( april intro log )

[hownkai]

Who: Everyone
When: April 1st and on
Where: The Moira + Del Pascia
What: The crew finds themselves visiting the correctional facility of Del Pascia.
Warnings: Mentions of blood. Please label your content!

I N T R O L O G

slammed & counted "I feel liberated when I'm doing it, and I want other people to feel liberated through it." 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. This process 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 with only the slightest pinch. From there, you are guided out of the medbay and to your living quarters. With the combined efforts of the crew, the terror plaguing the ship has been successfully removed from the Moira. Yet, it doesn’t come without consequences. Aside from the overall state of those aboard the ship, the Moira itself has taken considerable damage across various sections. Overall functionality seems stable for now, but with necessary repairs to be made and few supplies to actually make them with, the Captains have set a course for any nearby planet with the hope of finding what they need. However, that is much closer than it appears. As new arrivals begin coming through the Ingress, a message is received by those in the Tower and broadcast to everyone: Please be advised. Your vessel is now entering Restricted Space. As per penal code 65208-A, only authorized personnel are to be admitted beyond this point. If necessary, further assistance will be provided once docked. As there is little choice, the Captains instruct Navigation to proceed with caution. All transporters will be required to assist in taking those who volunteer to the main hub. WELCOME TO CORRECTIONAL FACILITY DEL PASCIA Del Pascia is one of many facilities across the universe built to maintain and rehabilitate its inhabitants. With a combined populace of both prisoners and employed civilians, it functions as both prison and living quarters. The central section of Del Pascia is divided into multiple floors that branch out into subdivisions of the facility—clearly and precisely labeled. For those contracted to work in the prison, Del Pas Main is home. There are cafeterias, common areas for exercise and general downtime, divided residences, and work stations. Beyond this area, each remaining wing of Del Pascia separates into cell blocks A through F with similar facilities available to the inmates. Varying degrees of criminals are brought to Del Pascia, ranging from maximum security to juvenile offenders, and security differs depending on which block is visited. Yet, there is something peculiar about this prison upon further investigation: there are no living persons within Del Pascia. The AI, which runs and oversees all of Del Pascia, has made arrangements with the Moira so that those who wish may board and take what is needed to begin repairs. This program, while generally polite in nature, goes simply by the name D-E-L. ☄ ENJOY YOUR STAY ... IN PRISON Those who choose to go to Del Pascia will find themselves greeted by D-E-L. It has already agreed to terms with the Captains, allowing crew to strip nonessential supplies that aren’t needed since the station’s crew and prisoners were relocated due to funding cuts. The only condition placed upon this agreement is that any crew wishing to explore must undergo a mandatory decontamination before proceeding through the rest of Del Pascia. This process takes only minutes and is guaranteed to cause no physical side effects. Following this simple procedure, exploration is open with only warnings to be careful about damaging key systems. It is important to note that there are various security cameras located throughout the correctional facility, and it is not uncommon for D-E-L to comment or show concern for those exploring parts of Del Pascia. ☄ DEATH BECOMES YOU There is salvage to be found in all parts of the facility, including the cell blocks and infirmaries of the prison wings. However, there is something odd about these sectors, a strange charge in the air that follows you as you search for anything useful to bring back to the Moira. Perhaps it is the eyes of D-E-L watching? But then, after an indiscernible amount of time, it's like a switch is flipped. Suddenly, you are wearing your sins where anyone but you can see. For however much death you have wrought or committed, there will be blood on your hands—perhaps even further than that. This bizarre occurrence will appear as an almost digital skin and will not vanish until outside the cell blocks. If exploring the infirmaries for supplies, any and all health stats throughout your life will be visible and easy to read by anyone who happens to take an interest. For those who have killed once or twice, they might find a red stain on their hands, but the higher the kill count will result in larger proportions of blood covering their arms and, in extreme cases, perhaps their entire body. The blood will vanish once you have left the prison wing, though you may occasionally see a flicker of the image while anywhere on the station. The same goes for health stats viewed in infirmary sections of Del Pascia. ☄ WHAT WAS THAT SOUND? Del Pascia is a very large station and has been abandoned for quite some time. D-E-L will regretfully inform anyone who asks that some nonessential areas have fallen into disrepair. It will warn that exploring these areas can be risky as it has no knowledge of what damage these sections have taken. Regardless of that, if you venture in, you’ll find that these sections are in rather bad shape. Exposed wiring sparks in the walls, a great variety of broken tools are thrown about, and it seems that every camera has been purposely broken. Venturing in further will yield valuable components for salvage, and yet... as before, you suspect you aren’t alone. It isn’t often, but sometimes, you might hear a step falling moments after yours or a rattle coming from the vents. Every time you go to investigate... whatever made the noise is gone. Should the AI be queried about this, D-E-L will emphasize that all personnel and prisoners were removed and that there is no one on board except crew from the Moira. ( ooc; For questions, go here. All players, please comment to activity check to receive new ranks (if applicable)! )

Comments

Sans | OTA!

[skelepun]

moira bar;

The start of the month was an exciting time aboard the Moira. New people arriving like clockwork, always with the chance at a familiar face in the mix. That promise brought bustle to the ship, even moreso than there was already. Sans could do without the bustle, if he's being honest, but it's easy to slip off unnoticed with everyone else preoccupied.

If Sans was really lucky, they wouldn't be anchored anywhere. Flying through space has yet to get old. It will eventually, but not yet. Which makes it all the more disappointing when he heard where they'd be staying for who knows how long.

A prison planet. The captains weren't even bothering with subtlety anymore.

"Hey, pal." Sans raises his own glass, turning to whoever's nearby -- be they sitting right next to him or all the way at the end of the bar. Pay no mind to the puddle of alcohol under his stool. "What're you drinking? Next round's on me."

Hopefully it's a new person. Usually he can trick a few of them into thinking he's doing them a favor by 'springing' for booze that already cost nothing.

del pascia cafeteria;

When it comes to work, Sans could take it or leave it -- mostly leave it -- but there was something meditative about scavenging. When he and his brother were younger, they would spend hours sifting through garbage that washed down from the surface into the Waterfall dump.

It became a game, imagining what lives the objects had before they wound up with them. Who made them, who owned them, who threw them away. His brother was always the best at it, but Sans could hold his own. Picking up an old food tray, Sans examines a brown stain. After a few beats of thought, he speaks up, low voice rumbling down the hallway towards anyone nearby. Crew or otherwise.

"What d'ya think this is, Del? Food? Blood?" He waves the tray for emphasis. "Something with two o's and a d, at least, right?"

wildcard!

[Anything you want! Please let me know if you have any ideas you'd like me to make a special top level for. I'd love to make something happen! PP me at safelybeds or PM me at this account.]

del pascia cafeteria;

[redshitlord]

There's actually a yelp, and the sharp clang clang of metal sliding off metal, soon as the skeleton's voice fades. Because someone was also busy scavenging, just outside the cafeteria. And someone wasn't expecting to hear another voice, given how quiet the place generally was.

The clanging would have come from his sword. Which he totally drew in a moment of startled panic, and totally slashed at the nearest shadow.

Whoops.

Sorry, Sans.

oh my god

[skelepun]

Luckily for them both, Sans is very good at dodging.

"Whoa!" Sans shouts, somehow retaining the lazy ease of his voice. The exclamation comes from behind Sideswipe now, with a wheezy chuckle. "Careful with that kid, you could put an eye socket out."

im so sorry sans

[redshitlord]

That is good. In a lot of ways. Mostly for Sans, since Sideswipe would just have guilt the size of Cybertron haunting him forever, and Sans would be dust.

Regardless, he whips the sword back into its clip on his back -- holding up his hands in apology. Or surrender. Something.

"Sorry! S-sorry! Whoooever you are!"

Moira bar

[mttbrandlegs]

Mettaton was actually a decent distance away, sitting at the bar with his legs crossed and spending his time people-watching. Sometimes it was just fun to do that sort of thing, and he was rarely afforded such opportunity in the Underground. After all, he was a star! Stars got attention! Even in the human world, he was getting up there in popularity.

Here though, on the Moira, it was like a completely blank slate. While not necessarily relieving, he does find being able to observe others uninterrupted to be a relaxing activity.

He turned when he heard the offer of a drink, facing the short skeleton with a swivel of his seat. Oh...yeah, he's been watching this one sporadically. Bit dumpy, looks vaguely familiar...and his drinks are creating quite the mess under him. Whether the skeleton notices is questionable. Maybe he's just ignoring it.

Even though Mettaton found it just a little gross, he pushed his opinions away to instead be polite.

"I appreciate the offer, darling, but I'm afraid liquids don't agree with me, so I'll have to decline!"

[skelepun]

It's rare for Sans not to have a keen awareness of his surroundings. Even on his laziest days, taking stock of the faces in his vicinity was usually low impact enough for him to make a point of it. You never knew when you might spot a friend. Or, equally likely, someone with a bone to pick.

Suffice to say, startled is not a look Sans wears often or especially well. And Mettaton, biggest star of the Underground and very dead by Sans' memory, is about to get a good look.

"Wuh... Mettaton?" Sans squints. He's been drinking a lot lately, maybe too much, if he missed that. Inspecting the half empty glass, Sans furrows his brow bone. "What's in this?."

[mttbrandlegs]

Aww, look at how precious~! He thinks he's hallucinating the fabulous robot! Mettaton showily uncrosses his legs and gets to his feet, boots clacking with a steady rhythm as he makes his way closer to Sans. He does stop at the edge of the puddle, of course. Because eww. Still, it's close enough! He can't be mistaken for an illusion now, right?

"I haven't noticed any shady behavior by our server, sweetheart. So in the absence of tomfoolery, we must assume that I am not a vision! I promise you, I'm here!"

He smiles in an understanding manner, leaning on the counter gracefully as he awaits a response, perhaps an accolade or two since someone knows he's popularrrr! Okay, so maybe he does like feeling important. Just a little. Just a lot.

del pascia cafeteria.

[t65]

Luke is has crawled inside a buffet cart to pull the cooling units off the interior. Who knows, he could build himself a minifridge. When he hears someone's voice, he sticks his head and shoulders out a sliding side door.

He tries to think of something that isn't two Os and a D that the smudge could be. "Could be... sauce."

[skelepun]

Of all the places Sans expects a voice to emerge from, a human wedged inside a food cart is not one of them. Still, unfazed, Sans waves the tray in the strangers direction thoughtfully.

"Could be. I'd love to know what kinda sauce isn't food, 'cuz that sounds like something I'd wanna try." With a careless toss, he sends the tray flying over his shoulder where it collides with yet another heap of junk. The mystery of the brown stain is far less interesting than whatever the human is up to.

"Whatcha got there?"

[t65]

"Well," Luke has since popped his head back inside the cart, and so his voice has gained a slight echo, "it could be food for one species, but not another- does that count?"

Like, for example, whatever species this skeleton-looking lifeform is. Luke doesn't pry, doesn't really bat an eyelash-- stranger things have walked in and out of local cantinas-- but it's certainly new.

Luke shuffles a bit, so someone watching could get a clearer view of his salvage. "Trying to dislodge the cooling unit. You can use them to regulate thermal pressure gauges in a pinch."

bar

[meyneth]

This is Fiora's first time visiting the Moira's bar. For her first month, she'd been getting her supply of water from the mess hall, but it became too awkward to sit there doing nothing but drinking water while everyone else was eating. At least the bar is beverage-focused, even if she can't consume any alcohol.

She's sitting by herself with a glass of ice water in front of her when Sans addresses her. The short, stout little skeleton-like creature had not escaped Fiora's attention when she walked in, and having seen plenty of the ship's more unusual crew already, the sight of him hadn't bothered her too much.

But... now it's talking to her. Well, judging from its voice, it's a "he." And he sounds friendly enough. Fiora turns her head to glance over at the skeleton, a stiff, swiveling movement that's reminiscent of an animatronic.

"Just water. Sorry," she says apologetically. God, this one's odd - she tries very hard not to stare. "Although if they've got some kind of posh, expensive water, I wouldn't turn it down."

[skelepun]

"Most expensive water you've got!" Sans instructs the bartender, eyelights gleaming with too much drink. He motions for her to hop a few stools closer, the idea of closing the gap himself not occurring to him. Laziness is a way of life, after all.

"Not a fan of the spirits, huh?" He asks, leaning hard against the bar. "Don't worry, I won't tell any of my ghost pals."

[meyneth]

A few seconds pass, Fiora looking at him with an unchanging expression. Then, she gets it, and bursts into a fit of giggles, hunching over the bar counter and covering her mouth with her metal hand.

"Hah!" she barks out cheerfully after she's composed herself, straightening back up on her stool. Unlike the earlier turn of her head, her body language is fluid now, as natural as any person's.

"That's clever. Spirits, ghosts..."

Grinning, she picks up her glass of water and hops off her seat - the stool is almost too tall for her to sit at - and she sits again beside the little skeleton.

"Thanks for the water. I'm really spooked by anything else."

Barbarbarbarbar

[squadgoals]

Shepard, two stools down, raises her own glass in response, and smiles genially at what seems to be, for all intents and purposes, a skeleton in a hoodie. She'd been sneaking the odd side glance for a while now, watching the puddle on the floor grow (What's the old joke? It just goes right through me!), and wondering if she should mention it to him. But what if that was insensitive? Her curiosity had so far been overridden by the serious concern of a skeleton race faux pas.

The offer to buy the next round struck her as odd, though — she hadn't paid for anything so far, and when she'd inquired about doing so, the implication seemed to be she wasn't expected to. But whatever the skeleton's game was, she was keen to play. Nothing blurred the lines of cultural differences like alcohol, after all.

"Not sure. I've just been asking them to mix their strongest drink with their second strongest drink. It's worked out so far." As if to punctuate the point, Shepard downs the rest of it in one long gulp, replacing the glass on its coaster. "What've you got there? Anything you'd recommend?"

barbara-ann

[skelepun]

"The ketchup is excellent." Sans explains sagely, eye sockets closed in an odd parody of serenity as he raises his own glass and downs it, viscous red sludge pouring down his spine. It's not exactly a pretty picture, something Sans seems all too aware of.

"I don't think I've ever seen you around here before." He offers after a beat, unaware that this isn't the other version of Commander Shepherd he's observed around the ship. This one already seems less buttoned up. Not to mention less unhappy to see him. Maybe a few drinks is what it took to unlock a smile in her.

"Shepherd, right?"

Bartholomew Rex

[squadgoals]

Shepard watches the downward decent of the ketchup with mixed fascination and disgust, with a hearty dash of amusement. Hell of a party trick.

She quirks an eyebrow at her name. Does everyone keep that close an eye on the directory? She wonders idly, giving Sans a proper once-over. There was something about him that made her feel as though she was staring into a black hole. Mysterious? Sucks you in? Drinks ketchup? She mentally shook her head, and physically nodded at Sans instead.

"That's me. Fresh out of the ingress, but if you're a regular here, I think there's a chance you might start seeing me around more often."

Left hand on the stool beside her for support, she reaches across with her right hand outstretched for a handshake. "Nice to meet you, Mr...?"

Del Pascia cafeteria

[whynotgoonmyown]

Tyler had just been looking through some rubble of random objects and broken tables and chairs, trying to find something that could still be of some use. When he hears Sans speaking to the ship, he can't help but speak to himself, although loud enough that Sans can still hear. "Best case scenario, since it's a cafeteria, it's food. But then, this is also a prison, so it could just easily be blood." He then pulled a a tabletop to gets a better look at the inside of the pile. "Nothing with two o's and a d that starts with g either way."

[skelepun]

Laughter comes up unbidden at the Tyler's little twist of wordplay, causing Sans to shrug and toss the dusty tray over his shoulder. It clatters satisfyingly into another pile of junk.

"I can think of a few other o-o-d words that might apply, but they sure aren't sanitary." He grins, flipping up his h-o-o-d, in a decidedly g-o-o-d m-o-o-d. "What brings you here, looking for a snack too?"

[whynotgoonmyown]

"Ah, no, not looking for food here." He really wouldn't trust anything he found to be really edible, resistance to illness or not. "Just looking for anything useful. Might as well be thorough, right?"

He spends another moment looking through the rubble he was on before giving up and backing away from it to turn to Sans. "How about you? Just looking for a snack?"

Cafeteria

[gainedlove]

Frisk had just been passing by outside the cafeteria, but they pause upon hearing Sans calling out. They backtrack and peek their head in the door curiously, a bag of garbage salvage hanging off their shoulder.

"Why would there be blood?" ...the child asks about literally anything in a prison. Oh Frisk, don't ever change.

[skelepun]

Sans is a little surprised to see Frisk running around unattended, though not by much. Toriel or not, Frisk was fiercely independent. Though it's with their mother in mind that he gestures them over, already deciding that his scavenging mission will be a collaborative effort from here on out.

"Nosebleeds." Sans offers, without missing a beat. "Very common among the imprisoned. Nobody really nose why."

del pascia caf /slides goat over

[inruins]

Sans doesn't remain alone for long. Toriel's wanderings of the odd prison station bring her to the cafeteria, mostly out of curiosity opposed to actual salvaging of parts. Somehow she doubts anything useful will be left in the place.

The sight of Sans leaves her... warmer than she expects. The thought is brushed aside when the monster hears his question. Answering for him as she walks forward. "I should hope food. Though your imagination is running wild, I see."

It's more than obvious she's happy to see her friend, even in their current surroundings.

accepts goat happily

[skelepun]

Sans jumps, surprised to see someone other than him and D-E-L here. The familiar voice makes him jump for a wholly different reason, perpetual grin automatically melting into a more voluntary one.

"Hey, T. You looking for a snack, too?"

Del Pascia

[braceforimpact]

Kaworu hasn't seen or spoken to Sans since his very first post to the network, and that probably doesn't count, considering he doesn't even know it was Sans advising him to spend more time around the cargo bay. (Thanks for that, by the way.) He has, however, spoken to another, taller skeleton. On more than one occasion, even.

So the whole 'talking, animate skeleton' thing isn't really novel any more.

Things like situational awareness, however, remain something less than his strong suit.

"Who are you talking to?"

sorry for the delay, busy weekend!

[skelepun]

Without missing a beat, Sans turns and shrugs. There's Moira crew crawling everywhere around this boat. It's hardly a surprise to see one. Frisk's friend, right?

Of course, that kid was friends with everyone.

"The AI aboard this place. You haven't had a chat with 'em yet? They're a real swell pal. Very informative."