hownkai: (Default)
Cúrre ([personal profile] hownkai) wrote in [community profile] thisavrou_log2016-09-19 04:07 pm

( september event log )

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
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T

L
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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. )
ryuuzaki: (...)

Mildly Bad Cop & Significantly Worse Cop vs Zorak's Stoner Cousin

[personal profile] ryuuzaki 2016-09-29 09:38 am (UTC)(link)
L is mostly upset in principle.

For him, all of this could have gone much worse than it has. It's led to a personal entanglement, but not one he particularly regrets, at least not yet -- even if it's one that he might have otherwise sidestepped, or one he might never have had an opportunity to participate in. However, the fact that the results have been enjoyable so far doesn't change that there was no guarantee that they would be, nor does it change the fact that he's lost another year to someone toying with his mind. The experience this time might have been much more enjoyable, but it hasn't even been nine months since the first time. Three years in a single year is, in itself, cause for resentment, even if he were the only one caught up in this.

He isn't. Even people whose curiosity hadn't gotten the better of them, who had stayed on the beach, had been affected. Children are not, in his mind, an especially protected category -- not to a sentimental degree -- but they are to most other people, and even they had lost a year. Those who had come to the city and to the celebrations might have done much more than simply pass the time. It wasn't exactly an issue of coercion, but --

Well, it's his inclination to want answers.

The trouble is that he's just one unimposing human man, and this is an entire city of man-sized insects, which is beginning to bother him as much as it should have to begin with. They outnumber the crew of the Moira, and they possess all the resources, many of which may be unknowns.

That means that any questioning has to be handled delicately: the crew could probably bring one of the natives onto the ship for interrogation, but they would need to make sure that everyone who belonged on the Moira was already on it, ready to go, and that in itself could cause an undesirable incident. (For example: how could they choose the correct subject without advance intel? It would be pointless if they captured someone who didn't know anything. What if that person was interpreted as a hostage? What if it caused an attack on the ship itself?)

L's mind has been circling these ideas for several hours. Tex has fled back to the ship, apparently leaving the petite brunette body she'd been using behind her -- that's something he'll have to reconcile later. Maybe he can talk to one of the mantids... maybe one of them will try to delicately pluck out his eyeball if he presses his point too firmly. There's also the trouble that their physiology is different enough from what he's used to that he doesn't know how to read their facial expressions. Body language is simpler, but he still won't have complete confidence in his analysis.

When he sees Rinzler stalk up to the mantid and corner it -- which it responds to with something that looks as much like cowering in fear as L could want -- an idea and a plan finally come to mind. He's seen how lethal Rinzler can be, and how unapologetic about it. Furthermore, while Rinzler communicates, it's in a style that the hosts may not even be able to interpret; even if they can, they may not stand much of a chance against him. If he isn't checked, he could cause an incident very much like the one L has been thinking is best avoided.

If they can work together, though, they might be able to accomplish something. L has the expertise in interrogation, and Rinzler seems both significantly more dangerous and significantly less edible.

He approaches at a brisk walk, still wearing a dark blue silk tunic and trousers like the ones he'd been given for the first night of parties.

"Mr. Rinzler! Wait. Let me talk to him."

He thinks the mantid looks briefly relieved at his interruption, and he thinks that's incredibly foolish of it.
Edited 2016-09-29 09:43 (UTC)
notglitching: (red - look back)

/applauds title.

[personal profile] notglitching 2016-09-29 10:46 am (UTC)(link)
The voice that calls out to Rinzler's side is recognizable, as is the flicker of presence that scans flag. He'd encountered the user during a different threat, wearing an armor template that was recognizably not his. Still, Rinzler could care less about what clothes L wears right now, and even the pointless prefix only draws a short glare.

Waiting draws a longer one. The enforcer's posture is a curved, vicious lean, noise a rolling promise of violence. He wants to move. To fight. To break something, break them, see these bugs scattered to the ground in code or blood or whatever makes their kind. If they had disks, he'd strip their secrets from the code, but Rinzler has no qualms at all about forcing them out scream by scream instead.

But he needs the answers. Needs to know, and these glitches are barely clever enough to register his threat, much less what he's asking. The question, then, is whether the user is any brighter. Rinzler's fingers curl, clenching tight around his humming blade as his mask turns in fractional acknowledgement. There's no nod, but the weapon makes no move to strike, either. Not yet.

He'll wait. For exactly as long as the user's talk proves useful.

Better make it count.