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r & r
"Each of us needs to withdraw from the cares which will not withdraw from us."
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.
Having left Amissis-Re behind, tensions among crew members have continued to escalate into ship-wide consequences, and recognizing the need for some separation among those aboard the Moira, the Captains make the unanimous decision to deviate from their present course to a "nearby" planet that is notable for such popular distractions. While it is not a permanent solution, measures are being taken to monitor the crew's morale much more closely. New arrivals will be treated as they always are; yet, now, more than ever, it is important to stress the balance of working together toward their goal of reaching their destination so that everyone will return home.
WELCOME TO COLLECTIVES ASH3 - BF3 - CLF5
The Collective is a paradise resort located far from any other neighboring planets to offer the most leisurely experience possible to its patrons. Artificially created for multiple uses, it is divided into separate locales interconnected with a tubing transport system that is so fast and efficient that it’s like being teleported to the next area. Extensive mapping can be found at various intersecting points to offer some direction, and there are even recognizable adverts from a very familiar stop months before spread out across the Collective. Whether looking to explore or to simply shed the weight of anxiety, there are plenty of opportunities to be found within ASH3, BF3, and CLF5.
All crew members are given a card from the Captains that has an unlimited amount of credits on it. Organized through trade, these allow Moirans access to any of the luxuries that the Collective has to offer aside from the purchase of items considered weapons due to the escalation of recent events. Food, clothes, trinkets, or even a full spa experience—the limits, otherwise, are endless. The Captains emphasize that this is time to relax and take a break from the grind that is living and working on a spaceship as unique as the Moira.
☄ B.E.A.C.H! THE BEST ESCAPE ANYONE CAN HAVE!
For those seeking a fun time, the Collective offers a variety of activities on ASH3. There are multiple beaches to enjoy as well as beachside kiosks offering drinks, beach toys and surf equipment for those a little more sports-minded. The tide washes in beautiful shells to collect, and there are always life-guards on duty to make sure everyone stays safe while enjoying their time on the beach. ASH3 offers a safe and friendly environment with plenty of fun in the sun for everyone. There is also a boardwalk full of restaurants, bars and plenty of games and entertainment for when you want to step off the sand but don’t want to give up being out in the sun.For those who can’t or won’t bear the sun, ASH3 also offers a thriving night life on both beach and boardwalk. There are midnight boat tours to view the bioluminescent schools of fish native to the island and bonfire dance parties that go long into the mornings. On the boardwalk, all shops are open until midnight as well as many clubs and social spots where crew can mingle with other tourists in the area.
So you don’t like the sand. It’s too hot, and it gets everywhere. Then hop onto one of the many transportation systems, slip into some warmer clothes, and take to the slopes. More experienced crew can immediately dive in, but those who need help can take lessons on how to ski or snowboard. There’s hot cocoa, sleds, snowball fights, and the occasional person making a snow angel (or snow person). ASH3 also has areas for rock climbing, sky diving, base jumping, bodyboarding, canoeing, hang gliding, jetskis, mountain biking, hiking, and much more.
☄ WHEN I SHOP, THE WORLD GETS BETTER Not everyone enjoys shopping, but this Collective entices even the most frugal and reluctant into spending their credits here. In fact, the Captains are encouraging this. They give the explicit “order” to buy whatever you want for yourself and your fellow crew members, but more than that, to consider making purchases to better the ship. Is there any area of the Moira that needs spruced up? Maybe some fresh paint in the mess hall,or new furniture in the decks? Maybe some fancy curtains for all those windows on the observation deck, or a few throw pillows? New pots and pans for the kitchen might be something to add to this list as well as equipment for the rec area, or whatever else you think BF3 will have to help increase comfort aboard the Moira.
To enhance your shopping experience, the technology here allows you to try on clothes without lifting a hand. The food here is an unlimited spread of gourmet dining to comfort food and every dessert you can think of. When you’re finished with your purchases, have all your packages and larger items delivered back to the ship for you.
☄ TREAT YO SELF The accommodations on the Collective of CLF5 are as unique as they come. Lodging is available for those who want to sleep in an environment that’s underwater or perhaps those who desire something as simple as a soft bed. No matter what kind of room you want to purchase for the night, it’ll be available here, and the only true limit is the imagination. When you aren’t relaxing in a hotel room, you’ll find that there are numerous spas and hair salons that offer varied services. Gold face masks rejuvenate your skin, the Ever Young™ Spa can make you look ten years younger with one treatment, and the mud baths are known across the universes for making you feel youthful and refreshed. If you’re looking for a new hairstyle or to relax, this Collective is the place for you to spend those hard-earned credits.
( ooc; For questions, go here. Please comment to activity check to receive new ranks (if applicable)! )
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thisavrou_log2016-06-01 12:20 am
Hector Barbossa | Pirates of the Caribbean | 3 Open / 1 Closed
[While there's a hedonistic feel to this place, on the whole, it strikes him as a pale, tame comparison to the pirate-friendly ports back home. There's no brawling, no gunshots ringing out in the middle of the night or middle of day equally. Jades of all stripes and qualities do not linger at the corners of buildings looking to make coin. It is, he surmises, Tortuga in its own way, but scrubbed clean of all which makes it unique in the world. A family-friendly version, one might say.
Even the taverns ('bars', in the local parlance, and he repeats that word mentally to himself a hundred or more times, to cement it and make it his own all the better to assimilate) are too clean, and too friendly. It's not going to stop him from hopping from one to another, of course, but the fact remains that it's both vaguely disappointing and vaguely pleasing to realize he's not sticking to the surface of a table wherever he chooses to sit, from God only knows what (he's never asked questions in the past). Unnervingly clean, yes, but a bit of nervousness he'll allow. There are actual lists (he's not entirely familiar with menus, such as they are - they simply don't exist in his time) of what one can even purchase, and that, he will admit, makes things a bit easier, though he doesn't have a single solitary idea of what the majority of things are. And, with unlimited money and a liver that's used to the abuse he puts it through daily, the plan is to get through as much of it as he can in one spot, before moving on to the next.
He is not, after all, going to pass on that chance.
But there he is, blissfully unaware, of course, that anyone from home might be present as well. Why should they be? And even if they were, in the clothes and boots he has seen to purchasing right off, and without his trademark bits, who would know? No one, that's who. But it's the least of concerns on his mind, as he picks a random item and decides to just simply go with it, where he sits at the bar.]
unlimited money? okay, that seems fake, but okay [ota];
[Saying Hector Barbossa is suspicious of being given unlimited funds to run wild in what appears to be space's equivalent of Tortuga would be a massive understatement. He is suspicious, heavily so, because who would ever consider that. Who could ever do that. There's a catch there somewhere, of that he's sure.
That doesn't mean, of course, that he's not going to blow through as much of it as he can while he has the chance. Pirates, such as himself, have a kind of...Policy, when it comes to large sums of money. He knows, of course, to tuck some away for a rainy day, and back home he's done exactly that, for the day he's set to retire, but on the whole, the idea is completely "you can't take it with you", and no one can spend money like it's water the way a pirate can spend money.
He's been observing this lot since arriving a hot minute ago and being put through the torturous procedure of being poked and prodded like some beast for sale, and one thing he's come to learn is that no one, as far as clothing goes, looks like he does. His hat, the bandanna, the earring, the frock coat...All of it is painfully out of place, pointing him out even in a crowd, and that is really the exact opposite of what he wishes to accomplish.
So while he certainly does hit every single shop he stumbles across, and he certainly does buy what he wants, at the first, his main focus is on clothing. All the better to blend in with, though it's certainly not as easy as commissioning a waistcoat and frock coat and going about one's business. It's not even as easy as trusting a tailor's opinion, especially concerning his height. No, he has to figure this shit out himself.
He's done alright, with the addition of boots that are too short for his tastes, only reaching to mid-calf and lacing up the front (which is frankly unheard of), but the truth is: It's overwhelming, to a small degree. Having never been faced with options before, besides what cut is most popular - British or Continental - he's more than a bit frustrated. Especially with the idea that everyone he's observed has entirely too much clothing. He's never owned more than one or two spare changes in his life, but when in Rome with Rome picking up the tab...
He's ditched his hat and bandanna and earring especially, and feels painfully naked without them. And he looks awkward, but that's not going to stop him.
Someone please come save him from himself.]
local fish in great mood today [ota];
It's more of a whim than anything that gets him on the midnight boat trip to see...Well, he's not entirely sure what he's off to see, but the feel of water under a deck (the wrong kind of deck, true, but a deck all the same) is familiar. Grounding. He can unconsciously shift his weight with the water and it soothes the uneasiness that's been sitting like a ball in the pit of his stomach since the first of this, because it's something he knows, and knows well. He's spent entirely too much of his five decades tramping about the world on water to ever feel completely at home on solid land.
And, of course, it might partially have something to do with the massive hangover still lingering from that stupid jaunt with Jack Sparrow. Either way.
But he's here all the same, on this boat in the middle of the night (and lights, oh how the lights bother him - deck lights out by eight of the clock and no later, all drinking on open deck after), off to see something he hasn't even paid attention to (because he's not missing a chance to be on water again - who knows when it might come round once more), but when he does, he's not exactly awestruck, no, as he's seen tides that sparkle with lights from within, and in hard times when fishing has been the only source of a meal the nets have pulled up some strange, unexplainable creatures that light up and gasp and tremble and die, being taken from their home in the deep, but he's never said lights of that nature in the dark water aren't a pretty sight. They are, but perhaps not as alien as they should be, considering where he is.]
Bit like Maldiva. If I wanted to see unnatural fish, I could do that at home, couldn't I.
[And, alright, it's more a comment to himself, simply said aloud, but it's true. He's seen it before on the good and natural earth, and he certainly doesn't need to delve into the depths of space to find the strange and unusual.]
choose your own pirate adventure [ota];
[Or pick something else! Hector's going to be practically everywhere over the time spent here, so you can find him hiking, perhaps (and maybe grouchy at being bothered), he's going to definitely get an underwater hotel room at some point (and then not sleep because it's unnatural), unwittingly wander into the spa and come out...Well, not changed very much (he might be less grizzled and the lines in his face a little less deep)...You might can even talk him into skydiving. Sky's literally the limit on what he'll actually do. Come expose him to things he's never seen before.]
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And as a passenger on board said ship? His job is to spend money, get wasted, and find someone to get him laid. The unlimited credits go a long way for getting that done.
He'd already spent some money on a fair bit of things, including the clothes he's wearing as he walks into the tavern. He'd been to a couple of taverns thus far, buying entire bottles of rum for him to save up in case there ever becomes a deficit on board their new ship. But this time, he orders a drink for himself to indulge in, ready to embark on the part of the process that involves getting drunk.
There are many drinks he hadn't heard of, on the "menu" of things to buy. Normally, he'd stick to rum (because honestly -- there is no going wrong with rum), but with enough money to play around and no plans for the afternoon, he decides to be adventurous, likewise picking a drink at random.
But as he turns to take a seat (the tavern was quiet, no loud laughing, no bar fights, no bottles breaking, no band playing. It's calm and clean and the bartender was nice and Jack has never been more unnerved in his life), his eyes briefly scan over the crowd. No one from the Black Pearl had been there when he arrived, and Jack doesn't expect that to have changed in the time it took for him to arrive at the bar. And to enforce that belief, there's no one in familiar 18th Century garb sitting around the bar, and it's for that reason that he almost misses Hector.
Almost.
It's the beard that gives it away, that damn scraggly beard that makes Jack do a double take. He squints his eyes, just to ensure that what he's seeing is real before he breaks out into a large grin. ]
Hector!
[ His voice is loud in the quiet of the tavern, but Jack pays it no heed as he moves swiftly and suavely towards his fellow captain, drink in hand. His voice might be happy and excited, his smile bring and sunny but deep inside, he's groaning loudly. Trapped in a strange place and the only one he knows is Hector Barbossa.
To say he's displeased is an understatement. ]
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Absolutely fine.
That is, until that peace and quiet comes to a screeching, vicious halt, strong enough to give him mental whiplash. Because he knows that voice. He know that voice, and he knows that inflection, and he knows that emphasis on his given name (that no one - no one - but one single person in the entire world would ever dare use so easily), and for a moment he honestly considers pretending he simply hasn't heard. A ridiculous idea, really, given the volume of Jack Sparrow's voice, but he turns that idea over in his mind all the same. Perhaps this is all just a fever dream, and if he ignores Jack, Jack will go away. Futile. Pointless. But a man must have something to cling to or he loses hope entirely.
But despite the mental weighing and considering of such options, he knows that's something that is most likely not to be. Jack, unfortunately, has a habit of making his presence known even when you wish most ardently he'll drop off the face of the earth, and while, true, he perhaps isn't the absolute worst option out of the long list of people Hector Barbossa knows, it's a very near thing.
But, barring ignoring Jack's existence entirely, he does the next best thing. And that next best thing is to look up, pretend to be surprised, and then smile right back like there's nothing more in the world he wants than a conversation with Jack. If this is going to be Jack's game, well...Hector Barbossa can more than meet him at it on a level playing field.]
Jack Sparrow. [There's an unwarranted emphasis on Jack's first name, where Hector perhaps drags the a out a bit longer than necessary.] Can't say I expected to see you here, mate.
[And while his smile is just as sunny as Jack's, his voice as cheerful, the truth is he's bemoaning his fate inwardly as much or moreso than Jack.]
local fish.
[Meditating, why not. This is as good a place as any, and a Jedi should always be able to reliably clear their mind, no matter the setting. And this little patch of time, on a beautiful warm planet with so much light and color and life to it, seems like an ideal place to practice clearing his mind of distraction. He sets the oars aside, and begins the meditate.]
[The Force is strong here; Luke thinks it might be strong everywhere, and the idea that it's weak or less present in other places is some kind of illusion he needs to learn to look past. He looks past it now, and strength and peace ripples through him. Curious fish rising to the surface are slowly lifted out of the water, along with bits of seaweed. His boat stills. The tide around his little boat seems to calm.]
[It all comes crashing down when he hears someone speak. The tide crashes back, fish fall plummet into the sea, and Luke looks up wide-eyed at his new companion.]
Oh! Hello, there! [Smiling broadly as he rocks back in forth.] You startled me- what were you saying?
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Oh, how he sometimes longs for the days when he was nothing more than a simple pirate captain, with a simple pirate crew, who did simple pirate things like capturing ships and blowing what the earned in port towns specifically geared for that activity, and the only thing he'd ever seen behind the veil was his mother's cunning work as a lad.
Sometimes he really, really does.
But more to the present, as a man who has seen plenty and learned to keep his mouth shut when he does, and not to ask too many questions (because asking questions gets you dragged in, and then where are you but in the middle of someone else's mess), he is, of course, not stupid enough to chalk it up to a trick of the light, but not stupid enough to point it out, either.]
Just talking to meself, is all. [At least his tone is as calm as it can be.] Reminds me of a little patch of islands back home. Nothin' more.
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[He looks around with a pleased expression.] You have islands on your planet? That sounds wonderful. Is it all like this? [What are multi-biome planets.]
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But he is, at least, in a fair enough mood to somewhat explain himself. To a degree.]
No. [Which is a fairly simplistic answer for a man known for loving to hear himself talk.] Some parts be bitter cold, others naught but desert. Can't tell you much about those, I stay as little as possible when I find meself there.
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fishy
When that doesn't happen, she tries to relax enough to make her way over to peer out into the ocean, taking in the sight of the fish. They're not as impressive as she was thinking they might be, and from the sound of the guy next to her, he's thinking the same thing. So she glances over at him, trying to decide if she should say anything back to him or not. Socializing really isn't her thing.]
I don't know anything about where you're from. What kind of unnatural fish are there?
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But where's the harm, really? Naming a place in the back of beyond doesn't necessarily give any tidbits about himself, does it?]
Maldiva Islands. They be sou' by sou'west of India. [Of course, from what he's gathered with other folks in their situation, that could mean absolutely nothing to her and is just entirely wasted breath.]
You find all sorts of strange fish and the like washed up on the beach, especially after a particularly nasty storm. No names for any of them, but things straight out of Hell's worst nightmares, I'd imagine.
Unlimited money
He doesn't say anything yet though, instead just, you know. Doing his own clothes shopping, checking out some neat tank tops that made proper way for his "special" shoulders, but oh man.
Oh man, he can't let this continue any longer. Please don't buy anymore neutral-colored suits with those terrible patterns. LET HIM SAVE YOU.
Ready or not, Hector, here comes the glambot.]
Darling, you look rather out-of-place around here!! The effort so far is certainly to be lauded, but maybe I can offer you some assistance~? Particularly when it comes to, ah, fashion choices!
[Man, you need it. That, and perhaps a bath and a good shampoo. And a shave. Yeesh.]
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But he, unlike other pirates he knows well (and no, in this instance, Jack Sparrow does not cross his mind, but instead a particular French bastard with an awful powdered wig), does not see clothing as much of a show of vanity, and while his own, comfortable clothing is well worn, it is also well made, though heavily understated in comparison. And he is drawn to the more muted colors, as they tend to be forgettable. Exactly what he wants.
But at the Darling (which already has his hackles raising), he looks up and-
What the fuck.
He is, of course, coming to grips with the realization that everyone is not, as he is, a normal flesh and blood human of no intrinsic interest beyond what they can offer. But what he hasn't quite gotten a handle on is the sheer variety.]
Assistance. [His tone is absolutely flat.] I'm assuming from...You. [With an added incredulous look, because...Seriously.] So you find something objectionable, do you.
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Guess who doesn't care~? This guy right here, the one made of metal and magic and apparently a great deal of self-confidence that he could dress this poor old man better than he could dress himself.
The look he's given is unfortunately common amongst the crew of the Moira. Usually it's the flashy pink boots or something, but given the dated outfit that the human had been wearing prior to his ghastly purchases, Mettaton assumes that it's a chronological discrepancy. Though much more than simply the one between himself and Toriel.]
As a matter of fact, yes! I do find your choices objectionable! The colors, of course, though if that is your aesthetic, I'm sure that we can still do better than...goodness, is that tweed? Tell me it isn't so!!
[Hector would probably find Mettaton to lean a bit far on the side of dramatic...but Mettaton's heart is in the right place!! Metaphorically speaking, anyway, because well. He sort of has a heart in his abdomen and that is not really the right place he's speaking from.]
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In fact, he doesn't think he's ever been so absolutely flabbergasted at the opinion of a stranger - and a really weird looking one that that - in his entire life, and...That face. It says that, too.
And yeah, he's pretty sure this is entirely too dramatic over some clothes that, otherwise, he can't find a single thing wrong with, beyond being too close-fitting, and without nearly enough layering.]
Ah, I see. [No, he doesn't. Doesn't care, either, really. Which is why:] And I suppose, then, I'm supposed to be caring about your opinion between tweed and something else.
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Well. He'd changed out of that clothing, to be fair. Shame, Mettaton rather liked the hat. The feather appealed to his peacock nature, alright?]
Well you should, but judging by your tone, I'm assuming that it'll be hard to lead this horse to water!! Really, it wouldn't be any trouble at all, and we've got nothing but time here anyway! What could it hurt at all to take a suggestion or two?
[You're going to have to spell it out, buddy. Because he thinks your choices are a travesty and he's not taking your frump as a no.]
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let's look at some fishes
She's not really paying much attention to the fellow next to her--or...anything, really; what can honestly compare to the feel of the sea after five long months without it?--but some of what he murmured to himself trickled in. The place sounded familiar, but what's this about the fish?
Opening her eyes and actually looking at the water instead of basking in the feel of it, Jacky did a double take.]
Blimey. [Seeing the flickers of light in the waves took her back. Grinning she elbowed the man.] Yeah, but it's still amazing, innit? Here we are, on a whole other planet, sailing through the heavens themselves, and there are still little fishes that flicker and glow in the moonlight.
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Aye, but I'd say the law of averages be as in favor of us finding that which we're already familiar with than that which be strange. And this place has enough of both to be getting on with.
[For instance, he's had his first 'soft drink' today, and that, he decides, is something he can absolutely live without. Entirely too bubbly (he sneezed), entirely too sweet, and the most unnatural colors he's ever seen. So finding glowing fish on a planet who knows how far from Earth is simply the point to balance it out.]
what not to wear
She kept to her leggings, yet she opted for a loose sleeveless shirt, exposing her prosthetic fully to her shoulder. Q-11, her robotic greyhound, was a mere two paces ahead of her at all times.
The thief had been minding her business, mostly, as much as any nosy, paranoid person could mind their own business, when a man came into her view, one that seemed somehow out of place. Well, that, and somehow incredibly awkward.]
Are you alright?
[Isha's not too sure if she actually cares. Yet with this level of disaster waiting to happen, all she could do was mitigate it, maybe even stop a wreck altogether. Not a saint, no, just a woman whose taste level makes her a little more of an expert here.]
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Mostly. Truth be told, he simply doesn't get it. It's not so much the picking and choosing for himself, it's obvious from what he's already chosen, he's going to be forever drawn to cuts and styles that are more like those familiar to him. But it's more the fact that who really needs more than one or two changes of clothes? Perhaps it's just the time he's from. Perhaps it's more than he's used to extremely cramped quarters where every square inch of space counts, and he has more important things to worry about than a new frock coat or a new pair of boots.
But at the voice he looks up. Sees her. Sees the metal dog(???!!???). And debates whether answering is going to be more harm than help at this point.
Nosy and paranoid, be greeted by a considering stare from reticent and paranoid.]
I'm assuming that's not a rhetorical question.
lmk if you wanna go to overflow!
[Some part of her is not entirely surprised by the gruff voice, but there's at least some vague comfort in the familiarity of the British accent.]
Which will lead me to believe you either don't want to admit it or simply refuse to answer any question directed at you.
[There could never be an in-between. The nuances of the why would be there, of course, yet unanswered questions lent themselves to a handful of broad reasons. This one was one of the two aforementioned.
If only she had someone to bet with on this...]
But please, do continue in seeming as if you have always been a tourist.
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local fish in great mood today
They're not unnatural, darling. They're perfectly suited to their environment! They're far more natural than you, at least in this context.
[ Jay realises that might've been rude and pauses. And then he decides he doesn't care all that much. He grins. ]
But they are fascinating. I've not seen their like outside of a jar of formaldehyde!
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They're fish. [His tone, however, once he reigns that temper back under control, is even, if a bit on the flat side of the spectrum, and entirely unimpressed. It says, quite clearly, that he finds them to be about as fascinating as drying paint.] If I wanted to see this, could have stayed right meself at home, couldn't I? Aye. So forgive me if I find meself underwhelmed by this opportunity to stare at naught but fish.