( 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

Mero Deck!

[skelepun]

[Stepping free from his brother's room, Sans stretches. Papyrus wasn't there, of course, but far be it from Sans to make a trip this far without catching a few Z's for his trouble. That rest out of the way, Sans looks practically spirited by his standards.

Which, in this case, means that the dark circles under his eye sockets are just a hair less pronounced.

Opting for the scenic route for once, Sans lopes down the Mero deck halls. A few crew members leave their doors open from time to time, and the sight inside is always informative. It's incredible how clean people can be. Some might view it as a habit to aspire to, but the sight of it just makes Sans pine for another nap.

There's a risk that comes with peeping into other people's rooms, though. Namely, getting noticed. And when Sans crosses room twenty-one, he makes the critical mistake of locking eyes with the woman inside.

Eye contact. Now there's a killer. You'd think not having any eyes would make the whole process a lot harder to fall into accidentally, but here he was. Sans raises a hand, either in greeting or apology or both.]

Uh... hey there.

[hostessing]

[ There is a walking skeleton outside her door.

There is a walking skeleton right there.

Manners take a backseat as she stares, mouth slightly agape. She had run into those who appeared to be heavily genetically modified--an advent she didn't understand with the galactics of her Nexus--but this? Was either modifications gone too far or common where... it? is from.

Vor etiquette never covered the proper greeting for a skeleton like Sans and she's slow to feel out the procedure herself. Eventually she manages to stop staring (and gaping) and cautiously walks towards him.

She manages to get her name out in greeting, ] Lady Alys Vorpatril. Are you a fellow crew member?

sorry for the delay, busy weekend!

[skelepun]

[The balking and nerves are commonplace by now, especially among newbies, and Sans hardly has it in him to take offense. She's human, after all. That's just how humans are.

If anything, Sans gives her a few points. She's handling herself pretty well, not that he was ever much for titles and formality.]

Yep, got it in one. [Feeling more at ease already, Sans extends a hand towards her -- fingers strategically angled away from hers. If she accepts it, the resulting noise will be... well, Sans likes to think of it as an ice breaker. One that's always funny.] Name's Sans. You new?

no worries!

[hostessing]

[ Ah. Another person that shakes hands. It's becoming a slightly more common gesture to her though her reflexes aren't there to quickly accept it. ]

Yes, I arrived only-- [ It's here that her hand makes contact with his bones. And whoopie cushion. The sound seems louder in the following silence as she draws her hand away and stares at his.

Well at least it's not a weapon. Even if it is in poor taste. ]

[skelepun]

[Sans' grin seems to take on two sizes, beaming up at the taller woman. It's as delighted as he ever gets, perpetually tired eye sockets taking on a fresh spark of mirth.]

C'mon, not even a smile? That one's always funny. [He tucks his hand back into his pocket, still chuckling.] I like my ice broken.

[hostessing]

[ At least he's cheerful and she can tell he means no physical harm. Well. As cheerful as a skull can look. It's eerie to have that staring back at her, grinning.

She manages a small smile and interest in whatever had caused that strange sound. ] What was that in your hand?

[skelepun]

My favorite greeting. [Sans explains, without explaining, waving the little mechanism in Aly's direction.] Very traditional. We're a proud people, skeletons.

Anyway, all this formality made me miss your name. [To keep up the joke, Sans bows low. His spine cracks loudly in the process.] You are...?

[hostessing]

[ The mechanism is hardly familiar to her though she knows a childish prank when she sees it and fixes him with a disapproving look. 'Proud people' indeed.

She repeats, ] Lady Alys Vorpatril. And you're Sans?

[skelepun]

And I'm Sans. [He repeats back, apparently unfazed by the look. If anything, he appears to be enjoying it.] Settling in well?

[hostessing]

As well as can be expected. [ Which is the truth. She watches him a moment and decides she may as well ask, given how informal their conversation has already begun. ]

Is this a common look on your planet?

[skelepun]

What, the uniform? [Willful misinterpretation is Sans' favorite kind. He gestures to his threads indulgently.] Nah, that's something I picked up around here. If you're talking about the hoodie, I live in a place where it's always snowy. I don't strictly need to bundle up, but y'know. When in Rome, do as those with skin do.

How 'bout you? [He gestures to her look.] Always that fancy?

[hostessing]

[ The misinterpretation doesn't go unnoticed, but she has an odd feeling this 'Sans' doesn't care. She'll take that as a "yes this is normal where I'm from." ]

Preferably, though the ship hasn't seen fit to supply me with anything else beyond the uniforms.

[skelepun]

And they're not going to. Best you're gonna get is a boutique, if we ever land on a non-deserted planet again. Speaking of. Yours got a name?

[He grins, knocking on the doorframe.]

Your planet I mean.

[hostessing]

I'm from Barrayar. [ Whether or not that name will mean anything to him depends entirely on if the boys have met him first. Either way, her focus is more on the first thing he said. ]

Are there really no alternatives for clothing here?

[skelepun]

[As it happens...]

Wait, really? No joke? [Grin widening by degrees, Sans looks suddenly that much more interested in this conversation.] We'll get back to the clothing and how you're stuck with the jumpsuit in a second, you're really from Barrayar?

[hostessing]

[ She is entirely sure she does not like that look on a skeleton and takes up a more guarded posture. ]

Yes, I am. I'm assuming you've met some of the others from there? [ Whether that's good or bad is yet to be seen. ]

[skelepun]

Uh, a few, yeah. [How exactly do you describe them? A few words come to mind, but this woman is clearly very proper and even he's got some manners. Some.] One tall, dark, n' handsome... one not really any of those things. You probably don't know 'em.

[What are the odds, right? From what Sans could tell, human civilizations were a lot more densely populated than the kingdom he lived in.]

[hostessing]

[ The second description is easier to place, the first could fit either her son or foster-nephew. She hazards a guess that he means her son. ] Ivan and Miles? Are you a friend of theirs?

[ She is sincerely hoping not. Sans isn't on the list of trusted acquaintances given to her by Gregor. ]

[skelepun]

[In fairness, Sans likely isn't on any list with the word 'Trusted' at the top of it.]

Eh, friends is selling it a little hard, but I rattle my bones their way on occasion. They're good kids.

You've already met 'em, huh?

[hostessing]

You could say that. One's my son and the other is my nephew.

[ As much as she can know them when they're only two in her timeline, but close enough. ]

[skelepun]

[That's enough to startle a laugh out of Sans. No way.]

Holy crap. Which one's which?

[hostessing]

[ It's sad that by the laughter she's not sure which one is more funny. She's met both of the men as adults. To her credit she keeps her tone level and calm in face of the laughter, ]

Ivan is my son.

[skelepun]

Wow. [Sand nearly goes to shake her hand again before abstaining. That bridge is in cinders by now. Instead, he props his hands on his hips, as if both baffled and delighted all at once.] Well, that wasn't my guess.

Your son's a real treasure, ma'am.

[hostessing]

[ Wise choice, though she looks slightly confused. ] You thought Miles was my son?

[ Her son being a 'treasure' is something she can come back to later, if needed. ]

[skelepun]

Well, he's a pretty upstanding guy. [That was one of his subtler jokes, hopefully Alys wouldn't take it as a dig.] And you seem like a pretty upstanding lady, so.