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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)! )
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hownkai) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-09-02 09:31 pm
no subject
A faintly audible snort of almost-laughter – quiet enough that it could almost be mistaken for something else.]
Sorry. I don't do dramatic.
[Says the guy who decided that, rather than brave the ocean waters, he'd prefer to hop out of his goddamn escape pod from several thousand feet up and test his luck with his landing system aug. Says the guy wearing those sunglasses. Says the guy with that grumble of a voice.]
But you won't get a faceful of sand, probably. I can still be a gentleman. [Shrug!!] More or less.
[Usually, it's "less" – but he does make an exception for ladies in distress. Still kind of deciding if he wants to throw Hawke in the "lady" category, though...]
no subject
My apologies. Clearly, I pegged you wrong. You definitely look like the boring sort who mostly sits at home on the evening and reads. Not dramatic at all.
[She hicgags a little bit which cuts through the quipping. Dammit. Not fair.]
Well the last thing I need is sand on top of the puke, so you can be my hero.
no subject
[Another glance over his shoulder back at her – just making sure that little gag isn't a warning of what's yet to come. What little levity that he might've had just now drains from his voice.]
I think both of us would prefer it if I didn't have to be your hero. [Spare her her ego, spare him the collateral damage. The splash zone, as it were.] Does the magic [can't help a slight hitch on that word] take this much out of you every time you use it?
[At the risk of looking like an idiot– he's going to assume it's magic, anyway. Kind of reminds him of Dorian's spark shooters... Though it's hard not to, considering that's been his only exposure to the stuff so far. But he has to say: when he'd imagined magic, there'd always been pointy hats and old bearded men involved.]
no subject
[After she takes a moment to breathe and rest her hands on her knees, she keeps following him. Her stomach is calming down a least a little. So hopefully he's safe from the splash zone.]
It does here. Usually it only happens when you exert an extreme amount of mana. But here's like everything's cut in half. Less than half. Even simple spells can be exhausting.
no subject
[It's not a question, the way he says it – more like an admonishment. Half-turned to face her, he waits for Hawke to catch her breath, quietly watching. Making sure she's not going to pitch face forward into the sand, probably.
Once she looks like she's good to go, he sets off once more. A few moments pass in silence before he speaks up again, tone carefully neutral.]
So if it wasn't heroics, then what was it you were trying to do back there?
[Because it looked suspiciously like she was trying to jump start the ship's engines and nearly knock herself out in the process.]
no subject
[She shrugs like it's not a big deal. And it isn't. At least her trying isn't a big deal. The thing is that it didn't matter in the end.
The thought makes her feel rather nauseous again.]
no subject
[There's that old Jensen sarcasm that everyone knows and loves.
That said, his heart's not quite in it; honestly, he can't really judge. If he could shoot lightning out of his hands, he'd have probably done the same thing (and, given his track record, he'd probably have ended up a lot worse than puking on some guy's shoes on the beach.)
And so, while you'd never be able to call his voice gentle by any means, a bit of the edge in his voice definitely softens.]
Don't blame you for wanting to skip out on a pod ride, though. On the bright side, you've got probably a good few weeks of terra firma to look forward to.
[(If only he knew.)]
no subject
[Hawke is managing to keep up with him now. More out of pride than necessity. She's exhausted and sort of misses being collapsed in the sand. But there's no point in sitting around so stumbling along she goes.]
Believe me I am. Not sure anyone will convince me to get back on the Moira either.
no subject
[NOT HELPING.
He shrugs one shoulder.]
If that thing gets back up in the air after all this, I'm taking it as a comfort. Being stranded on a desert island isn't exactly a party either.
[Almost as if to make his point, he lifts a metal hand, curling and uncurling the fingers methodically – the whirr of servos punctuated with a distinct, grinding staccato. Gum in the works, so to speak.
He scowls faintly. This goddamn sand.]