]

[Miller has one arm, his left, the other shoulder and arm hidden by a loosely draped coat, and while his right leg is intact it's fairly obvious that under the pants there's a rudimentary prosthetic below his left knee. War has not been kind to this man. Espionage is a dirty business.]

[shakhmaty]

[ He nods politely, smiles as politely and says... politely. His usual for strangers in a strange place. The only difference is he's had no mission prep for this at all. ]

Thank you.

[ As he follows the other man, he takes in the various cues. He stares pointedly but says nothing, and decides to retain a formal, stiff stance. His arms are relaxed against his side. He doesn't know what a MID is, exactly. That'll be a question for later, if it is necessary. ]

Sorry the new character nervous makin' me screw up. Many edits.

[warandpeace]

[He glances back. Even when he had all his limbs, Miller wasn't so stiff. But neither was Ocelot. Probably a soldier, though. Some sort of soldier.]

[When they reach it he braces his foot so he can let go of the crutch and keep it tucked under his arm, then swipes his hand in front of the machine.] Take your MID and swipe. Then it'll give you a list of options you can choose from. [None of them he knew, but hey. Who could tell whether something was bad or not?]

[If they're going to be on the same crew, he might as well introduce himself.] I'm Kazuhira Miller. [Fully aware he didn't look like a "Kazuhira". His father's genes has weaseled their way in there strangely.] Moira?

[Everything about his own voice is quiet and earnest, a touch gravelly but not too much. Not exactly polite. Not impolite. The sort of voice that delivers information and instruction.]

it's ok!

[shakhmaty]

[ He looks at his hand for a second before mimic Miller's movements naturally. He doesn't choose, however, he stares at the list. Simply, because... there is a list. Theaters plays one movie at a time where he's from. They never have the more than one movie at the time. He shifts his focus and nods to Miller. ]

Moira. Is the ship?

[ He use his eyes to gesture upwards, where supposedly the ship is. ]

[warandpeace]

So they told me. [He gives the man some space, noting that he didn't give his own name. Maybe he has his reasons for being wary of giving it out.]

Any idea where this money is coming from?

[Not that he's not going to spend it, but he's going to do his best to spend it on ways to deal with any consequences that might be thrown at them. He doesn't trust it, but his trust comes in short supply anymore.]

eris

[smoothaf]

[Napoleon doesn't want to leave this place. All of his interests seem to be brought together into this one planet. The only downside was the method of payment. He's doesn't believe that they genuinely have an unlimited amount of money to spend and more than likely there'll be a catch somewhere. This does make it a little difficult to indulge, but he'd figure something out.

In fact he starts by casually bumping against someone and relieving them of their tickets which he then waves in front Illya and the person he's talking to.]

Never mind him, I've got him covered.

[He smiles brightly and he's most likely going to ignore the glare he's going to receive.]

[shakhmaty]

[ Great.

When the confusion lifts, Illya realize he is both relieved and aggrieved at the sudden appearance of none other than his opposite in every manner. Familiarity and comfort conflicts with the irritation he gets from seeing Napoleon Solo and being caught... indulging. He leads them away from the rest of the crowd, his persistent frown still there. ]

What are you doing here?

[smoothaf]

[Napoleon smiles about as much as Illya frowns and he goes along without a fuss. There was a certain joy to be obtained from gently pushing Peril like this.]

Getting you tickets.

[He once again holds them up and waves. He has absolutely no idea what they're for, but he doubts knowing would change anything.]

I believe the words you're looking for are 'thank you'.

[shakhmaty]

[ That smile is very annoying. He hates it. But he'll grab the tickets without fuss anyway. The point is that he has a show to watch, not that Cowboy here has the one up on him. He stares for a moment then quickly. ]

Thank you.

Now, what are you doing here?

[smoothaf]

[There's no need for one-upmanship. Illya is for situations that require blunt force while Napoleon knows that he's better when a little finesse is needed. And right now they don't need a hammer (or sickle).

His smile if anything gets bigger when the tickets are plucked from his hands.]

You're welcome, Peril.

[He waits just long enough to test Illya's patience before speaking again.]

And I'm seeing the sights. They have some very nice paintings that I want to take a closer look at.

[lets_see_what_happens]

[A firm hand closes on Illya's elbow, intercepting his arm mid-swing, and tightens hard to steady him and drag him in towards the wall Gregor managed to get anchored to before the gravity cut out completely. He firms his grip on his handhold and tows Illya closer.]

Are you quite all right, Iv--ah. [One glimpse of Illya's face and Gregor falters, but doesn't let go, though any hint of sarcasm present earlier drains right out of his voice.] I'm sorry, you look a great deal like a friend of mine. Here. [He pulls Illya in a controlled drag down to a handhold.] Do you feel well? I mean, ill, at all?

[shakhmaty]

[ Illya never asked for help because he didn't want any. But it was beginning to spin out of control for him, it would be stupid to say no at this point. So he lets Gregor drag him towards the wall. As soon as he's stable enough, he pulls his arm free slowly and cautiously, then smooths out his uniform.

The problem is now he owes someone, a complete stranger, a favour. ]

I'm fine. [ He gives Gregor a once-over ] What is it that you want?

[lets_see_what_happens]

[Gregor looks a little startled, then tilts his head curiously.]

What do I want? Besides making sure you weren't going to injure yourself or anyone else floating around unanchored or be sick in an extremely inconvenient fashion for everyone in your immediate trajectory, starting with yourself? Why would you assume I want anything?

[shakhmaty]

[ His mouth press to a thin line. He hates being the liability and that is exactly what he sounds like he is. His irritable mood doesn't make him feel any better about all this. ]

Because you helped. I understand now it's because I would be an inconvenience. I apologize and thank you.

[ Illya cautiously felt around to stabilize himself. ]

This- what is happening to make us float?

[lets_see_what_happens]

I think whatever causes the gravity on this ship is shorting out. [Gregor sighs, like this is a mild inconvenience but unexceptionable otherwise.] It'll probably be fixed soon.

Is this your first time in null gee? [Kindly.] Of course I don't mind giving you a hand--I remember what it's like. Disorienting as all hell when most of the rules you're used to stop working altogether without enough warning to let you get somewhere you're not banging around. I'm impressed you're not space-sick, it's fairly common.

on the moira

[securus]

[ Adriana watched behind the impassive tinted visor of her helmet as chairs and even tables shift and slide backward. Magnetic strips on the heels of her boots of her Mark V powered assault armor charged and clamped shut to the floor of the mess hall. She stood a stolid statue against the inertia, idly wondering if she even needed to use her mag-boots in the first place. Ahead of her, someone else meandering around the mess catches her attention. He had that ex-military affectation to him if the close cropped hair and size were any indication. She watched him stumble around curiously until he came towards her on the collision course that was his awkwardly trying to right himself against gravity itself. ]

Careful.

[ A heavy, Slavic accent says as a massive hand clamps around his forearm. This over seven foot tall, silvery-grey behemoth could have been mistaken for part of the background for having not moved an inch until that very moment. ]

[shakhmaty]

[ He had tried to avoid it, but the sudden forward momentum and friction-less space made it impossible. The collision didn't surprise him but the hand on his arm and the voice coming from it did. For a time, he thought this was statue, a memoir of this ship's past. It was not.

He jerked away and didn't exactly scrambled back but made the mistake of thinking he had proper footing and tried to step back. His upper body flew backwards and the grip on his arm pulled him back. His hand caught on before his head bashed against the metal chest plate. The opposite of careful. Illya could only pull a face and scrunch his nose. ]

Thank you for your help.

[securus]

[ Monstrously proportioned with a shoulders wide enough they choked the nearest point of egress, in armor she was more bulwark than person. Adriana moved around him with a quiet fluidity that jarred with everything about her extreme physicality.

Behind that impassive orange-yellow visor, a tilt of her head emphasized a measure of curiosity in her looking him over. Then - she says something in Slovak with a questioning patter to it. Pauses. Then repeats what she said, this time in Ukraine; slower and with less articulation.

She tilts her head the other way. Not right? ]