( september event log )

[hownkai]

Who: Everyone
When: September 19th and on
Where: The Fixed Moons of the Runoff and the Moira.
What: Everything comes to a head.
Warnings: Nothing for now. Please label your content!

E V E N T L O G

the lucid disparity revisited "Never be the first to arrive or the last to go, and never, ever be both." By now, time has passed, and most of the crew have found some sort of comfortable groove with the natives of the unnamed island they crashed near. Partying, gambling and drinking, and more… Even the mysterious pool has given people who could answer its riddle insight in this confusing time. However, as the nights and days continue to progress and the parties begin to blur together, things are… odd. The hosts are still as kind as ever, offering anything and everything those at the temple-like building could ask for, but every so often, the world around them appears different. Clear, as if a fog had been lifted. Yet, it’s only a blink, and then, it’s gone, returning everyone to their regularly scheduled eternal party. Down on the beach, the Captains are still as busy as ever working with those capable to restore function to the Moira. On the morning of the 20th, Navigator Manasseh’s vitals begin to slowly return to normal, her status on the Directory reverting to GREEN, and with it, life is brought back to the Moira. This, of course, means everyone is able to board the ship and leave, but most of the crew who traveled through the jungle and stayed at the party aren’t exactly willing to go just yet. Prior to this, a few of the crew who suddenly realized things were strange and that the people around them were acting strange - themselves included - approached Thán with this particular revelation, upon which Nathan Drake planned to bring back things from the temple to be tested for irregularities. Each sample returned to Cúrre does not alert her to anything abnormal, comprised of similar compounds—except for the water brought to her from the pool. Acting quickly, she reaches the same conclusion as a few of the other crewmembers do: that the water neutralizes the mysterious intoxication caused by everything on this unknown planet. ☄ FROM UNDER THE VEIL The combined efforts of the crew and Curre have resulted in an “antidote” being made from the pool water; crew members pass it around to those down on the ship and beach, then utilize caution while administering it to those at the party. The change happens slowly for most. A drink that was perfect only a little while ago is suddenly sickeningly sweet and no longer enjoyable. The food tastes wrong. The music no longer urges you to dance but instead reminds you that your feet are aching. The magic is fading, and as it does, the cracks in the facade begin to reveal themselves. The elegant city built into the rocks is faded and cracking at the edges. Nothing is as it seems, especially the hosts. Their eagerness to please now has an edge to it. They try and ply their guests with new food, drink and distractions, but they know when the game is up. Do you try and slip away when they’re distracted, or do you demand to know why they’ve done this? Do you dare to find out? ☄ AS TIME GOES BY Crew have begun to filter to the beach, and as the ship reboots, its systems expelling water and allowing it to float on the surface, all Moira-connected technology refreshes. MID devices, to those who check, will show that a year has passed since they crash landed on this strange planet. Those that did not join the party would not have been aware that so much time had passed as the planet seems to be under the influence of a blurring of time, probably due to the fact it is so close to the Luminous Sea. Crew would have gone through the motions and not realized that supplies were dwindling, and anyone who has themselves looked over in the Medbay will discover that they are, in fact, physically one year older. With the Moira finally functioning and with everyone on board, the ship finally begins to ascend and leave the planet behind. The Captains are all working together to get the crew settled back on board and help those who might need some adjusting to this particular news. Since it has been such a long time, fresh supplies are badly needed, and the ship is directed towards the closest known place: the Mini Colony. ( ooc; For questions, go here. )

Comments

[alterplex]

[ The comment about scaring people off goes by with a light huff of breath (not exactly untrue), while the latter question prompts a bit of remembering on his part. It's not difficult to draw up the name of the herb that'd been in his old cigar, because R&D'd explained it to him as something that'd help with his pain and—

(—his wandering mind? the fact that he can't see colors in the morning sometimes?)

—to relax. Right.

He frowns lightly, but picks the conversation back up. ]

...Wormwood. Bitter. [ A light wave of his bionic, before he pulls his cigar out from between his lips. ] It's fine, no need to fix it.

[cadeuces]

[ The look on her face is probably enough to override him trying to dismiss the topic, because— she's no expert in herbs, but wormwood is recognizable enough. What a strange thing to add into a cigar, and her confusion shows it. ]

May I ask what for? That's usually something used for digestion. Amongst ah... other things. [ Absinthe production among them. Ahab was this your decision... Angela's awaiting a response to judge as gently as possible. ] If there is anything medicinal I can supplement, I'd be more than happy to.

[alterplex]

[ ...Hm. He sees the quiet urgency in her expression, as well as a need for elaboration. He'd never questioned R&D's decisions— coupled with input from Medbay, he's sure— on what to put in his cigar, but.

After a beat of reflection, he comes out with it. He knows Angela is a medic, and as much as he dislikes speaking about some of his more physical limitations, it's better than letting these limitations catch up with him unexpectedly. ]

—For the pain. [ He flexes his bionic to indicate his first problem region, then draws it up to tap along the jut of his horn-like shrapnel. ] Nothing major.

[cadeuces]

[ There's a bit of visible relief in her frame when he takes a moment to debate and finally confides the answer to her, even if the confusion doesn't entirely fade away from her expression. It isn't her place to question these things either, but if there had been a reasonable purpose— and there certainly had been, even though wormwood wasn't used for pain nor can she imagine it'd worked well— she could replicate it.

Ahab indicates his arm and then taps his brow with the curious bit of shrapnel, and while she can't rightly guess at the pain in his head, an amputee's nerve pain is something she is intimately familiar with. Phantom pains were curious but ultimately resolved long ago. Severed nerve pathways were still hard-coded to one part of the body, and the neural feedback whenever they felt anything was one associated with that part of the body. Put in the stimulus of what remained with what the mind has decided it meant and you imagine pain in the flesh no longer there. In more serious cases, a simple surgery to reroute those nerves elsewhere worked wonderfully. Most could be solved with a bit of reconditioning of the sensations and something as simple as generic antidepressants.

Angela can work with that, hence her relaxed response. ]

I see; unconventional enough, but if it worked, then it worked. I can sort out something for the pain if you'd ever like to speak about it. Nothing invasive or addictive, I promise. I'm plenty familiar with amputations and the resulting therapies and pains; it was a good portion of my efforts in the military, as well as war relief work.

[ It takes time for someone to come around to working on those sorts of weaknesses, but she can at least lay the foundation and assure him he'd be in good hands. ]

[alterplex]

[ The fact of the matter is that Venom comes from one of those cadre of (possibly misguided) souls who think that pain gives him purpose; he's not stubborn enough or masochistic enough to consider steeping himself in his own disadvantages, but if he were given an option to remove the issue entirely, it's likely that he won't entertain it.

Her expertise doesn't surprise Venom. After all, her field experience would put her face-to-face with a myriad of catastrophic injuries, and her discretion is noted as another way in which she shows her professionalism.

'If you would ever like to speak about it' is a gentle statement of patience and faith. He understands it for what it is, which is why he dispenses with his pretenses. ]

...They're nothing notable. Common symptoms of phantom pain. [ He's sure he doesn't have to explain, so he doesn't. ] I won't need a steady supply of pain suppressants, but...

[ His lips work, as if it's difficult to finish the sentence. ] ...if you can find a way to make it taste decent, I'll give it a try.

[ There we go. A little on the cynical side, but he means it gently. ]

[cadeuces]

[ It'd be lying if she didn't say she knew the type; she certainly does, and it's just as disappointing every time to see someone allow themselves to suffer as if the memories alone of that pain wouldn't keep them going forward. He certainly has all the visible reminders whenever he so much as catches sight of his reflection.

The fact that his reply comes so easily (and so quickly) is a pleasant enough surprise and she perks just the slightest bit physically in response— the twitch as she stands a little more upright, the easing of her shoulders. The mere pleasure of having someone to help has her relaxing into a familiar state of mind and her body follows; it's as simple as that. Let it never be said that Angela was high-maintenance. ]

Phantom pain, of course— how frequent, and how bad? [ She'll wait for him to find his words, as she always does. ] Despite the name, you don't actually need pain suppressants. It's a neural response to your body's processing of the severed nerves. Your brain no longer receives the input, so it registers as "something's wrong". The mind's response to "something's wrong" is to create "pain" to draw attention to the problem area, and projects where it knew those nerves to lead. While that may sound tricky to treat, really, it's a nervous system issue and remains entirely within your body.

And there are a few different things we can try to soothe damaged nerves like anti-convulsants; I'll give them to you in pill form rather than try to mix a liquid into your cigar here, if that's all right with you. The dosages will be better controlled then, and it won't leave a bad taste.

The best of both worlds, right?

[ The smile that slips out is full of warmth and a quiet appreciation for his willingness to confide in her. It's no easy feat to speak of one's weaknesses and she hadn't expected him to reply any time soon, but she is glad that he has chosen to rely her. While there's no way he could know it, Angela takes pride and values the trust given to her by each and every person that passes through her care. It takes courage to place the entirety of your well-being in someone else's hands and a fair level of blind faith in their abilities. She will always, always cherish that fact and never take advantage of it, and that thankfulness shows. ]

[alterplex]

[ He knows what that is, that look: he knows it because he thinks he's seen it before, done it before, when he snaps to attention for a task he's confident in. He's told to carry the weight of another life, and it's not dread or anxiety that he feels, because it's pride, that singular emotion of being useful— a weighted hand settles on his shoulder, and he hears sandpaper-gravel from just to his front, I'm counting on you—

—and he jerks back to reality, because he finds himself projecting images from the past onto a situation in the present. A memory that he'd lost ages ago, rendered in double.

Angela smiles at him and she is so sincere, so willing to understand his troubles, that he finds himself almost warning her away from it. Where is this going to leave her, in the long run?

He shelves that thought. It feels too much like he's making it personal (he is). ]

Not frequent. Nothing I can't handle. [ That's honesty, and not posturing. The severity of his condition isn't something he's thought about at great length; it's never hindered his performance, and more often than not, it's an issue in times of peace. Which, incidentally, were infrequent.

He tucks his new cigar into one of his pockets, and meets Angela's smile. Her trust radiates from her, and he, in turn, shows his respect with a softening of his features and a light nod. ]

I won't need them right away, so don't trip over yourself to find the right medication.

[ Gravity hasn't exactly been kind to Angela, in Venom's expert opinion. ]

[cadeuces]

[ When Ahab jerks back to the present, Angela's standing in front of him with a hand on his arm, just the gentle brush of a few fingertips as she looks up at him with the faintest trace of concern in one furrowed brow. He'd gone somewhere for a moment there— she won't ask if he's all right, but she waits for him to come back from his thoughts and gives him something to ground him here in her touch if he needs it. People don't often wander mid-conversation that way.

There's a small quirk of a smile waiting for him, questioning, but he picks up the conversation again and she listens to his answer, withdrawing her hand. ]

I'm glad to hear it. Still, if it ever flares up or you'd ever like to do a proper exam, you need only let me know. Next time I'm bored I'll see what I can work up for you, all right?

[ It is an honest answer; that she knows. Another thing Angela prides herself on is her uncanny ability to know when "patients" are lying because all too often she had stubborn men whose adrenaline was still up, fighting to go back in the field. Nevermind their bodies were about to go into shock from third degree burns in explosions or they were shot through the leg or just about anything else. His cigar finds a good home in his pocket and she takes a moment to study the way his expression softens, the faintest way the crinkles at the corner of his eye deepen into something less severe. ]

I'll probably have something ready for you tomorrow either way, if you wanted to stop by. We'll try a couple weeks on one idea and see if it works. If not, we'll try the next.

[ THERE U GO AGAIN WITH THAT ANGEL SHIT. ]

[alterplex]

[ He doesn't know how to mitigate Angela's concern when he comes back to it, when he becomes cognizant of the fact that she's been privy to one of his more unattractive weaknesses. He isn't ashamed— that juncture passed long ago— but he still stonewalls the issue by breaking eye contact.

The contact helped, however incrementally. Saying so would address his momentary lapse, so he doesn't. ]

Sounds like you’ve got it figured out, Doctor.

[ Her diagnosis, what she can do for him, the whole shebang. It would be pointless for him to contest her decision or prolong it (again, being a medic is often a thankless job), so there’s no debate; just the sound of his feet hitting the linoleum as he turns. ]

I’ll stop by tomorrow. I know where to find you.

[ BUT YOU KNOW WHAT let’s not be rude as fuck ] …Thanks. Appreciate it.

[cadeuces]

[ The touch at his arm flattened further into a gentle hold when he's breaking eye contact with her, but he hadn't pulled away. It isn't until he speaks and he isn't addressing it that she'd pulled back, deeming it unnecessary by that point and he's continuing the conversation. The fact that she's intimately familiar with the issue has the information right at hand for her to begin formulating treatments, and she offers a smile with her nod. ]

I have an inkling, already, yes. That sounds great.

[ His thanks comes a little unexpected as he walks away, so she's all the more surprised and delighted when she brightens and sees him off with the widening of her smile. ]

You're very welcome, Ahab. You take care of yourself, and I'll see you tomorrow.

[ Now to go find Jesse to deliver her other gift. ]