E
V
E
N
T
L
O
G
|
the lucid disparity
"Never be the first to arrive or the last to go, and never, ever be both."
After several weeks of moving through the Luminous Sea, the Moira has nearly reached the edge of this illustrious place within the Runoff, and things are finally beginning to shift back into their normal state of being. Shiplife has returned to a somewhat regular pace as job changes have taken effect, and there is a peaceful sort of silence throughout the crew that hasn’t existed on board in over a month. However, as most things do on this journey, this much needed break does not last long.
Once the Moira exits the outer ring of the Luminous Sea, all internal functions immediately begin to shut down. Permanently. Unlike before, this loss of power careens the entire ship forward and initiates emergency functions and evacuation procedures. All MIDs alert each crewmember of safety protocols to follow with an alarm, designating appropriate evacuation points as well as the nearest spacesuits as per the Emergency Mode function. Basic life support systems (artificial gravity, oxygen, etc.) will last only as long as the backup stores of solar energy from the wings lasts—which, considering the Moira’s size, is about two hours maximum. Communications within the ship are fractured, but they still work enough for brief contact. Captain Ira sends a brief message to the crew alerting them of what he suspects to be the cause of the problem: the Moira’s internal core has begun an unintended reboot. (Anyone in contact with Navigator Manasseh will find her unresponsive, and if found on the Directory, her status will be listed as RED.) Unfortunately, neither the Captain, prior Captains, or First Mate have time to attempt any further explanation. Without any guidance and essentially free-falling through space, the Moira is at the mercy of the gravitational pull of the nearest celestial body. It appears that it is time to temporarily abandon ship.
WELCOME TO ? ? ? ? ?
With enough impact to shake everything around it, the Moira crashes into the waters of this unknown place. Those lucky enough to have reached the EEUs will find their landing to be somewhat more gentle, though the dispersion of the Emergency Escape Units may leave some crew scattered farther from the ship than others. Yet, regardless of where anyone lands in this seemingly endless ocean, there is only one place to navigate towards: a single island. The sun is warm on this planet, almost tropical, and the air is breathable. There is no detection of life just on the shore of this island, which is where Captain Ira and First Mate Egan direct any and all crew within range. Staying on the Moira, at this point, is not a possibility, but those within jobs of repair will be asked to assist in restoring all necessary functions as they wait for its systems to reboot themselves. Those in cryo in the Medbay are moved to the beach, where Captain Thán will remain with them as the rest of the crew moves further inland to explore.
☄ IN THE JUNGLE YOU MUST WAIT
While some crew remain behind on the beach with the Moira, others are more likely to begin a search for resources, supplies, and other living beings on the island. Eventually, the sand and water give way to a thick, dense jungle with various types of natural flora and rather vivid plant life. What might seem strange, however, is the fact there seems to be no animals to speak of. The jungle, while rather beautiful to look at, remains eerily quiet. Almost too quiet. As you walk, it’s easier to hear your own thoughts, and the further in you move, the easier it is to notice how quickly those bright colors begin to disappear into a thick mist that’s forming around your feet. With each step forward along a surprisingly well-traveled path, the fog continues to grow until it’s impossible to see anything in front of you. Hopefully, you were smart enough to travel with another crewmember because getting lost in this fog can leave you wandering for hours or days. Perhaps even forever. Take hold of the person with you and continue pushing forward on the path. Or turn back. Ultimately, either choice will lead to a safer place than stepping off and getting lost in the mist.
☄ THE FLOWER RIPENS WITHIN ITS PLACE Clearing the jungle and the fog that has thickened with every forward step appeared to be a never ending task, but the sheer beauty of the massive stone buildings carved into the mountainside that looms up above are breathtaking once you reach the opposite side of the mist, light reflecting off marblesque pillars and a stained glass dome. Up the steps leads crew members to a flat and open courtyard where the hosts - averaging between five and six feet tall and green with bright colors - of this world offer food and shelter in exchange for one thing: step into one of the small changing rooms and bathe and dress in the finest that they have to offer. Clothing and jewelry are offered after you are bathed in scented water, and then, you are led back into the courtyard to wait for everyone else to be ready. All crew members are shone equal attention. Robots are buffed until they gleam, AI’s are offered temporary forms or any manner of upgrade they’d like, and any immediate need will be met without hesitation.
☄ WHEN STARTED, WHERE DOES IT MORALLY END Once everyone is clean and dressed in fresh clothes provided by the natives, it’s time for the real festivities to start. The hosts are more than generous as they lay out an elaborate feast of local foods that are much too tempting to say no to. Drinks are served liberally, and no cup remains empty for long. (You might even wonder if the cup magically refills itself as there is no bottom to be seen.) There is something to suit every taste, and a request need only be made once before one of the natives goes off to fulfill it. As the feast continues, you will begin to hear music. The natives live to celebrate and encourage their visitors to do the same. Their worries can be forgotten for the night in favor of losing themselves to simpler pleasures. Indulgences do not stop at food, drink and dancing either. Cards and dice sets are brought out for those who wish to test their luck, and there are several natives who would happily engage in physical competition with the crew to see who might come out on top. And for those with something else on their minds… there is space set aside for anyone who wishes to have a bit of private time with another. Still, what’s stranger than all of this generosity for nothing is the compulsion to participate in these activities.
There is literally no limit, and while moments of hesitation or questions are normal, it’s near impossible to deny those wants. Indulge, and let all of your worries melt away. Hours become days becomes nights, and those nights never end.
☄ NOW STRING THEM TOGETHER AND ANSWER ME THIS Throughout the entire building, there is only one room that has a guard set before it. Anyone who approaches is given the same riddle to answer as follows: It's always there, just beyond your reach. Stuck between lands and skies and seas. It sets. You may go towards it, yet distant it will forever rest. There is no punishment for failing to answer except that the door remains shut. For those who answer correctly, the guard stands aside as the door slides open. The room behind it is transcendent, and most beautiful of all is the pool that rests in the center. The waters seem to have their own faint glow that casts a soft light on the ornately carved walls of the chamber. Any who choose to enter its waters will find that any issues they are struggling with are no longer so troublesome. The mind finds clarity, and problems that appeared insurmountable before now feel like they can be easily conquered.
(This prompt comes with some rules. Please read the OOC event plotting post before doing anything with it.)
( ooc; For questions, go here. Please comment to activity check to receive new ranks (if applicable)! )
|
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hownkai) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-09-02 09:31 pm
no subject
Still, he hasn't let that very detail define who he is or who they are to each other, and maybe, once, it might have mattered in some way. But after everything that's happened to them and between them, after how narrow their worlds have become despite the expanse of this universe and all those unexplored horizons, nothing like that could ever deter him from wanting to be closer to him. Steve wants so much, too much, and he can't do that to Bucky when he's still trying to sort out all those things that sit in his head. Asking isn't the same as seeing that this is his choice, though there had been no pressure when they'd kissed or how Bucky had sought to return the desperate press of their mouths, and he can't understand why that doesn't bother him so much as thinking that Bucky might be making the wrong choice by choosing him.
Are they good for each other? Is he good for him? Would he lead him down the same road he's already traveled if they stay together? It's that worry alone that stays him, searching his face for any sign that might help him decide. As comfortable as he feels from the drinking and dancing, he's never been entirely free to show Bucky the weaknesses that break him down each and every day. He doesn't deserve to carry that weight when he's been through so much. ]
I'm happy. [ His smile is so heavy that it almost hurts to say those words. They're not a lie, not exactly. It's just a twisted sort of honesty that slips free. ] There are so many things I've got here I would have never had back home. All the people I care about-- [ Minus one or two, but his heart is still Brooklyn, and under that, his life is Bucky's. ] I want that for you too. So... tell me what I need to do.
[ If he got on his knees, would that seal the implication of how much this means to him? He feels it, weak and crumbling, and when he leans into him, he lets their foreheads rest together again and sinks into the weight of his hand against his cheek. Simple. So, so simple. Steve breathes out, feels the tremble of it in his voice as he speaks. ]
I know you never needed me to, even back then, but let me do the fighting now. You don't have to do that anymore.
no subject
[ Bucky asks quietly, his hand on his cheek as he studies him with a longing he can't hide, a burning knowledge that he can never have him the way he's discovered he wants. There's so much between them, all the things that were normally left unspoken, all the things that are coming to the fore now, things that they never would have said to each other. He's not sure if that's a good or a bad thing, but what he knows is this: Steve Rogers is broken somewhere inside, and the weight on his shoulders has never been more obvious.
Are they good for each other? How can they ever know? There's a part of him still that would follow him to the ends of the earth, straight into hell and back -- and he will do it again, again and again because it's an instinct that's bred into his DNA, his very being. It wars with his own current desire to put distance between them because he ought to, because he doesn't know what the hell he is now and the best thing to do is to figure it out, to have room to breathe and learn how to be himself (whoever, whatever it may be) again.
But Steve makes him feel human, makes him feel too many things he has no business feeling, and he grasps the back of his neck to keep him close, feeling something in his chest twist and ache, the desire still thrumming under his skin, the need to indulge to kiss him again something that he fights to set aside, if only for the moment. Steve smiles at him and his heart aches; he's sadder, older, so much more worn down -- the Bucky of old would have hated to see him like this, he would have been horrified, fiercely protective, and he would have done whatever it took to lighten the burden.
Hell, he'd probably take it on right with him, because it's the two of them against the world, right? His life has been so deeply entrenched and entwined with Steve Rogers for so long that it's impossible to imagine otherwise. Even in his isolation Bucky has filled pages on Steve, carefully keeping aside a cut-out from a brochure at the Smithsonian. Steve is pressed so close, and their noses bump as Bucky finally looks him in the eye, quietly moved by his words, warmed by Steve's love for him. Let me do the fighting now.
He doesn't deserve one iota of it, not as he is now, and he wonders if this is Steve's love or guilt that makes him this promise.
Does it matter? Bucky is so tired, weary of everything, and he leans quietly against Steve, the one precious thing in his life that's left largely intact. ] Because I want you to forgive yourself. [ He musters the smallest of smiles, his words soft and wry. ] I know it's gonna be hard, with all that Catholic guilt. But I need you to do that. For me.
no subject
If he moves now, Bucky moves. If he runs or jumps or throws himself down, Bucky would do the same. It isn't fair to ask something of him that would never come to be, and yet... Yet, maybe it's not about that. He can live with his guilt, as much as it tears him apart and always will. He only wishes Bucky could see what Steve sees when he looks at him—someone worth the stars and moons and every last planet with a speck of light on it. His whole world stands right before him, reaching out to pull him back to a place he should have never left.
And he can't help it either, the gross sound that leaves him that's somewhere between a cough and a laugh. He doesn't want to think about that, about what lies away from this party and the solid warmth of Bucky's company, but he is anyway. ]
You know I can't promise you that, Bucky. [ As much as he wants to. As much as he wishes he could. ] But we can start here and see where it goes. If that's something you'd want to do. [ And Steve is close again, touching him again. His eyes have drifted lower as he watches the way his own hand cups Bucky's face, lets his thumb briefly touch the tender curve of his bottom lip. ] Pretty sure I think that's something I could give my best guy.
no subject
[ Bucky says quietly, the heat of the moment makes him loose-tongued and reckless, indulgent -- this is where he can say what he's always wanted to say, with more honesty than he can remember having. He wants to do this; he doesn't serve a soul when he hides what he really wants to say, and Steve's words warm him the way nothing else ever did since he first went into the ice, watching as the glass cobwebbed with frost and white nothingness.
Steve makes him come alive again, makes him feel human and everything that comes with it. He's the chink in his armor, the one weakness that Bucky holds close to his heart. But he's also the source of his strength, this man who he's loved long before he knew what love was. He swallows hard and thinks of all the time they've lost, how their love has spanned a century, almost; how they had lost each other and come back here again.
He's the one man that Bucky would trade anything in for, the light in the darkness, and one of the most powerful reasons why he gets up and out of that bed every morning. Steve is stronger than his own guilt, and he can't help feeling his breath catch when the blond, his best friend, his best guy, looks at him like he's the most important person in the world. They're two halves of a whole, and he feels a weight off him when Steve makes that sound, when he makes him a promise that they can start here, right now, and see how it turns out for them.
Won't that be something?
Then he calls him his best guy and Bucky presses a soft kiss to the pad of his thumb, something tender, something rare, and if that isn't Bucky's explicit approval he doesn't know what else will be. They can start over, and maybe, just maybe, Bucky can believe in that. He wants to be close to Steve, even if he knows he's not worthy of any of it; he's done too many terrible things to deserve the happiness that he knows now lies in Steve Rogers. The people he killed didn't have a happy ending, so why should he?
But tonight, those thoughts, the tattered, sharp edges of himself dissipate like smoke in the summer rain, and in its absence there comes a semblance of hope. Maybe, just maybe. He wants to see where this goes, and Bucky shifts and moves when Steve does because it's what they do, (it's what they do, Steve moves, and Bucky moves with him), and he seals his lips over Steve's own like a promise.
A second, three, then, he murmurs, soft against his lips: ]
Your best guy, huh?
no subject