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meet head-on
"Here I am at the end of the road and at the top of the heap.."
So far, things have been sort of normal for those aboard the Moira. Some of the crew have begun researching the Ingress, which has produced some interesting things as a result. There has also been the incident with Navigator Mana being separated from the ship while others have been deal with something worse as well as the on-going problem with Ploiatos. However, all of this isn't the problem.
The Ingress begins to work as it should after combined efforts from the crew and is honed in on the Midway Hub’s specific signature, but traveling there isn’t exactly easy. Since the Ingress hasn’t been working properly for so long, as the energy of it surrounds the ship, it enters the Moira into what the creators had called a “timeslip”. Looking outside the ship, this can be described as a multitude of different things. Inside the ship is a completely different story. Effects from Ploiatos have not disappeared, and some of them have even amplified due to the timeslip. Pieces of the ship are beginning to rot away and entire sections of the floor might just disappear from underfoot. Also, one other thing: ALL rooms have been unlocked, including a space that holds all of the missing shoes “taken” by the Ingress. ☄ LET’S DO THE TIMEWARP (AGAIN) The timeslip is not kind to those riding it through to its destination. Looking out any window will reveal worlds growing, thriving and dying in the blink of an eye. One may even glimpse faces of those they know in various states, perhaps even fragments of events that have not happened or maybe never will. Time is weird like that. But there are other things to be wary of in the time slip. Insomnia strikes without warning, and sanity will begin to trickle away as well. Some may even fall prey to body alterations as they travel through more damaged areas of the ship. Bodies may be altered by the energy of the slip, aging rapidly or changing in strange and uncomfortable ways that can’t be properly explained. These changes will happen suddenly and fade away without warning, but there is no getting used to it. People are not meant to be caught unprotected within a timeslip like this, and with the ship falling apart, there is nothing to keep them insulated from the side effects of the vortex.
They say if you stare too long into the abyss that the abyss begins to stare back, but in this case, even averting your eyes may not keep you safe from the dangers on all sides. ☄ HE ATE MY HEART Inside the timeslip, one thing is clear: anything and everything can happen. First Mate Egan will tell anyone who asks that this isn’t typical, which prompts Ira to tell the crew to exercise caution until they reach the Midway Hub. What should take seconds feels like weeks inside the slip, and packing for departure is encouraged. Outside the ship, time flits by, passing disorientingly fast, and for the first few days, it is the only notable malfunction.
Three days in, the crew encounter the first slip monsters. They come within hours of each other in two waves, and when they’ve boarded the Moira, they won’t go until killed or the ship has reached the Hub. The pool will have a new guest, the hallways are over run with small creatures, and the vents are swarming with massive foreign things. The slip is a dangerous place, and all crew are allowed to use any means necessary to stay safe. (All slip monsters can be used by any players; the monsters can attack each other, crew, themselves, the ship. It’s a literal monster throw-down.) ☄ ISN'T IT IRONIC? DON'T YOU THINK? As the Moira reaches the Midway Hub, the ship shudders out of the timeslip‐what should be a graceful stop is anything but. The ship shakes, the vibrations unending and splitting metal. The Ingress machine thrums, a heartbeat felt in every inch of the Moira as the energy crests out of the boundaries the creators had fashioned for it. Blue swirls of light curl up and out, breaking open the ship from the inside out. It begins to plummet, and evacuation measures are, once again, initiated.
Crew are instructed to get to transporters and crafts, leaving nothing and no one behind. The ship is breaking, falling fast and rough through the atmosphere surrounding the Hub. Evacuation pods are primed, anyone in cryo will be taken to the Cargo Bay for transport (unless alternate arrangements were already made), and the hatch in the Bay is opened for crew to escape through. The coordinates for meeting are sent to all crew, not far from where the Moira should touch down, and all medical staff are asked to be ready and waiting for when the ship lands. ☄ GROUND CONTROL TO MAJOR TOM Those who have already evacuated and have landed on the foggy, dark expanse of terrain that the coordinates have guided them to will see nothing around them except for the bright light of the Moira as it breaches the atmosphere and crashes into the rocky surface of the Midway Hub. One of the Captains, Thán, chose to stay on the ship until the last moment to make sure all crew were evacuated and was injured in the process. His reading on the IC Directory blips in and out, signaling that he’s somewhere in the ship’s rubble in need of immediate assistance. The MIDs stop functioning after the initial crash and other than reading vital signs, won’t come back on for a few hours (the network won’t work correctly in that time frame, sending videos and messages that it shouldn’t or not posting at all). The other Captains will ask for someone to take a head count and to report anyone who might be missing while all others will be directed to carefully seek out crew in the rubble and to gather any cargo that they can. Take inventory, set up a medical tent, check transporters and crafts, help crew, and stay together until everyone is accounted for.
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thisavrou_log2016-11-15 09:40 pm
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He's been searching through the downed pods and the haphazardly-landed transporters, he's moved on to searching through the wreckage-- along the way finding strangers, helping them get themselves to shelter, to the med staff-- and truth it's pure, dumb luck that has him in the right place, finally.
So, yeah. There's movement in the fog, and he won't even be surprised to see the knife in her hand when he gets close enough.
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Daryl's quiet when he means to be, so it's entirely possible she won't have time to heft her knife and look moderately ready for anything, considering the circumstance, which would be her preference if she hears someone approaching. Whether she has a chance to look dangerous or not, when she sees who's there she'll relax instantly and hope her head isn't bleeding bad enough to be worrisome.
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Since they crashed he hasn't been getting a constant signal from the device-- damn thing must be broken, or he'd try to get her on it now.
It's reflexive, the way he moves. Quiet, slow; there could be anything out here. She's just a shape, and then she's a moving shape, and then a silhouette-- but he's nearly on top of her before the fog clears enough to make out who's there.
"Carol," he breathes, relieved. Finally.
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"Most of me," she corrects, wiping her forehead with the cuff of her sleeve so blood doesn't trickle into her eye. "You in one piece? Carl?" (Despite having little not say to their shipmates, she does care whether they're alive, but their priorities are clear.)
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"He's all right." Priorities indeed. They're three for three, which means he's satisfied-- and he can go back to pulling people out of the wreckage with a clear conscience. "I'm all right. You?"
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"Getting the last of the stasis pods out, it was getting shaky. Caught the corner of a table on the way to the floor." Her cuff comes off with enough fresh blood that she puts it back on her head with some pressure. "I'm in great shape compared to what the ship must be."
As she talks, she looks Daryl over with a gaze that's fairly sharp given that she's got a nice concussion, looking for injuries. She believes that he thinks he's all right, but tends to trust her own eyes to verify.
no subject
He can't quite muster a smile, but there's something of it in the way he lifts his chin, looks at her. Badly buried beneath worry, but still.
"C'mon, I been all fixed up. Your turn."
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"And here I thought our luck was turning when I got my boots back." Carol's never too badly injured to make a bad joke, after all. She was a little pleased at the random room full of missing shoes because it felt weird to have something removed from her person that's pretty much considered clothing, though the whole thing was unnerving as well -- that they were missing, the room full of stolen shoes, that the room opened when everything went haywire. In any case, hardly a sign of anything like good luck, especially when countering the monumentally terrible luck they tend to have would require something a lot more significant than her favorite pair of shoes.
And hey, it keeps her from thinking too hard on some of the things she saw in the timeslip.
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It'd be a lot nicer if they hadn't slammed into it, but, hey. When life gives you lemons, it's a lot better than life giving you weeks of drought and no food to be found, right?
He leads back the way he came, still slow and careful-- halfway because he doesn't want to tax her, if she's got a concussion, halfway because visibility's still shit and this is still some unknown alien hellhole. (Who knows, maybe it's perfectly lovely when the fog rolls out. He's not in any mood to give it the benefit of the doubt.)
"Good thing we got those tents... Long as we can get 'em outta the tic-tac boxes."
Alien technology: incredibly useful, definitely still worth insulting.
no subject
The comment is offhand enough, though for Carol part of her is indeed wondering if it's the best thing to stay with the rest of the crew. The things that keep happening, one day they're going to stop being lucky and one or all of them is going to be killed or stuck as a form of plantlife or something. The only real reason, beyond the contract they signed which she figures is null and void now that there's no ship, is figuring that if they find another Ingress then they might... and that's where the fantasy dies out, because she doesn't know what to hope for. To go back to Earth? To see the others brought here? To try and get back to Teleios? None of it seems in the cards. If she thought for a moment that Daryl and Carl might be willing, and there was any evidence that this planet had food and water to live on, she'd be suggesting they split off and make a go of things on their own.
But there's that sticking point of Daryl agreeing, which she can't imagine he would. He's too loyal and honorable to take off. So it'd be wasted air and a fight she's feeling too shitty to have, so it's not worth the hurt feelings that would inevitably result. (All the same, she wonders if maybe he'd feel differently if she were the one who very recently turned into a werewolf?)
What she really wants is to go home, to the cozy farmhouse or the lavish Temple penthouse she was given, with their pets and their family and Beverly and not shuffle through an alien landscape while her head throbs in pain. However, they're most definitely beggars and so she won't be choosy. Instead, she takes a wobbly, experimental step forward, then shakes her head slightly.
"Is it far? I think I should sit down sometime soon." See, she can take care of herself sometimes, especially when not doing so means she'll fall on her face and scare the hell out of him. The rest will serve to get her thoughts in order just as much as to ground her physically, both of which sound worthwhile.
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(Maybe, if she brought it up, he'd entertain the possibility. The thing is-- well, the contract doesn't mean a thing, but the people mean something, even if most of them are still strangers. Right now they're strangers that need his help, and he's not gonna turn his back on that. But this whole journey feels futile, when they're not eager to go back home.)
(Maybe if they found a better place... But he's not thinking like that.)
"Not so far." He pauses, gives her a quick look, one which absolutely doesn't seem as worried as he feels (though it also doesn't seem as unworried as he'd like.) "We can take a minute if you want."
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Well, they'll have to see. She's not above challenging Daryl on whether they should stay, but on a foggy alien landscape with God knows what out there and the ship in pieces and with her head concussed isn't the time to get into anything of the sort.
After a sigh, in which she is obviously considering saying she can make it, Carol slowly eases herself to the ground, holding her head in her hands, eyes closed. Trying like hell not to puke and waiting for the world to stop spinning.
"I don't think I'll be much use to anyone," she says, with all due bitterness. Though she has purposefully not made friends on the ship, that doesn't mean she wouldn't help people who were injured if she could.
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"You know it ain't about that," he points out instead, standing close as he can without sacrificing the entirety of his distance vision. There's little heat to the chiding, though. "They'll get you all fixed up."
And then both of them can run themselves into the ground, the way they do.
"Could toss you over my shoulder if you want," he offers, trying to lighten the mood a bit.