( october event log pt. 2 )

[hohnkai]

Who: Everyone
When: October 19th into the beginning of November.
Where: The Mini Colony of the Runoff & the Moira.
What: The Moira stops to resupply at the closest planet and things get weird.
Warnings: Physical transformations, phobias - please label if needed.

E V E N T L O G

Between the Perspectives "but in your future, the you i see is exactly the person you always wanted to be." Supplies have been loaded onto the ship, and the captains have encouraged all crew members to explore with the added notice that this will be the last planetary stop (hopefully) until the Moira reaches the Midway Hub. While seemingly uneventful on the Moira, the mini colony has been thrumming with adventure and has offered its visitors the opportunity to explore. To those who have indulged, some experienced great changes and others discovered enlightening information about the Ingress and the very ship some have called home for over a year. Later in the month, the Lamaria hold the closing ceremony of the Desiderium Festival (which was noted on the prior event log) . The burgundy and lime colors of the celebration slowly fade into black and vermillion, and small fires are now in place for visitors to throw their written notes into. Everyone who participates will be blessed by one of the Lamaria (they will visit the ship as well), and the MID will be able to only translate bits and pieces of what this blessing means. "Experienced loss — every story is different — and saying goodbye — not to know — understanding lies in the mingling of holding on and letting go." ☄ TRANSFORMATION CENTRAL For some, it might be due to a touch or a look. For others, it might not be any of those things at all, and something that just happens. Either way, shortly after the blessing occurs, you will find yourself changing. Your character’s body will slowly transform into the physical likeness of another being on the Mini Colony. The effects of this change may last as short as a day or as long as a week, but each come with their own stipulations—advantages and disadvantages. This is limited to one as the blessing itself only allows for “a little understanding”. Linked below are some of the possible transformations that your character can go through. Players can choose either one of the mod-supplied suggestions or choose the form of another already living on the Moira. ☄ THE FEAR MACHINE Paranoia writes the checks, we're dangling here like a marionette. Here we go again, the world is coming to an end. Engage the fear machine and collect the dividends. While the festival is beautiful, and some have found enlightenment and understanding here, there are those on the mini colony who don't enjoy the festivities. In a secluded room on the fifth floor in one of the buildings in the Science District, there is one such person who finds the religious festival to be a nuisance—one who should be stopped. Thinking that disrupting the blessings and celebration will somehow "get back" at the Lamaria for impeding their work (some of those who have transformed got into the building a few years ago and destroyed this person's property). Pettiness thrives, and they create something they dub The Fear Machine. Yet, while the science is sound, the technology itself is not. In the middle of the mini colony, the machine is set off, and bolts of transparent energy erupt and spark out around it, stretching as far as the docked ships. Since the technology wasn't created properly to sustain the energy, it doesn't spread out evenly like they had hoped. Some are hit. Some are not. Those who are will develop a sudden and overwhelming phobia that will last well into the beginning of November. The machine might be turned off and left behind, but the obsessive fear has only just begun. ( ooc; For questions, go here. This log will run into the beginning of November; any threads here can be claimed for bonus activity the following activity check as well. )

Comments

Rinzler | Bonsai cat | Open!

[notglitching]

A. Terrifying Predator is Go (mini-colony)

While areas of the mini-colony are bright and populated at all hours, it certainly has its share of dark alleys and dim rooftops at night. See also: the kind of places the Rinzlers of the world might tend to lurk. Even when not trying to hide, Rinzler moves quietly, and more often than not, it's the enforcer's sound or the glow of his circuit lights that reveal his presence, even to an ally.

That hasn't changed. The low rumbling is similar enough, if marginally more cyclical in pattern. When you turn towards it, you can spot the usual glow, red-orange streaks and dots of light. There's something... fuzzier about the outline, though. Small? Maybe he's just far away.

Or maybe not. Anyone raising a light toward the shape will find a fluffy, tiny bonsai kitten with very unusual markings in its fur. Currently: glaring.


B. Threat Detected (anywhere, everywhere)

After Inugami, Rinzler has some experience with being reconfigured to a body not his own. This is, however, weirder. He has four legs. No disk. The automated scripts are different, a multitude of instincts urging not only eat and breathe, but hunt and smell and clean yourself. The former, he can get behind, but he'd found himself licking his own hair before conscious processing even caught up with the action.

In the end? He decides to run with it. The tug of protocol is oddly distant, and it's logical enough that this form's directives would have a better concept of its needs. Besides, Rinzler had spent his first week in a user shell ignoring the need to eat, and that had turned out—

Motion-behind-THREAT. He freezes and spins back, one paw slicing out with small needled extensions. Uselessly. The dark, twisting outline moved as fast as he had, and a quick check the other side finds it slipping behind him again. Rinzler waits, muscles coiling with tension until it starts to slide back out, then lunges for the...

[Input: pressure, instability, pain; location: unknown]. What? He stares at the wriggling threat pinned between both paws. [Retry; location: ...]

...oh. Oh. Rinzler stares, twisting his head at a sharp angle to follow the shape to its connection at his spine. Looks back at his... tail.

And promptly starts washing it. He meant to do that.


C. Threat Attempted! (anywhere, probably the colony)

It was inevitable, really. Cat instincts only go so far, and when compared to (or combined with) Rinzler's usual modus operandi, peaceful problem-solving was definitively out. Maybe he was stepped on. Or kicked. Or worse: picked up. Regardless of the reason, Rinzler is now puffed up and making angry noises at something ten times his size. It could be you, your dog, or a cannibal clown monster. No matter the enemy, Rinzler (as always) is certain of one thing.

He can take it.

Help might be a good idea. Or at least de-escalation?


D. Up, Up, and... Somewhere? (Moira, ventilation shafts)

The ventilation shafts had seemed like the perfect option, at first. He'd mapped out all the ones he could fit into before, and as disadvantageous as his current size might be for combat, it would at least let him scout out the rest. Or even access new areas of the ship. But somehow in the transition between narrow crawlspaces and expansive hallways, the air ducts started to look... different.

He isn't lost. And even if he were, Rinzler is confident he'll figure it out sooner or later. Anyone else in the crawlspace will spot the faint glow of his markings, and a faint rumbling can be heard in the hallway underneath—followed, intermittently, but the skittering of claws on metal. Or a thump. The vertical gaps are a lot harder to cross when you're about one pound of fur and bones, and once he drops into the walls, it's much harder to get back up.

Not that he'd admit to being stuck either.


E. Unintended Consequences (anywhere)

By a couple days in, Rinzler's getting used to this form. The biology is irritating. Digestion is still terrible, and maintenance requires more time than he'd prefer. Still, it's manageable. Better than the user body. At least, until he feels a prickling in his throat forcing him to arch, retch, and spit out a blob of sticky, fluid-covered... hair.

What.

Ever seen a cat stare at its own hairball in rigid shock? No? Enjoy.


[[ooc: As always, prose or spam is fine. Also, feel free to wildcard! Rinzler can be found batting at his MID, failing to fly a transporter, falling asleep on your keyboard, or much, much more.]]

Unintended Consequences

[prorenataa]

[ Adrien was half asleep.

Actually he was mostly asleep and still getting used to the idea that he had a private bathroom. Currently, he was so exhausted that he was running on automatic pilot and had exited his room to head to the communal bathroom.

...

That didn't exist.

Because he was now housed on Moro, not Nomo.

Out the door he came, eyes mostly closed and feet bare, his only coherent thought process was bathroom, which was also how he initially came to miss the small furry body standing off to the side, staring in horror at something. The something that the bare ball of his foot just landed on.

With a wet ... squish.

The sort of squish that curls up between the toes, splattering on the instep.

The doctor paused in place, his mind now considering the fact that he needed to wake up, just a shade more. He slowly lifted his foot and looked down at the appendage, as if it had personally offended him.. ]

Wha?

Liquid Snake | IS NOW A SPACE VAMPIRE | ota | body horror, blood, gore

[saveyourserpent]

[A. AND THEY WILL BURY IT WITH ME [SLIGHT BODY HORROR, GORY THEMES, BLOOD]]

It's been... a strange festival, but that's life out in space. He left his (surprisingly heartfelt; good thing they were on fire) notes for his fallen comrades, and figured that'd be that, but the concept of the blessing took him by surprise. Not that he denied it. It seemed harmless enough. After all, he did participate in the festival and everything. What's wrong with a little bit of taking in local customs? And with all that fame of his, it was better he just did it and got it over with. And it seemed like a lot of nothing.

Until now.

At first, it feels like he's just turning into smoke again, an annoyance that he's been working on both getting used to and using for his own purposes. It becomes pretty obvious after a while, though, that that isn't what's happening. Everything goes from just feeling strange to actually burning. His eyes, his skin, his insides. Not something he can't handle; he's gone through plenty of torture just fine. But it's so wrong.

Something's happening to him. His eyes are... filling up with something? His flesh feels... drained? And his teeth just feel like they're about to fall out. It's all he can do to keep himself from trying to claw his skin off or something. And then... blood in his mouth. His teeth are too long, too sharp. They've cut him, they've cut him, what the hell is this? He needs more of that, for sure. He needs-- what?

When his body finally stops feeling like it's fighting itself, when his mind suddenly stops racing, he stands up straight. Instincts battle logic as he sniffs the air. Whatever he'd been feeling before, it's now replaced by an extreme urgency. Hunger. Thirst. The blood in his mouth is only a taste, and he needs more.

His head snaps to attention when he sees movement in his peripheral vision. Bright red eyes stare at whatever (blood-filled) creature might have the misfortune to be nearby. His mouth opens, revealing razor-sharp fangs, and he lunges at his would-be victim.

Think fast.

[B. GALLONS OF THE STUFF [BLOOD AND STUFF]]

So, Liquid's developed an insatiable thirst for blood. That became obvious when he pounced on an unsuspecting person, sunk his brand-spanking-new fangs into their neck, and went to town.

He doesn't regret a thing. Hey, at least he didn't kill them. Not that he would have minded so much, but he didn't need that kind of attention. Especially now that he's become, well, a freaking vampire. Some blessing.

Still, one feeding doesn't feel like enough, but now that he's got a better sense of control, he can sneak up on his next victim instead. Care to join him? Care to put a stop to it? Hell, maybe he's out looking for you.

[C. I JUST LOOK 'EM IN THE EYE AND TELL 'EM I WAS RAISED BY BATS]

The new transformation doesn't seem to have come with the smoke problem he'd been having before... which is actually kind of annoying because the whole point was to practice, and if he can't practice, then whenever he goes back to normal he's going to have to work on it again, and what if his body decides to forget all he's worked for, huh? That'd be a ton of effort, wasted.

Not like he can do anything about it now, though. And just because it hasn't happened yet doesn't mean it won't happen, right? So, after a quick glance to see if anyone's watching, he decides to give it a try. He closes his eyes, concentrates, wills his body to become smoke...

and he finds he's shrunk. Into a bat, actually. At first, it was more like two bats, but quickly ran into one. He's really got to work on that. At least flying seems to be an innate ability.

"...I meant to do that."

[D. WILDCARD]

[soooo, liquid has become a space vampire. find him wandering around anywhere, doing space vampire things. and as always, you can plot with me here or @ agentkaz!]

B. (A+ lyric choice, btw)

[mttbrandlegs]

While Liquid's been transformed into something supernatural, Mettaton's getting used to being someone rather ordinary. To him, being human was exciting enough to wander the Moira for, and to forget the sad things that tended to overrun his thoughts these days.

This was great, he was warm, he could feel, and if he put his hand to his chest, why...he even had a heartbeat! In fact, he was so excited that it was beating fast, as if he had just taken a run. It's not his fault, this had been his dream for so long, nothing could ruin it! He was human! HUMAN!!

The unfortunate part of being a regular old human, however, is that he can't sense that someone is following him with ill intent. Even if he felt the prickle of displaced air, of something not right, he ignored it. Because he was still experiencing a little bit of sensory overload, and it was making him giddy.

And a sitting duck.

daryl dixon ][ space werewolf ota <3

[worn_wings]

i. walkin' through the streets of the colony in the rain

After their too-long dalliance in the insects' city, Daryl hasn't been keen on making more stops in unfamiliar places-- but the Moira is gonna get real claustrophobic real fast once they get on their way, so eventually he figures he'd better enjoy solid ground while he's got it.

The festival is strange, but there's something touching about it, and he writes his messages for his own reasons. He can't quite dodge the blessing, though he'd rather. It leaves him feeling unsettled, annoyed-- something that doesn't fade as quickly as it ought to.

Without knowing why, he stays in the city, drifting through the streets, restless. Again and again he seeks out quiet places-- deserted alleys, dark sidestreets-- before getting spooked by nothing, heading back into the crowds. Except he hates the crowds, which means before long he's shouldering his way past and glaring at strangers.

"The hell are you lookin' at?"


ii. his hair was perfect

Eventually he does head back to the ship, at least for a while. His mood hasn't improved in the least, though; he stalks through the corridors like he wants a fight, though he couldn't say why. Looking a little more ragged than usual-- maybe he just forgot to shave (for three years?)-- he's not making any effort to hide his simmering, sourceless agitation. Cutting in line in the mess, shouldering first through doors, literally growling under his breath.

That's probably fine, though, right? Probably.


iii. hear him howling around your kitchen door

The next time he leaves the ship, snarling something about needing some goddamn space, he doesn't come back.

He's on his own when it hits him, a wave of aggression that melts into terror-- he's alone, hopelessly so, more miles than he can count from home. It stops him in his tracks before the physical pain cripples him, bones stretching out beneath his skin, his jaws lengthening, his already-unkempt hair bristling down across his back.

It leaves him disoriented, an errant Erant lost in the Colony's winding streets, skulking about like a feral dog, his MID ignored, his uniform hanging in tatters.

ii!

[notglitching]

Of all the changes Rinzler's experienced, the sense of smell is probably the most distracting. Every cycling of air brings new perceptions: food, prey (chase/hunt), cat (fight), users. Even structures like metal have their own trace. In its own way, it's not unlike his scanning functions... with one crucial difference. Those, Rinzler knows how to use.

Still, for some things? The inbuilt directives offer a strong hint. He's making his way down the (much too large) hallways when the whoosh of a door ahead brings a rush of data through the air. Big is the first impression, though he's not sure how. Sweat and hair follow after, linked to a bizarre blend of chemicals that seem personal to the frame. But there's something else, too, an undercurrent that spikes through his new brain.

Threat threat threat—!

He needs to go. Needs to run (up, back!), to move, to get away—but Rinzler never runs, never panics, and the tangle of fear jars sharply against his own disgust at recognizing it. He's not scared. (Huge, danger—) He's not weak enough to run. He's the predator; he's the best. He kills threats, and certainly he's not going to flee.

So when Daryl strides around the corner? He'll find an interesting obstacle in his path. It's tiny, under half a foot in height. It's glowing, in strange, patchy markings, red-orange against black. And despite its size, shape, and any metric of sense... the bonsai kitten is doing its absolute best to match the werewolf's growl.

Zam Wesell | Force-sensitive human lmao | OTA

[backsassin]

a. i’m almost a human being (mini-colony)
[Changing forms is nothing new to Zam. Changing forms without meaning to? That’s new.

He’s on his way back to the Moira from one of the colony’s transport depots when it happens: the feeling of flesh and bone subtly shifting, so familiar it’s almost mundane -- except he’s not the one controlling it.

He doesn’t have a means of seeing his own reflection, but the form he’s forced into is one he recognizes without having to see it. Its his female form, except… not. There’s something different about it, but he’s too busy trying to change back to work out the details.

Anybody who runs into Zam at the transport depot will find them in their usual female form, with a few alterations. They look older for one, more like a woman approaching her 40s than the young face they normally wear. There are also a couple of faded scars that weren’t there before, a thin one stretching from just above their left brow down towards their right eye, and another nicking their bottom lip. As for their expression, there’s no disguising the look of shock and frustration on their face as they try, futilely, to change it back to its previous form.]

b. to hell with they, i’m almost me (transporter, cargo bay)
[Zam’s on pins and needles by the time they arrive back on the Moira via transporter. They’ve spent the entire trip over trying to change back to their male form but it’s like they’ve forgotten how. Flesh and bone remain stubbornly in a single, set configuration no matter what they try and it’s becoming harder to fight the panic pressing in. Changing has always come as naturally to them as breathing. They’re a Clawdite -- it’s what they do. Except not now. Maybe not anymore at all.

No, that’s ridiculous. They can’t actually be stuck like this. Even if they can’t change between human variations for whatever reason, they still have their natural form to fall back on. Maybe all they need is a reset. They wait for the transporter to empty of other passengers. Once they’re sure they’re alone, they take a deep breath and let go of their human form…

Except nothing happens. Skin doesn’t change to scales, facial features don’t shift.

They’ve lost their natural form.

The open door of an overhead compartment in the transporter slams down with an almighty bang, loud enough for anyone in the cargo bay outside to hear it.]

cargo bay

[newnova]

[ Sam had been trying to get his helmet to work, dammit, and plot a course back home. But it refused to recognize any of the local space. They must be real far out. In any case, when he hears a loud CLANG! he puts the helmet on and zooms over to the transporter to investigate. ]

Everything ok in there?

Anakin Skywalker | (Temporary Walking Sparkler with Fangs) | cw: blood/gore, mild body horror

[ex_forcechoke292]

ｈａｉｒ ｂａｃｋ， ｃｏｌｌａｒ ｕｐ， ｊｅｔ ｂｌａｃｋ， ｓｏ ｃｏｏｌ！
[It takes little time, from the quiet end of the ceremony--something he'd attended quietly and with little fanfare, a moment of private grief that only ever seems to grow--for Anakin to realize that something has become very, very wrong.

The onset, in comparison, feels like it takes a lifetime when the pain itself is slow, bringing with it a transition of his vision to one clouded in subtle shades of red. The change is quick and yet it isn't at all; it happens too quickly to notice the subtle changes as anything more than dull aches brought on by the onset of vividly recollected grief. The dull ache in his teeth is written off as a result of grinding them too harshly in emotional restraint, the red in his vision a result of tears, and the hunger, initially, a simple result of never quite training himself to take as good care of his own body as he should (beyond, of course, working it too hard).

In fact, he doesn't notice any side-effects at all until, half-way back to the ship, he bumps into another person (maybe you?) and bites hard into the soft inside of his mouth, drawing blood. The piercing of his now-fangs is unmistakeable...and so is that sudden, raging hunger.

There's a gasp of surprise and a lisped (what?) apology, but even in that, he can't stop that possible interrupting stare that results in an eye twitching in time with the near-invisible pulse of the artery in the neck of whatever humanoid he's just run into, (or the sudden jolt back to reality if the scent of blood isn't reasonably present).]


ｓｐａｒｋｌｅ ｌｉｋｅ Ｂｏｗｉｅ ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ｍｏｒｎｉｎｇ ｓｕｎ．
[Sunlight will be better, he thinks. Despite a vast and consuming dislike of sand, the presence of warm, natural light has always helped him think. He finds a quiet streetside cafe and decides to wait. Which would be thoroughly more pleasant if the sun, reaching occasionally from behind the clouds, didn't seem to directly blind him each time he opens his eyes. Lore aside, his skin doesn't seem to burn with the same contact (in fact, the shielding that protects it almost seems to glimmer, and glancing at that hurts even more), but it sure is difficult to carry on a conversation when distracted like this.]

I'm sorry, what?

[The hunger has abated for a time. Slightly. It gnaws, it always gnaws, but his attention is wholly focused on blinking to keep his eyes open. And he'd thought the prospect of living in a suit for the rest of his life sounded bad?]


ｐｌａｙ ｉｔ ｒｉｇｈｔ ａｎｄ ｄｒｉｖｅ ａ Ｖｏｌｖｏ ｃａｒ．
[WILDCARD: If you'd like anything else Sangui-related: fights in hotel bars, competitive sparkling, necking, here is your chance to do so! Hit me up!]


Ｍａｍａ， Ｉ ｓａｗ ｔｈｅ ｓｔａｒｓ ｔｏｎｉｇｈｔ．
[Ridiculous hungers abated, Anakin is full ready to get back to the Moira before this seemingly-temporarily-onset vampirism decided undead is a look he should sport permanently. Our "fearless" transport pilot is locked-and-loaded with the craft, rising up into the mini-colony's atmosphere with a smile (and no small amount of exhaustion). The craft checks out fine, safety procedures are in place as usual, this should take no time at all.

Everything is fine. Until, of course, it isn't. Rising from the atmosphere brings the craft into starlight, and Anakin's heart stops. Even with the Moira within reach, the yawning of space around the craft stretches for a literal eternity. He lets out a shuddering breath: he's done this hundreds of times, whether here or back home, this sort of transportation is offensively simple in its routine. But fingers shake, and as a result, so do the transport's controls.

He's never been able to understand anyone's fear of the galaxy around them before. And yet, here he is, frozen in place and haunted by the vastness and utter nothing that surrounds in that dark sea of distant stars. The pilot lets out a whimper.

But there's nothing to see here, right?]


ｔｈｅ ｄｅａｔｈ， ｔｈｅ ｌｉｆｅ， ａｎｄ ａｌｌ ｕｎｓｅｅｎ ｃａｍｅ ｉｎｔｏ ｓｉｇｈｔ．
[WILDCARD: In terms of Anakin's phobia, he's been struck with astrophobia, which is the fear of stars/celestial space. He will not be pleasant around anywhere he can see them: in a transport, the observation deck, or up in navigation. I would never thoroughly encourge meetings in any or all of these places, that would just be cruel. WINK. WINK.]

shitty in the sky with diamonds

[brokeassgoing]

[this space travel is never going to get easier to Badou. it will always involve the spiritual change of underwear, connection wuth a God he hasn't talked to ever kind of like a wayward father who walked out to get cigarettes and never came back-- that sort of thing.

But he's found alcohol from the planet helps. It helps a lot. That's why he is actually in his seat when they take off (white-knuckle grip aside). Of course it's the whimper of their reliable pilot that catches his attention. His eye snaps open--]

That better have been a fart.

Asriel Dreemurr | Just a normal human | ota

[pleasereset]

[Around the Moira]

[The shift from fuzzy goat monster to human is a jarring one - no fur, smaller ears. He's a good foot shorter than he normally would be, the white fur covering the top of his head now blonde hair that's still messy from just waking up.

This should be alarming. This should be really alarming. Monsters just don't turn into humans? But it's pretty clear this isn't his body, and he wonders if maybe that shop he visited just ended up swapping out his body somehow. A feeling of dread washes over him, thinking about having to visit that place again.

But as for right now? He's cold. And when he can't seem to warm up right away, he starts to wander the Moira still in his PJs looking for a good heat source. Maybe a hot drink? That sounds really nice.

But still not yet awake, Asriel doesn't make it very far. As soon as he reaches the lounge, he ends up dozing off on a nearby couch. If someone's already sitting there, there's now a small boy falling asleep on you while muttering.]

Cold...

[Colony]



[Well at some point he had to come back out here, didn't he? He doesn't want to be here though. Even as a human, this place terrifies him and he knows it's a long walk from the Moira to that Pay for Exchange building. What would he even do if they did have his body and refused to give it back?

Maybe he needs to bring someone with him, but they'll copy them too. He knows they will.]

... It's okay, I just gotta make it there and back. I'm not scared, there's nothing I gotta be scared about-

[As soon as Asriel hears someone approaching, he spins around with a yelp. It doesn't make a difference whether they're there to hurt him or not, he's still on edge from his last visit out here.]

Ah! S-sorry!

A.

[mttbrandlegs]

[Mettaton should prooooobably recognize Asriel, human or not. However, he doesn't, and it's not terribly important when faced with the amazing fact that he is also a human.

Being human doesn't take away his sympathetic nature, however, and so when he happens upon this small blond child he has never seen before, his first instinct is to walk forward, his boots clacking with a distinctly different sound--they weren't metal anymore!]

Oh sweetie, come here!! The best cure for a chill is obviously a hug!!

[Though there's no metal reverb in his tone, the voice should ring familiar. So should the general looks, although Mettaton is now soft, dark-skinned, and...well, he has a few scuffs, cuts, and bruises, not the least of which is a deep scratch on his left cheek, but he doesn't seem bothered!

He's totally focused on Asriel.]

Sideswipe | human | ota

[redshitlord]

>> TRANSFORM AND SCREAM A LOT | mini-colony
[He's used to transforming. It's part of his species' general abilities, after all. He's been doing it since he could remember. Since he was "born". But this is different. One moment he's driving, and the next, his frame is abruptly shifting without him telling it to. Twisting and warping and--]

[Okay, he does screech a little. Can you blame him? He's lucky he survives, honestly, at the rate of speed he was going.]

[But, despite this, the figure that rolls to a stop across the colony ground is... human. Lanky and young, and occasionally splotched in blue and red tattoos of Autobot sigils and a Kanji or two. Blue eyes a shade too electric. But human.]

[And suddenly, abruptly terrified. Staring down at rapidly bruising fingers and just yelling.]

[Please help him.]



>> HOW DO I HUMAN | everywhere
[Once he figures out he isn't dying, or cursed or in mortal peril, he's going to try and figure out what to do with himself. He's wandering around wherever he can, wrapped up in a towel, or a blanket. If only because it's cold. With his little red dragon whirling around his head in motherly concern.]

[And yes, the blanket is the only thing on his body right now.]

[He can be found wandering the streets of the mini colony, looking for someone familiar. Because how does he function like this? What is he supposed to do? Or, later, poking his head into the corridors of the Moira, wondering if he's going to find a friend -- or if he's even allowed back in the room he's sharing with Riptide.]

[... Does he need to refuel like this? Why is it so cold?]



>> WILDCARD | anywhere!
[Want to run into this noodle-shaped teenager somewhere else? Hit me up!]

screaming forever and i was too lazy to make autobot icons

[ventifact]

[Meanwhile, Rey transformed not too long ago. She isn't entirely sure how it happened or why, and had spent quite a bit of time screaming as well. But honestly, she can't complain about her new wicked robot body too much. With the way things happen on this ship, she doesn't expect it to be permanent. And if it ends up being permanent, well. She'll deal with that later.

Rey is stomping around the mini-colony when she hears someone screaming and makes her way over.]

Are you okay?

Loki Laufeyson | (Once a Jotun, Always a Jotun) | cw: ...Loki

[villainry]

ｃｏｍｅ ａｓ ｙｏｕ ａｒｅ， ａｓ ｙｏｕ ｗｅｒｅ．．．
[Mere hours after signing an absurd contract (followed for now as it seemingly suits him and the purpose of getting out of this backward realm and back where he rightly belongs), Loki finds himself land-side on the colony, time spent wandering (though not quite aimlessly as much as "curiously"). Despite having clearly heard them, he thinks little of this "blessing," and less so of its terms. Why should he think anything of it?

Well, because it works like this: within several steps from the transport, Loki's Asgardian "veneer", as it were, wears off. He thinks it, at first, a trick of the light, poor vision brought on my some side-effect of that wretched machine (that has left him bootless, to unending agitation) or exhaustion he can no longer outrun. Then, perhaps a cruel trick of someone else here, but he knows well (he assumes) there is no one to do such a thing.

No. As he reflects, confused, as his hands outstretched before him, he sees them in the way he'd never once wanted to: as they really are. This is Loki in his truest form: blue-skinned, red-eyed, and lost.

He needs to find somewhere to hide. And quickly. (And perhaps he's simply not quick enough).]


ｔｈｅ ｃｈｏｉｃｅ ｉｓ ｙｏｕｒｓ， ｄｏｎ＇ｔ ｂｅ ｌａｔｅ．．．
[Loki has discovered very quickly that he does not like this ship. If it isn't missing possessions, or haunting visions he'd like to bleach straight out of his mind, it's this: some parts of the ship are still made of glass, effective intermittent mirrors in public spaces, or windows with the barest hint of reflection that make his skin crawl.

He's already seen himself in ways he'd never wanted and could never rationally desire now, not alone and certainly not where it's open and bare to all around him. But this...this is different. His heritage can be bitten down on and swallowed bitterly, cringed around and denied when he can no longer see it.

But what if he does?

He stares angrily at the corridor ahead, and most particularly at its walls that reflect the overhead lighting. If the light can easily reflect off that glass and polished steel, what else is he to see?

What anyone who runs into him will see is a strange sight of a man arrested in the dead-center of the hallway whose short, shallow breaths give more away than he seems to notice.]


ａｓ Ｉ ｗａｎｔ ｙｏｕ ｔｏ ｂｅ．
[WILDCARD: Hit me up with anything else you could possibly want from an angry born-to-be-King who sneers and insults a lot more than he ought. Drag him along on an adventure, if you're so inclined. He'll throw fits: fun for the whole family.]

I, possibly with retail therapy?

[seeingscarlet]

[someone failed his hide check]

Loki?

[Wanda catches sight of a familiar coat from behind, and there's nothing from this vantage point that suggests anything is amiss. Clearly she recognizes him, though her accent is likely unfamiliar, and from her tone it doesn't sound like she automatically considers him a problem. Wanda has a different perspective compared to the rest of the Avengers: she never met this Loki but the other one is both sort-of dating Billy and one of her best friends here.

...alternate universes are complicated.

To Wanda's credit, she manages not to look terribly surprised when she catches up and sees that he is suddenly blue. She already knew the truth of his parentage, but seeing him walking around in Jotun form is...new.

She doesn't comment on it - it didn't take being around the other one for a year to know better. In the end she settles for the flimsy but obvious:]

You're back.

[And maybe he'll actually remember her this time.]

Reinhardt | ROCK DRAGON Stalapidis | ota

[grandpaladin]

>> PRE-TRANSFORMATION | mini-colony
[Reinhardt has been unusually solemn about this whole ceremony. Maybe it's out of a desire to treat it with respect. Or maybe it's just that serious an occasion. Whatever the reason, he stands quietly during most of the festival, off to one side, two notes in particular in hand.]

[When offered the chance, he bows his head slightly, before setting the papers to burn.]

Thank you. For the chance to speak.

[He doesn't know if the person offering up the fire can understand him, but that won't keep him from thanking them, all the same. Who knows if Ana or Jack could really hear him, or read the messages? But it's some vague form of closure.]

[And the big man is grateful.]



>> HIM BIG DRAGON | mini colony
[... but pretty shortly thereafter, the somber, serious Crusader is gone. In his place is a giant monster made of stone. Missing one eye, pitted with cracks and scars, filled in with pale crystal. Crouched atop some building, fanning massive stone wings. It looks, oddly enough, like a dragon.]

[And oh boy, is it ever thrilled to exist.]

[It won't go in for any destruction, though. Just flying in huge, spiraling circles over the colony. Or lumbering through the streets with as much caution as possible.]

[Eventually, however, the giant that was Reinhardt is going to need to eat something. Which poses a problem. What does a creature like this even eat? Surely it can't be flesh... the thought is suddenly unappetizing. But what?]


>> WILDCARD | mini-colony still
[Anything else you want with the Great Stone Dragon?]

Wildcard - dreamland

[justice_from_above]

[Pharah has seen him at the party, and had later seen the large dragon flying around the city, but she hadn't made the connection. Instead, she had been preoccupied with her own transformation which, while not nearly as physically altering as Reinhardt's had been, was enough to throw her off her game. The Maleficus weren't an overly popular species, for reasons Pharah hasn't yet figured out, and she had been forced to make herself scarce among the locals.]

[On top of that, as Reinhardt would soon find out, she had a peculiar ability. When she finally base yet back to the shop and settled down to sleep, she no sooner had closed her eyes and drifted off when she awoke to find herself - fully dressed and, as far as she could discern, fully cogent - in an odd sort of smokey reality. Things started to coalese abs she watched curiously as a scene came into being before her very eyes ...]

Mettaton | HUMAN OMG???

[mttbrandlegs]

A. Goodnight, Beauties

Mettaton still didn't wander very much, not even when it came to that strange festival. He didn't warrant an invite since he was being antisocial. Apparently he did warrant a special privilege though. He doesn't realize it for a while though. He's using some free time to watch the stars forlornly on the observation deck, a hand pressed to the glass, when suddenly he feels a spell of dizziness.

A malfunction? That wouldn't be new, so he just takes a knee, closing his eye and taking a calming breath. It'll pass. It always passes. But this time...it doesn't. So he takes a seat on the floor properly this time and glances down at his SOUL. It's blurry in his vision. Why does he feel so weak? It's not discharged, there's no flicker.

...For the first time in his life, Mettaton doesn't deactivate. He falls asleep.

It's brief, of course, but long enough that his form does shrink a little into itself, undergoing some shifts. He sleeps through it all, flopping onto his side.

Another first: Mettaton snores, and it's not exactly the most attractive sound in the world. It'll likely draw attention. Perhaps you wish to rouse him? Please, save the ship from this cacophony.


B. DOES METTATON IS HUMAN?

When Mettaton finally wakes up, it's not in the most attractive manner. He feels...heavy. In a different way than he's ever experienced. And flat, very flat. He can't remember ever having laid on his side like this without his pauldrons making it difficult...

He's overcome by a very strange sensation all of a sudden, an urge to stretch out and a welling desire to take a deep breath and then...let it out.

Mettaton has never actually yawned, or stretched. It's very weird. As is the distinct sensation that he's uncomfortable with the temperature of the floor. He blinks tiredly, raising a hand to rub at his eye.

It's soft and warm.

The robot freezes for a moment, then braces an arm against the floor, pushing himself upright. Again, that strange sense of dizziness takes hold, and he throws his hand forward to steady himself against the window he'd passed out near.

Skin. Oh god that's skin. That's definitely...

Mettaton is extremely aware of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, and the beating of his own heart.

"I'm..." is all he manages, pushing himself to his feet for real this time. His arms and legs ache, as does his back. Even in the faint reflection of himself, he sees not a robot, but a human. A human.

"A HUMAN!!!" he exclaims, and then he's touching himself all over, laughing excitedly. "I'M HUMAN!! HOW--WHEN?!"

Yeah. Someone tell the crazy guy to quit screaming to himself, perhaps?

Oh...there he goes. Clad in a crop top with no sleeves, some basic pants, and his signature pink boots, Mettaton runs from one side of the deck to the other. He's ecstatic!!!

He's human!


C. What Comes Up...Must Fall Down

Eventually, Mettaton comes to realize that he's not infallible this way, and that he does get tired. So after a few round trips through the Moira, seeing people and experiencing things in a new way--including the garden, of course--he's starting to wear down, and as his euphoria wears off, he realizes that his face really hurts, as do his arms. Reaching a hand up, he touches his left cheek, then winces.

"Ow."

He glances at his fingers. That's...that's definitely blood. He glances at his arm, frowning. Yeah, he's pretty cut up actually. Where had those come from? Well, no matter. He tries to find someone, anyone who can help him. He's never been injured this way before, and it's a little worrying.

"Excuse me--yes, you! Could you help me? I was wondering if you know what to do about these!!"

At which point, he holds up his right arm, which definitely looks pretty bad. Not that he has to, the cuts on his face should be enough. It's surprising that he wasn't deterred before, unless whoever he hails happens to know that pain doesn't bug him that much.


D. No One Give This Boy A Cinnabon

Mettaton is eventually patched up, a big square bandage on the left side of his face and both his left upper arm and right forearm securely bandaged. He's still not sure where he acquired such injuries, but once they were tended to, he came across a very different problem.

Hunger. That was definitely a new experience, and he wasn't prepared for that gnawing emptiness and the need to sate his appetite. Asking around once again proved useful, and he finds himself in the galley, making himself a simple meal. He considers spaghetti, but...that makes him upset, so he just boils noodles and has those. He figures he ought to start simple anyway, since this is his first meal.

...As it turned out, it wasn't going to be his last, because although the spaghetti noodles were plain, but filling. And being able to taste them is an experience in and of itself. He wants to experience more! So, he tries the first prepackaged thing he can find; a doughnut.

This was a mistake, but not one he regretted in the least.

From outside, there's a lot of rustling and crackling heard over the next few minutes, punctuated by pleasurable noises. Anyone who peeks their head in will find Mettaton sitting on the floor, stuffing his face with whatever he could find--potato chips, doughnuts, candy...

If it was premade, bad for you, and tasted good, then he was eating it.

Somebody should stop him before he makes bad decisions, but until they do, he's just going to keep enjoying his sensual overload.

E. Wildcard

[Got an idea that doesn't fit any of the premade prompts? Want me to make you a specific starter? Just reply with whatever you want here, PM me, or hit me up on my plurk @ Grimmkitty!

C!

[fallensparrow]

Ironic, that the person Mettaton just so happens to hail down for his injuries looks rather like a robot himself. The last thing Genji had been expecting to turn around to was a man questioning him about the multitude of injuries all over his body. He's startled, and it shows in the second of silence that follows before Genji restarts back into action and speech.

"What happened?" He carefully reaches out, grip gentle on Mettaton's arm, simply steadying it so Genji can try and get a sense of how bad the cuts actually are through all the blood that's welled up. It could just be a multitude of smaller scratches, and that's what Genji wants to believe, given that the man doesn't seem to be adversely affected aside from apparently not knowing what to do about his own injuries. His head tilts, and his frown is hidden behind his faceplate, but the concern is obvious in his voice when he releases Mettaton's arm.

"You should check in at the medbay. It's hard to tell the extent of your injuries; it's best to side with caution. I can accompany you, if you wish."

Given the fact that this man doesn't even know what to do when he's bleeding so much, Genji is keen on keeping an eye on him until he can get proper treatment. It wouldn't do to leave him be only to find out something had happened to him later.

76 | awoo

[mylawn]

this part is closed

a. to mercy (cw: body horror)
[76 didn’t even go to that stupid festival.

Not that he knows what’s causing whatever this is—he’s generally a little unstable on a good day, and the last thing he expects is this, crawling out of his own skin and changing somehow. It’s slow enough at first that he doesn’t notice, but as soon as he does, all of the work he’s put into convincing himself that the Moira is real goes out the window because this has to be a hallucination.

It should occur to him that losing his composure is exactly what this probably-Talon simulation wants—for him to break down and seek out the (definitely also part of the simulation) ex-Overwatch agents, chasing the familiar and letting important intel slip in the process. But despite all of his military training and all the duress he’s able to withstand on a normal basis (to say nothing of his sheer stubbornness and commitment to his six-year charade), what’s happening to him is something for which he has no frame of reference. He’s panicking despite every effort not to, and Angela is the first person to come to mind, an involuntary reflex—an automatic hindbrain response that has no regard for who he is now and what he’s trying to hide. She’s his doctor. She’ll know what to do.

It’s that half-coherent thought that has him all but clawing his way into Medbay, straining against his body armor, even though the more rational part of him is screaming that if he does this, if he lets her this close, he’s going to be compromised. Unfortunately, the situation isn’t exactly allowing him to be rational.]

Doctor Ziegler.

[His voice is low, rough as usual, but hopefully loud enough to get her attention if she’s here (of course she’s here—he knows her too well). 76 manages not to call her Angela, at least. Small victories.]

b. + genji
[He doesn’t leave the medbay immediately post-transformation, though he knows if he were smart, he’d get out as soon as possible. There’s no accounting for exhaustion, however, and to say he’s shellshocked by the experience is probably an understatement. He isn’t going anywhere for a few long moments, even if he desperately wants to.

76 doesn’t say anything to Angela, just watches her intently, perhaps to the point where it’s uncomfortable. By the time they got his mask off, he’d been unrecognizable, but he still feels exposed, like something’s going to occur to her as he sits in the medbay in silence, blowing everything wide open.

It’s awkward. It’s really awkward and terrible and BOY WOULDN’T IT BE THAT MUCH WORSE IF SOMEONE WALKED IN HERE RIGHT NOW.]

this part is open - dogsong.mp3

[Once the initial shock wears off (sort of, 76 isn’t sure it’s going to wear off), the whole thing is mostly embarassing. He tries to stay away from people as a rule, but now it’s basically all he wants to do—though he knows he can’t possibly be that lucky.

76 ends up slinking around the Moira and the mini colony when the spaceship proves to be too stifling. Still, it’s hard to be discreet when you’re suddenly an overly-large space werewolf on a ship that is entirely too small, at least where going unnoticed is concerned.

The other unfortunate thing is his temper, which is already kind of terrible, but seems to have been kicked into overdrive by stress or something else, maybe. Suffice to say that running across him either on the ship or otherwise might not be a pleasant experience, depending on how he’s approached.

He is, however, pretty hard to miss.]

wildcard

((I’ll do whatever you want! 76 is lurking around the mini colony and the Moira. He’s a space werewolf who didn’t get the memo that it’s good to stick around the other space werewolves. He is Ready for a Fight. Hit me up on plurk at whitticus if you want to hash something out!))

u kno what I'm here 4

[cadeuces]

[ So far so good for Angela, who has yet to make it down to the festival and as of yet remains normal— thee good doctor has been marking down supplies taken out of the medbay and noting what medicines need to be replenished soon when a familiar face in that red white and blue coat nearly stumbles in, catching her attention immediately with the scuff of boots on the tile and his heavy breathing muffled by the mask, rumbling out her name.

Something's wrong. She's on her feet immediately and trotting right to his side, a guiding hand at his elbow drawing him in, turning him to one of the exam rooms so she can shut the door behind them if he wasn't about to whisk her off elsewhere. He was a man that values his privacy, and she can feel the odd rippling as much as she can now see it, leather creaking and stretching as his muscles roil beneath the skin— even if she doesn't know what is going on yet, she's sure she's about to find out. ]

I'm here; what's wrong?

Ronan Lynch ☘ Unchanged

[nightmarist]

upside down and inside out (open to all)

[Ronan, being the opposite of a friendly and inviting person, has managed to avoid any so-called blessings by evading every colonist who looked like they might even consider approaching him. He's landed in Section 25, instead: A park unbound by gravity, behaving like almost as much of a dream thing as his beloved Cabeswater back home. Water and flower petals float toward the sky. Reality bends in a way that Ronan finds nostalgic. Out of anything he's seen since he arrived only days ago, this is the closest to his natural habitat.

Still barefoot after the unexplained loss of his combat boots, Ronan walks along the path while his pet raven Chainsaw flies in a disoriented pattern a few feet overhead. She can't quite seem to gather her bearings, but she doesn't seem particularly distressed about it. If a raven can possibly look like she's playing around, that's Chainsaw in the moment. And even Ronan almost looks like he's smiling while he watches her.]

in a nightmare (maleficus only)

[The dream is a forest in autumn. The leaves of the surrounding trees are on fire with fall colors, impossibly brilliant hues of red and orange and gold. They look as if the sun is shining directly onto them, but the sun is nowhere to be seen, the sky darkening into dusk. The effect is uneasy, the way the foreground looks too bright when there are storm clouds lurking in the distance.

Ronan stands in the center of a small clearing, gazing into a pool of water lapping at his bare feet. His brow is drawn in deep concentration, eyes fixed on the water as if he sees something in there. Whatever it is he's looking at, it isn't visible to his guest. Getting closer to the water only reveals it to be an opaque, impossible blackness.

So busy with his work, Ronan doesn't notice he has company just yet.]

[heisenbitch]

[ Jesse had wound up in the park because of a floating pumpkin. The pumpkin hadn't been doing anything except floating by, but it had creeped Jesse the hell out enough that he'd taken a sharp left into the park with his hands buried deep in his pockets and a wide-eyed, utterly perturbed look thrown over his shoulder just in time to see the pumpkin float on by.

And then, continuing ahead, he'd come to a slow, incredulous stop at the dreamlike weirdness that surrounded him. Slowly, he had resumed walking, the creepiness of the floating pumpkin fading into the background while trying to take in everything around him.

It's how Jesse winds up deep in the park, fear caving to mystified curiosity and awe. God, this place is weird. Eerie and disorienting and unnerving and magnificent and magical, all at once, with its dizzying backwards gravity.

He trails off another spiralling pathway onto another around a bend of trees, and hesitates in his step at the unexpected sight of Ronan on the path up ahead. Oh, great, is Jesse's immediate sinking thought. He slows to a stop, though, and as he watches the bird flutter and play about, he's almost a little curiously amused even despite how creepy he still finds that thing. ]

She likes it here, huh?

Ahsoka Tano | human | OTA

[divagated]

a: transformation central

[When Ahsoka agreed to participate in the festival, this was not what she expected out of it. She had always been fascinated by the traditions and festivals of different cultures. It was part of being a Jedi, learning about other races and peoples, to help keep the balance of peace between everyone. Participating seemed like a good way to learn more about these locals, not to mention she felt it would have been rude to refuse, after being so generously invited.

And everything was fine, too, until that blessing. She felt off pretty quickly, having to find a place to sit while she waited for the feeling to pass. Only, it didn't go away, not completely. She felt like her senses were numb, which was far too familiar to how she felt after her montrals were turned to glass not so long ago, triggering a small panic in her. It was when she went to reach up and check on them that she realized they weren't even there. Her white and blue montrals had been replaced with dark locks of hair.

Brb, time to find something close enough to a mirror to check this out better! Anyone in passing might notice the former-Togruta looking at herself in a glass window, pulling on her new hair and ears and fussing the whole time.]

Oh, you have got to be kidding me?! I'm human?!

b: wildcard
[During the week, Ahsoka can be found in the cargo bay working, the gardens for meditation, or the training simulation room for training purposes. Don't be surprised if she's a little grumpy about the change.]

b in the gardens

[brokeassgoing]

[he'd probably spotted her the second he marched in here but hadn't bothered to say anything. she was probably medi-sleeping. that's a yoga thing, right?

Today Badou isn't here for peace. No, he's on a mission. An important one. One that involves plucking certain plants, looking at them, then ultimately tossing them with a grunt of frustration. He trails along doing this until he crosses her path on the grass there. He shoots her a wry look and, just for lack of conversation and also the Answer to his mystery, says:]

Think you could smoke this?

[its a maple leaf so maybe not.]

peter parker | unchanged; ota!

[trainees]

a. lost teenage boy in colony; if found, please return

[ it's one thing to suddenly find yourself in space, but it's another thing to suddenly find yourself in space during a festival. peter doesn't really know what's happening or what he's doing, but he goes exploring anyway because why not? it's not like he won't be stuck on the spaceship for the rest of his time on the moira, so he might as well go and stretch his legs a little.

he doesn't participate in the blessing, avoiding the lamaria and sticking to himself. the last thing he wants is to participate in some cultural thing that results in him messing it up somehow with major consequences (little do you know, peter); besides, he always tended to do his own thing anyway. he can be seen wandering through some of the sectors but sticking relatively close to the spaceship, poking around at whatever piques his interest. whatever weird transformation happening to others goes unnoticed by him for the most part, as he just assumes they're natives to the colony.

but maybe he bumps into you while he's distracted with the sights. well, nearly. he manages to catch himself at the last second, pausing mid-stride to step back and avoid a collision. his gaze comes back to earth (so to speak), and he's quick to blurt out an apology. ]

Whoa, sorry. [ he gives a brief once over, just to make sure he didn't accidentally step on whoever he almost ran into. ] My bad.

b. bring your kid to museum day (locked to voicelog)

[ after completely making an ass out of himself exploring earlier, peter decides it might be better to continue exploring with a guide. t graciously steps in to fill the role. what a good guy.

so here he is, waiting outside the main entrance of the ship, rocking back and forth on his heels as he waits for t. he's excited, obviously. there were hints of maybe visiting a museum and robot animals and he is All About robots and museums. ]

c. wildcard

[ literally anything goes! peter is very new to everything so feel free to run into him wherever whenever, or drag him along for shenanigans. if you wanna have your angry space werewolf/vampire/rock dragon/bonsai feline/noodle/pumpkin/etc strife him, please be my guest. peter will flip his shit. anything your heart desires i am cool with.

alternatively, feel free to PM me or hit me up at ramparts if you wanna hash things out! ]

[seeingscarlet]

[You know what feels really weird to a psychic? A bunch of people changing into something else. Wanda's not sure she should be out here when she can't quite get a handle on what's causing the ambient weirdness, but if there are people who need help...

Wanda's attention is not entirely grounded in the physical world, so maybe it's not entirely Peter's fault that he almost crashed into her. She has no reason to recognize him since she's never seen his face even in her lost memories, which is probably better for all involved.]

Be careful. Not everyone here is nice.

riptide / tf: idw / ota / cw for nudity

[knaval]

#pantsarebullshit

[changing into a human isn't as painful as riptide would've thought. it's honestly changing back that he's not looking forward to - but by this point he's used to all the stupid crap the universe has to throw at him.

that being said, the sensory experience is like several firecrackers going off in his head. the difference between his mechanical senses to organics is like being suddenly deaf and blind, so he ends up staring at his hands for a good ten minutes trying to figure out just what the hell.

then he decides that he doesn't like this cloth all over him. it feels like sharp little knives scraping against his overly sensitive mesh-- skin? so he does the obvious thing. he takes it all off.

have a naked person sitting in the observation deck (because naked people are funny), twirling their hair around their fingers. this is weird, this is so weird.]

what's the deal with airline food?

Ow! What the-- frag! [the shock of the burning in his mouth makes riptide launch the hot mug across the room, scowling at it as it shatters on the floor.] This is stupid!

Oi! [the closest person is yelled at.] Human food is bloody horrible!

wildcard

[yo]

#fuckpants

[newnova]

[ Sam's still pretty new-- only got kidnapped here an hour or so ago, and he's still set on the idea of finding a way off the ship and flying home. He's got his helmet on, using it to try to map the ship and find the docking bay, and it's when he rounds the corner to the observation deck that he gets a little, well, distracted from his mission. ]

Holy--! [ He backs away, turning his back to the NAKED LADY and turning a particularly embarrassing shade of pink under his helmet. ] What are you--? You're naked! Wh-- Why are you naked?

lúcio / overwatch / ota

[wallride]

a little more than a cosplay

Okaaay. This is-- [lúcio cuts himself off as he feels like he's suddenly forgotten how to walk. how to blink. it's not entirely inaccurate; drell have two sets of eyelids.] ...Woah.

[he runs his hands up his neck, wincing slightly at the feel of them over his-- shit, are those gills? god, that's weird. up to his head, dreads are gone. obviously. why would a frog have hair? lúcio stays like this in the hub booth for a few moments, before speaking quickly into the radio mic:] Uh. Show's gonna have to end early today, folks. Tune in tomorrow!

wildcard

[hit me up yo]

i hate that im doing this but im doin it

[brokeassgoing]

[Ultimately Badou feels iffy about having a roommate. It's been years since he's had to sacrifice his privacy (...what privacy when his ass is on display...), and now not only is he in space, he's got a roommate?

Thankfully he hasn't seen him around. He's had a chance to get his (minimal) crap situated, and now he's lounging in his bed.
It sure would be awful if someone, say, a giant frog with hair would return to his room....]

Thane Krios || Human || OTA

[psychadrellic]

☄ TRANSFORMATION CENTRAL
To say that he had been nonplussed by the gradual changes in his body that rendered his respirator completely (but thankfully) unnecessary, but which had also drastically changed his appearance and apparently his entirely biology, was a bit of an understatement. The vibrant greens of his skin have shifted to the color of burnt umber, fine scales replaced by smooth skin and countless tiny hairs. The black hair on his head is longer and fuller and obnoxious, but he finds that it slicks back fairly well when wet with water. His eyes are smaller and more almond-shaped than round, although for some reason his sclera are still black and blend almost seamlessly with the dark green of his irises as they've always done.

What weirds him out most, though, are his fingers. He can't always be staring, mildly perturbed, into a mirror, but there's nothing to stop him from seeing his hands at any given time. The webbing between the second and third digits has disappeared, and he can move all ten of his fingers independently now, although he does note with some amused interest that his ring fingers still seem to be beholden to the motion of his middle fingers. Is that something all humans experience, or is it, like his eyes, just a holdover from his natural physiology?

As far as the medbay staff can see, there's no real reason for him to remain sequestered away. His human lungs are as healthy as it's possible for a pair of human lungs to be. Strange things like this happen all the time aboard the Moira, he's assured. It's likely not a permanent change, so they don't recommend leaving the ship, but he should get out and stretch his legs while he has the opportunity to do so.

[1: In the Medbay]
[Given his clean bill of health (for the time being, anyway), Thane can briefly be found in his assigned medbay room, donning his clothing in preparation to leave. Any unsuspecting visitors may walk in on what seems to be a strange human man pulling on Thane's signature black jacket - the one with the tails and the chest- and back-windows - and the resident drell nowhere in sight.

Confront this obviously thieving man, y/n?]

[2: In the Vents]
[Thane's never been a big fan of moving about in the open, so he's back in the vents pretty quickly after leaving the medbay. He's not quite sure where he's going - maybe the observation deck? Back to the residential decks, perhaps? Who knows! - but he's definitely not expecting to encounter anyone else in the vents.

Ruin his sense of isolation and safety, y/n?

[3: Observation Deck]
[He's never felt more conspicuous in his life, although in fact his new humanity has rendered him - on this ship populated mainly by humans - almost completely unremarkable.

If not for his distinctive clothing, ramrod-straight perfect posture, and distaste for duplicity, he could easily pass for a new arrival among those he knows. Probably. His eyes and his voice - which still sounds as though he's spent his life chain-smoking and then eating his cigarettes - are probably still dead giveaways as to his identity. Among those he has yet to meet, however, he's likely to give them some kind of a surprise when things go back to normal.

There's a particular bench on the observation deck that he favors, because it gives him an excellent view both of the stars and of the other people watching the stars. He often shares it with another somewhat reticent, introverted guy, although for the time being the space next to him is empty.

Intrude on his solitude, y/n?]

[4: Wildcard]
[Choose your own adventure!]

2

[brokeassgoing]

[Badou expected big ass space bugs or rats up here, dust motes and maybe someone's stash of space drugs-- ordinary things that won't bring about too much question (except maybe the ownership of the aforementioned space drugs).

What he wasn't expecting was some random guy squirreled up here, looking at him with intent.]

What Alien 2 hell is this?!

Alan Bradley | Program | OTA

[alan_1]

turn and face the strange (around the colony)
[It’s starts after the ceremony. After the blessing, to be specific. Though Alan hadn’t understood most of what the Lamaria cleric had said, the words have nonetheless left him feeling strangely off-kilter. He spends the rest of the evening feeling like he’s bracing for something, though what that something is, he can’t be sure.

He doesn’t have to wonder for long.

It starts as a wave of dizziness, easy enough to ignore at first, but quickly escalating to the point where he makes himself stop, one hand braced against a wall, to wait for the ground to stop pitching beneath him. His mind reaches for an explanation, remembers how most of the crew had been drugged on the last planet -- and then abruptly shuts off, all thought suspended as effectively as if he had taken an icepick to the forehead. He stays stalled, one hand still braced against the wall, for several seconds before thought returns. Only, it's not what it was.

Data and associated tags filter in, first registering visual input error, as prim and matter-of-fact as a message on a computer screen. Alan blinks, noticing the blur overlaying his vision, and after a moment of uncertainty, reaches for his glasses. His hand makes it about halfway there before he stops, staring. His hand is glowing. At least, part of it is, a stripe of light stretching down the back of his wrist to branch down into his first two fingers, burning an all-too-familiar gold.

Circuits. The sight of them makes less than no sense. Info tags slot helpfully into place, indicating [sensory input] [energy exchange] [function declaration], none answering the question of why they’re there in the first place. He scrubs at the back of his hand as if that might make the glowing lines disappear, frowning when they remain just as bright and solid as before.

There must be something wrong. He must be hallucinating or dreaming or simply misunderstanding what’s happening, because humans don't have circuits. All of this might make sense if he were a program, but he’s quite sure he’s not--

A pause. Alan takes a deep breath and then, reluctantly, reaches back. His hand finds the curved edge of a disk, right where it should be.

He exhales, and removes his glasses, no longer completely surprised to find that his vision is now clear -- perfect even -- without them. He looks at the glowing circuitry on the back of his hand, lines even sharper than they had been before. After a moment, he lowers his hand and mutters a single word under his breath.]

Shit.

ch-ch-changes (science department, moira)
[For the most part, Alan does his best to hide the transformation. His coat thrown over his uniform hides the outline of his disk and most of the glowing circuitry, save that on his hands. The only reasonable remedy he’s found for the latter is keeping his hands safely hidden in his pockets -- it’s at least less conspicuous than gloves would be.

The disk, he knows, is the most dangerous piece of the transformation. Losing it would very literally mean losing his mind, and having it fall into someone else’s hands… well, suffice to say Alan’s been having trouble keeping his back to people ever since he received the Lamaria’s blessing. Still, it’s only a matter of time before his curiosity outweighs his caution.

He waits until after-hours in the science department, feigning concentration on the computer screen in front of him until the last of his crewmates have left. Then it’s simply a matter of reaching back and detaching the disk from its place. Resting on the desk in front of him, it could be any program’s. That is, until he lays a hand on it and the central ring lights up an unmistakeable yellow.

The twinge of discomfort that follows isn’t just from the color. What little experience Alan has had with disks has been consistently unpleasant and the concept of manipulating someone’s very being with code still unsettles him. He tries to brush off his uneasiness; it’s his disk -- he isn’t hurting anyone by taking a look.

A thought is all it takes, and motes of light pour from the disk’s center. They swirl above it for a moment before clustering into a defined shape: a smaller reflection of Alan himself, picked out in midair.]

changes

[a_shadow]

[ She didn't really mean to wait until it was this late to come talk to Bruce about arranging to store the AI units she recovered from the scrap yard. She's pulled all the circuitry and electronics out, yet she's still not quite willing to just dispose of them. They're still potentially usable for manipulating AIs, and that means they need to be locked up securely. Somewhere in the science department seems best, rather than just sticking them in the cargo bay.

She's still relying on a cane to get around, though she needs it less and less. She's hardly even using it as she walks into the department. She recognizes Alan right away—as well as the object he's holding. She knows those discs are important, according to how Rinzler acted when they found him in the vent, and considering who it is holding it, she suddenly knows just why Rinzler had been so sensitive about its integrity. ]

Hey.

[ The word is uttered sharply, and she takes advantage of the cane to start walking faster, coming toward him. ]

Dutch Velders | sangui in space

[curiousnotmalicious]

T r a n s f o r m a t i v e | ( mini-colony)

[ It’s only a short while after the ceremony that Dutch starts feeling a little strange. The changes creep up on her. First, an odd combination of itching and aching in her teeth and gums. She puts her fingertips to her upper row of teeth to find that her canines are gradually growing longer and it strikes panic in her. Immediately, she rushes to find a mirror, but being in the center of a crowd it doesn’t appear she’ll find one anytime soon.

As she darts between the strangers she feels her skin growing slightly colder and it’s that change that’s a slight comfort to her. The vampires that plague her world run hot. Still, she’s becoming something and that’s very disconcerting.

There are no mirrors in sight, but Dutch catches her reflection on another surface and she has to gasp. It’s not just her teeth that have changed. Dutch’s ordinarily tanned skin has faded to a deathly pallor and she can swear that her ordinarily grey eyes have turned a shade of red.

The horror is soon overcome, though, by an incredible ache in her stomach, a hunger like none she’s ever felt before. She has to eat. Now. ]


A d j u s t i n g | (anywhere)

[ She’s a vampire. She’s tasted blood. Dutch feels like she’s living a nightmare. While she isn’t one of the Strigoi, that is only the smallest of blessings at the moment. All she can think of is her conversation with Jesse through the MID. This is a transformation and there’s probably no way back from it. It’s a very bleak way of looking at her situation, but it’s hard for her to see silver linings right now.

Tears are threatening to spill from her blood red eyes as she walks along, keeping to herself. Her arms are folded, hugging her chest tightly. Now that she’s fed the hunger isn’t quite as bad, but it’s still there, invading every thought in her mind. She’s so preoccupied with her own thoughts that she barely notices anyone else around her. ]


W i l d c a r d

[ Throw me something great! Anything! ]

adjusting

[brokeassgoing]

[thank god space food isn't packaged, or airtight like the astronaut's deal. but he's got a tray of something or other, and of course nothing healthy, and he's just passing by in the hall when he knocks his shoulder into someone else.

He reels, drops what is hopefully pudding from his tray--]

Shit-- Watch--

[and then he sees her face, how upset she is.]

Aw hell...don't tell me some dog broke up with you as soon as ya got here?

arno dorian // vampires in SPAAAAAAACE // ota

[cockade]

[a. 2SPOOPY4ME (transformation)

He hadn't honestly participated much in the festival- he'd been invited and agreed to it, but kept to himself and was actually up and away from most views as he watched what went on below. As much as he respected it, it pained him for home and for the Drabwurld, and he'd rather spend the time remembering by himself, rather than with people.

For the first time in a long while, Arno realizes he feels incredibly lonely.

The MID places some meaning behind words to a blessing he doesn't understand, and he listens, but doesn't do much else. A local native captures his eyes as he descends, red eyes locking onto his before she smiles, and is gone.

It's hours later that he feels his eyes begin to itch, as if he's scratched them for hours and they've run dry. Arno places a hand over his eyes and sighs, rubbing them slightly. Did he overwork himself again? Is he exhausted from both the party and now being in the mini colony for too long? But the itch doesn't recede, only gets worse. And now his mouth aches along with his eyes itching, the Frenchman growing irritated and chomping down on his teeth in an effort to make the ache go away. Which only makes it worse, because he suddenly finds that he's biting the inside of his mouth without even pressing down on his jaw too hard.

Suddenly it's no longer a question of being tired- something is clearly wrong.

He makes his way through the crowds and tries to head to the Moira, eventually leaning against a wall of a building and trying to keep a stoic facade. That, of course, fails miserably. All different types of people and creatures pass him by, and he tries not to notice the fact that every part of him is beginning to feel cold the longer he stays there. He eventually searches for someone, anyone who may know where the ship is. He needs to get to the medbay.]

Where is the Moira? [He's caught the attention of some passerby, who begin to speak with him. His tone is far more aggressive than he wants, but he's panicking and it's beginning to show in how his now red eyes flicker across everyone that passes by.] I need- I need to see someone at the medbay. [They offer him a few local doctors for the mini colony, but he shakes his head, insisting to be brought back to the ship.] No, thank you, but I need to get back-

[A native wanting to help reaches out to touch his shoulder, gently placing a hand to ask if he's alright. Arno instead whirls and hisses, teeth revealed to have become fangs now bared, before he shrinks back in absolute terror at what he's done. This is wrong, all of it is wrong. He steps back, away, trying to distance himself from everyone and just get out.]

I'm sorry, I didn't mean- just let me be!

[Someone is clearly spooked and not taking this transformation well at all.]

[b. Because we're all technically monsters, darling (closed to Isha)

Moro #8 has been rather quiet as of late, Arno choosing to not stay in one place for very long most of the time. He's sure that Isha doesn't mind, seeing as they haven't had many problems or very few as of yet in their time being supposed "roommates."

As of right now, however, it's occupied with a potential brooding space vampire, and he's not really wanting to open the door to anyone. He isn't exactly expecting someone to barge in, though.

c. They did the mash (they did the Monster Mash)

Getting used to being a Sangui takes time- Arno is incredibly adaptive, but even he struggles to be in full control when it comes to becoming a new species entirely. Case in point: while feeding is something he's learned how to work with, it's turning into bats that's proving to be the one thing he's lacking control in. The bat swarm is small, but it flitters about to and fro depending on how Arno feels when he becomes the small flock. Being startled usually is the cause; that and feeling certain emotions tend to do it as well.

He's making his way around when he turns a corner and nearly bumps into someone. Only instead of bumping into them, he suddenly becomes a flock of bats and flies all around them before rejoining. Arno turns immediately and looks for whoever he's run into, hands raising up in an apology.]

Sorry, my apologies. I'm still not used to this whole thing.

[wildcard]

(have something? hmu and I'll roll with it!)

2spoopy4me

[bloodbinds]

[ The transformation is...odd. Not painful, not really, but her skin changes colors, her hair becomes rope-like and strange, and the power that hums through her is strange. The people around her who notice seem to shy away, less out of fear and more of out derision and revulsion, and Ava recoils, afraid of what might happen. The headpiece she's been given by the girl on the colony is still affixed to her brow and she has half of a mind to flee by sky.

But there's someone else who's freaking out, and he's having a hard time of it. He's asking for the medbay and she knows he must be from the Moira. Even with her condition, she wants to help. ]

Here, over here. Let's go.

[ She hopes he'll trust her, but he, too, recoils, shouting that he wants to be left alone. Ava isn't certain if he's speaking to her or someone else. ]

No, wait-- I'm from the Moira. I can help you. [ Her voice wavers, unused to being assertive. She sounds more scared than anything. ] I'm not your enemy.

Frisk | Boss Monster | OTA

[gainedlove]

A: If you're cuter...

[Frisk isn't near the festival when the blessing takes place--they'd wanted to, but their family has retreated to the ship and they can't afford to leave them without protection. So when the change comes, it's without any warning--just a sudden feeling of weakness, an intense pain in their chest, feeling like their body is fading--]

[Thankfully, it's over quickly.]

[They gasp sharply and fall against a wall, sliding down and clutching at their chest with eyes squeezed shut. They feel--odd, insubstansial but somehow still there, as if their body is at a step removed. And there's something else, too, something about their face and hands, and their whole body is itching--]

What...?

[Then they open their eyes and...um. Well, then. This is new.]

B: "Friendliness pellets"

[Once the shock has worn off, Frisk is quite happy with their change. Thrilled, even, running gleefully around the whole ship hopping and shouting and generally being a very cheerful little child. They're not going off-ship any time soon, not like this, but while it lasts they're going to enjoy the heck out of being...a real, actual part of their family.]

[They just wish Chara could be here here for this.]

[But the thing about monsters is that their magic is an expression of their emotions. Sure, they can be an attack, but they can be a bullet-patterned birthday card, too. Or, for a young boss monster with no idea how to control their new-found powers, a small incident in the making.]

No no no no no...!

[It's probably a little alarming to see a small child chasing down a roaming fireball, especially as it sways and floats all up and down the hall, getting dangerously close to some of the more flammable objects around. Frisk jumps and tries to catch it, but it it floats a little too high and they land flat on their face as the fire finally makes contact with the corner of a wooden table.]

[A little help, maybe?]

C: Wildcard!

[Come pester me on PM or over at gryphcat if you have another idea!]

B

[inruins]

[The commotion is hard to miss. Even if she's rather freshly out of cryo (again much to her agitation), Toriel can't ignore the sound of running down the hall or the feeling of magic burning brightly. She's only been awake for a short while, but she can't ignore this. The hallway around the medical bay isn't a place made for fire, much less monster fire.

The boss monster stifles her surprise at seeing another monster, moving to catch the fire ball before it whizzes by in her hands. It stings at her paw pads initially before she cups both hands around it, stifling the fire.]

Time to go out. [Centuries of practice makes the fire fizzle out in her hands. When the fire is quashed she glances to the brown boss monster, not realizing just who it is yet.] Are you alright?

Ginko | Erant | OTA

[notyetsore]

A - ther he go (Moira hallways)

Something is coming your way. Something smallish and fast-moving, its approach announced by a clattering of claws against the floor and a soft, ongoing whimpering that gets louder and closer by the second.

A scrawny, pale-furred young Erant with only one eye crashes with a startled yelp into whoever happens to be in his way. It doesn’t take him more than an instant, though, to scramble back to his feet and backward a few steps, his shoulders hunched and hackles raised as he stares at whoever he bumped into with a mix of suspicion and terror.

Suffice it to say, Ginko is not having a great day.

B - cornered (Library or garden)

Eventually, he finds somewhere he can stand to be. It’s quiet, and it’s familiar, and in the end he just tucks himself into a corner of the room, left with only the pounding of blood in his ears and his own quick, shallow breaths as his mind runs in pointless circles that he can’t seem to slow or stop.

Where are they where are they where where where where he’s alone, he’s trapped, why? He isn’t even totally sure who he’s looking for, part of his mind isn’t sure he should be looking for them - do they even want him? Is he wasting his time, their time, he should be fine on his own but he won’t be, he won’t, where are they--

A soft whine rises from the shadowy corner, and he draws in on himself, still staring out, wide-eyed, at the open space in front of him, as if still expecting some previously-unnoticed threat to appear.

B

[gainedlove]

Frisk pauses mid-step, staring at the odd monster with wide, confused eyes. Whoever it is, they look a lot like Ice Wolf. But their fur is a lot lighter, and the color of their eyes--

No. Their eye.

"...Ginko?"

Something is wrong. Swallowing and holding up both hands, they take one small step closer, trying to see any sign of injury under the fur.

"'Re you okay? What's wrong?"

Fi | Hylian!

[dancingblade]

A. Day 1, in the colony

Fi had intended to leave the festival quietly, without much pomp or circumstance, because it felt as if that would be the most natural thing to do. She did not expect to run into someone - a Lamaria, she corrects herself - as she was leaving. But they offer a blessing and Fi does not even stop to consider the effects of it; she accepts without any consideration. The words aren't missed and she looks at the Lamaria a little curiously.

A blessing like this is different from the ones that were bestowed upon the Blade itself but very similar to the words of Her Grace.

She watches the Lamaria leave before setting off back towards the ship on her own. Fi notices there are small differences on her way back, small ones that could be overlooked to start but it gets steadily more difficult to move as time passes. The tip of her feet touches the ground once - twice - before a series of events causes her to realize that there's something very wrong with her.

Her feet grazes the ground and she feels it, the gasp of surprise coming out automatically as she feels the world spin around her in a way that she does not recognize. Her knees hit the floor and her hands extend out automatically to break her fall, but unaccustomed to the sense of weight, they buckle under her, scraping along the ground as she falls. Another involuntary hiss of pain comes out of her mouth as she lies there, short of breath and with a strange thrumming in her chest.

(She should call for help)

The MID, how did she call up the MID? --Ah yes.

A young Hylian pushes herself up into a seated position, staring at her hands with a wide eyed expression as she flexes her fingers again and again.

B. Day 2, on the Moira

Once she has returned to the Moira, things... Things continue to be overwhelming. Taste, smell, touch- all sensations that she has observed but none that she has felt first hand until now. But none of those were of particular concern at this moment. Instead, she is in one of the hallways, using the wall as a support while she attempts to learn how to walk properly. Fi couldn't rely on everyone for however long she is to remain this way, could she?

She swallows (it feels strange), tries to ignore the hollow feeling and refocuses her attention.

Fi's ability to move her body hasn't changed; she is as dextrous as ever. Now it's just the feeling of standing properly. She gently pushes off the wall, taking one step - wobbles - and then another - wobbles some more - and then collapses into an ungraceful heep with an undignified squeak.

... Maybe she ought to master how to simply stand first...

Wildcard.

[She'll be like this for a week, with mobility improving over time! Though Fi won't be running any marathons anytime soon, she will fall over if you push her. 8( For her own well-being, she'll actually stay on the ship unless someone wants to drag her out into the colony again.

Will match prose or action tags, send me a PM if you need to ask me anything!]

day twoooo

[hanzer]

The past few days had been a much-needed return to normalcy. Of course, it's a sad state of affairs when strange festivals and drastic transformations are what pass for "normal" around the ship nowadays, but when the alternatives are survival games and slave rings, Adam can cut some slack. Not like he'd complain, anyway. The precious few hours of leisure time are a welcome distraction from– well, everything. Feels like it's been years since he'd actually looked forward to the prospect of having nothing to do.

Ought to count his lucky stars too, considering he somehow managed to skip out on all the excitement of the celebrations and their accompanying "blessings." Not everyone had been quite so fortunate – like the girl (elf??) having issues in the hallway by the mess hall. New body? New arrival? Damned if he could tell. Either way, she looks like she could use some help and (total sucker for women in distress that he is) he can't exactly walk away without offering it.

"Hey– you alright?" Can't be looking at much worse than bruised knees and a similarly bruised ego from a fall as minor as that, but asking's a matter of courtesy. He offers a hand – all black metal and molded polymer and a sturdy grip – mild (if honest) concern written on his normally neutral features.

Kobra Kid | Space Vampire | OPEN [TW: blood, possible vioence]

[goodluckkobra]

ONE

Kobra has lived through some gruesome things. He's been burned, beaten, cut, stabbed and spat upon and that's just what he hasn't forgotten, because he's also collected a few concussions. None of that compares to the pain that shoots through his jaw as his fucking teeth change in his mouth. He almost falls out of his bed screaming as he scrambles to the mirror.

He's still shaking when he takes in the sight of his now-pale skin and red eyes and that's got nothing on the giant, pointy teeth. Once he can get his feet to work again, he scrambles out into the hall. Someone has to know what this is.

TWO

Kobra's still entirely unsettled by the change. He's not sure when this is going to stop, but he's taken to keeping odd hours and avoiding people, because the longer he's like this, the more he feels hungry and he's barely holding back the urge to jump almost everyone he sees.

For once, Kobra is the thing lurking in the shadows of the hallway, hands shaking as he tries to figure out what he's supposed to do with this feeling.

[ OOC Note: for the last prompt, Kobra may jump someone or try to bite them, so please let me know of your preferences. ]

[morethan084]

[People are acting strange, which really shouldn't say much considering Daisy's been seeing a lot of strange things even before she got dragged into this whole mess.

Still, people randomly screaming over things that aren't there... Yeah, it's got Daisy a bit frazzled. All thanks to this machine that messed with a lot of the ship members minds. What if it was just a matter of time until it happened to her too?

Just Daisy's luck that she's a night owl, right? No, not really. Not that she would ever think some sort of vampire would attack her.]

Carl Grimes | Maleficus transformation | OTA

[carltoaction]

1. partially transformed in the streets or the halls
[After a short exploration of the new planet, Carl wasn't sure what was going on with him for two reasons. The first was because he already had an chameleon like ability he gained from Teleios, the last world that had pulled him in for a lengthy stay, and for some reason he was finding himself seemingly unable to control it. The other reason was because he found himself through out the course of the first day changing to two colors. Gold on blue. Every bit of effort he put in to willing it away only seemed to hasten the process as well.

Eventually the only conclusion he could come to was that he was sick. Maybe he caught some alien cold or strain of infection that was responding to his ability and messing with it. (It doesn't even occur to him it could be because of the strange blessing he got, though it could have.) He was even starting to imagine that his hands were sparking or growing more warm the more upset he found himself with the change. That was never a good sign, he told himself. Which is why finally at that point, the kid decided to seek help. He made his way to the medbay, whether or not he felt like he wanted to trust someone he didn't know to look at him or he'd like being seen as more than just the one-eyed freak he already was. He walked quickly in the streets and the halls to get where he was going, not paying too much attention where he was going or the people.

Apologies if he runs into you, apologies to the medical professional that has to face the frown on his face when they first lay eyes on him.]

2. the wildcard
[After finding out nothing can be down about his condition but to possible wait it out and see, Carl keeps to himself for the part. He still keeps up with the basic activities of eating and doing his job, and occasionally going back to the planet to try finding answers to what happened to him, but not much else. He's scared of what people may think of him looking like he does, even more so than normal, so he goes out of his way to been unseen. Perhaps that's why it has the opposite effect and he bumps into your character or what not! Feel free to tag me with whatever you like, guys. PM me or find me on plurk if you are not sure or would like to plot it out.]