thisavrou_log | ( october event log pt. 2 )

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( october event log pt. 2 )

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.

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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. )

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Werewolves ain't real.

[Says the guy who definitely just had a spontaneous lycanthropic transformation. He seems content to grumble into the exam table, but really he's waiting for something to give him away, flinching at her touch though he really has no reason to. When it doesn't come, he ventures shifting a little, not exactly comfortable curled up on his side while she examines him.

It takes him a moment, but soon he's shrugging her off and sitting up, splaying his hands in front of him, turning them over to examine the black pads on his palms (he still has thumbs, at least), as if trying to decide whether or not this is real.

Which it is, apparently, and he almost asks for a mirror but has to stop himself. He settles for self-examination by touch, instead, inspecting the thick coat of white-gray fur on his arms and chest, hands traveling upward to assess the damage to his face. It's enough to make him wince.]

No.

[He still aches, but the sharpness of it is ebbing, so it's nothing he needs to bring up. There's a bigger problem, notably the fact that they still don't know what's caused this, or if it's even reversible.]

I'm afraid to say I've touched one with my very hands. They're about as real as can be.

[ Says the doctor speaking of her patient right here on her table, with a wry sort of quirk in her voice. (How many people in this world had blue eyes? Surely there was more than one American man with denim blue eyes. She's being ridiculous and Jack had left her six years ago. She's being foolish.) 76 flinches beneath her touch but she only persists stubbornly, maintaining it and thumb smoothing the dip between his eyes, touching his scar with feather lightness as she monitors the spike in his body temperature, stroking over his head until he's shifting uncomfortably and she offers an apologetic smile.

It'd essentially amounted to "petting", if one were to put too fine a point on it. It'd just be the wrong end of the pencil. Angela would have called it "soothing", as well as "necessary" to monitor his body. Thermometers were useless on his body as it is now. Eventually 76 shrugs her off to sit up and he's examining himself, her touching slipping off his head to careen off his shoulder, nails raking through the fur halfway down his back before she withdraws her hand properly. She remains seated, and they're nearly back to back as she turns to watch him check out his own hands (paws), certainly not missing the wince and curl of his lip as he feels his face.

Angela doesn't believe him about the pain; his motions are still a little stiff, but it likely wasn't enough to warrant mention. She'll let it slide. ]

I'm glad for that, at least. You know how these things have happened before; they don't last long. I'll be looking into it regardless, but I want you to remember that strange occurrences aren't so strange aboard this ship and this isn't the first time. We get the gist. Right?

[ She just wants to make sure he's all right before she starts poking around the MID or has to take off to the gardens or hunt down the reference books on the herbs and foreign medicines in the medbay. Which isn't to say he couldn't come with, but she doesn't expect him to, either. ]

There has to be some explanation.

[Something that could have caused this, but he already knows that they're not going to get any answers until it starts happening to other people, too. If it starts happening to other people. 76 doesn't really want to think about that--he has enough on his plate as it is.

It all feels a bit surreal, which he guesses is better than sheer panic, but that doesn't mean he's comfortable. He shifts awkwardly on the exam table, feeling her touch leave him. The silence hangs in the air for a few moments before he speaks up again.]

You were petting me.

[Don't think he DIDN'T NOTICE.]

I want to be sure you're stable before I investigate, but I'm sure there is an explanation.

[ Her conviction goes into it, because so far, that had held true— time distorted in an unstable part of the universe they'd passed through resulting in age fluctuations, the mantis people on the last planet had drugged their food and drink with a mild hallucinogen, and so on. Somehow, somewhere, there is a reason for this change. They just need to work on finding it and curing it. Time had taken care of the first, water from the pool she and Jesse had rested in had taken care of the second, so what's to come of the third?

At least his panic has ebbed. That fear and anger has diminished to a smolder, and he doesn't seem to be in as much pain the more he moves, for which she's glad.

Color immediately rises to her cheeks with the "accusation", stated so matter-of-factly she can't help but be defensive. ]

I was touching you. Your brow to monitor the fever that displacement of energy has put off, and I tried to soothe you otherwise. You're insulated now and your skin needs to be able to breathe so you can regulate your body temperature

[ DON'T SAY IT LIKE THAT??? GEEZ. ]

You were petting me.

[There's a little growl in his voice this time, but otherwise he doesn't seem to be hostile--perhaps he's too shell-shocked or exhausted to be. What he does know is that he didn't exactly hate it, which means it's time for him to extricate himself from this situation.

He slips off the exam table but is completely unprepared for the way his center of gravity has shifted, and he has to catch himself on the edge of it as he realizes that he's not carrying his weight the same. The top-heavy sensation suddenly makes sense, but 76 isn't exactly thinking straight as his legs nearly buckle under him and he digs his claws into the table.]

I'm not going to argue the minutiae of how I made physical contact, 76.

[ He may not seem hostile but he's drawing out her stubborn tone of voice that brooks no arguments, and the faintest hint of exasperation that obviously inflects "but I wasn't petting you" to the end of her spoken word. He's tired and he's shell-shocked from what had just transpired and she isn't going to offer resistance, but she tries to grasp his arm when he moves to get off the table with an aborted verbal warning before he's tipping forward and twisting to dig his claws into her (undamaged until now) exam table and try to keep himself upright.

Angela's off the edge and circling around in no time, a supportive hand under one elbow to urge him up to his feet. ]

A little slower, now— take your time to focus on where your weight is and how your limbs want to settle. It should come to you naturally, no matter what your mind may tell you.

[ Too many years of dealing with prosthetics has the words coming to her lips out of habit, supporting his weaker side where he's lower. ]

[He definitely wants to argue with her, reiterate that she was most certainly petting him, but figuring out how to walk is probably a higher priority at the moment. 76 can always come back to this.

The really sad thing is that he knows exactly where she's coming from when she tells him things like this. If he wasn't vaguely addled, he might find the familiarity comforting, not that he ever expected to be the recipient of this kind of advice.

He tries not to think about it, straightening and hauling himself up onto the balls of his feet. 76 realizes that his arms are thicker, longer, the pitch of his hips sort of indicating that he'll probably be able to get around on all fours just as well, if not better than on two feet. The thought makes him a little uncomfortable, so he decides not to give up on a bipedal stance just yet.

The solution seems to be to hunch slightly, accommodating the new angle of his pelvis and offsetting the weight of his upper body. When he feels stable, he tries to shrug off her hand.]

You can let go.

[ She's glad he chooses not to argue— yet, anyway. It's a good enough start and she turns his focus back onto holding his newly-shifted weight, where he'd likely need to bend at the knees for a sturdier base, standing with his feet further apart to make up for how he'd need to hunch forward. She can see it in his physiology already, how his body wants to settle, but she won't fuss overmuch.

Yet he listens, and hauls himself back up into something resembling what she had imagined. Much better. His elbow nudges out to shake her off and she'll let go, taking a step back to get a look at him now in full and his stance. ]

That looks significantly more comfortable for you. There's room for you to walk around the table if you want to give it a go.

[ Maybe once he's on the other side he can shed his boxers because really, it looks silly. A wolfman in underwear. ]

[He’s still a little wobbly, but she is right—as soon as he settles into the stance, it’s easier and more comfortable than what he was trying to do. 76 is sort of fighting off the urge to lope around using his hands, but it does seem he’s capable of remaining bipedal, so he’ll stick with that for as long as he can.

It doesn’t mean, however, that he’s more amenable to taking her instructions. He’ll walk around the exam table because he wants to, not because she’s telling him that he should. As soon as he takes a step, he’s reminded of the fact that he’s still wearing underwear—too tight, and half ripped, but he does her a favor and makes sure the fur is everywhere before he rids himself of it.]

If it’s all the same to you, I’m wondering if I shouldn’t stick around.

[76 won’t admit that he’s exhausted, but perhaps he can frame it like he’s offering himself up for observation, or any other tests she might want to run, especially if other people wander in with the same afflictions.]

[ He is still a little wobbly, but she lets him move on without her support when he keeps one hand on the exam table, steadying himself just fine on his own. And he does take her up on the suggestion, testing out the new body and way of carrying himself. It would take some practice, certainly. When he circles back around he's completely bared to her, head to toe in thick silvery fur and indeed being without a tail, muzzle scarred and revealing eerily blue eyes. Too familiar, too intelligent for what she's looking at— but she has no issue reconciling the beast before her with 76 even with such a different image. This is 76. She's spoken with him and spent time with him in spades.

It's nothing to worry about. It would fade, as these effects always did. She has no doubt about that, but his shoulders are still slumped and his movements sluggish enough to go beyond simple consideration. He's still tired. She takes the statements for the quiet request it is, and it would allow her to continue to check him out and try a few other attempts on his behalf for an earlier cure; win-win. ]

I think that would be for the best; would you like to lie down again? If not on the table in here, the room next door has a proper bed. Would you mind the company if I bring some research material in to sit with you? I need to comb over the records for the herbs here, but I still had a few ideas.

[ She's busy picking up and folding his clothes, "packing" them in his armor that she also gathers, separating the chest and back pieces of the torso to nest together and put his clothes inside. His boots are deposited in a bag to flatten on top of the clothes, finally topped with his mask and all wrapped in his jacket for one big bundle she can hug to her chest and wait for his decision on where to go. She'll begin moving toward the chair beside the door either way, because she'd leave his things there if he stays in the room. ]

[He shakes the remnants of his boxer shorts off his claws, apparently not concerned with the fact that someone is going to have to pick them up, unless Angela likes shreds of fabric all over the floor of her Medbay. When she looks at him, he straightens, taking in for the first time just how tall he is—he must be at least seven feet, likely more. Combined with all his added bulk, it makes the room feel small.

Angela is studying him, he can tell that much, and he’s again plagued with the slow bubble of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. She can’t possibly be recognizing him, can she? Maybe by his eyes, but—

76 tries to stomp it out. He hasn’t seen any shock on her face, and that’s the first emotion he’d expect when and if she puts two and two together. Instead, sh offers him ]

Don’t need a bed.

[Even if he could probably stand to rest, 76 doesn’t want to feel idle. He’s uncomfortable enough in this new body without a whole room to himself to contemplate. She starts touching his things and it takes a concentrated effort not to stop her and take over. Angela has all his gear bundled up before he can even reach out.]

Just do what you need to do. [Like she’s not being interrupted by a huge wolf man.] I’ll stay out of your way.

[ His height makes her feel small when he straightens, somewhere around Reinhardt's height, though not quite nearing his build. He turns down her offers as easily as ever, and she can only sigh as she goes to open the door, then, and will move to her "office"; really, more of a semi-private corner with three walls, but it did the trick well enough.

He's cagey enough as it is, and she doesn't imagine the closed-off room was helping much, so she'll leave to something more open and tipping her head for him to follow. ]

Fair enough then. I'm going to leave your things at my desk, all right? I'll show you where they'll be.

[ And once they leave the room, she'll do just that, tucking the bundle under her desk in the back left corner, pushing her chair in to hide them. Not that anyone would be going through her things in the first place, but still. ]

I know it's easier said than done, but please try to make yourself comfortable, 76. I'm going to get those materials.

[ She won't stop him from following her as she goes to gather up multiple handwritten texts. At least she hadn't brought the pup to medbay with her today; he's still learning to stay at her heel, after all, and it's been too hectic to really chance it. Poor thing likely would've had a heart attack seeing a similar dog so much larger and volatile than himself. ]

[He’s perhaps just the slightest bit relieved that she doesn’t insist on further observation, content to leave him alone while she takes care of other work.

Still loath to have someone else touching his things, he follows her more to make sure nothing happens to his visor than anything else, bending a little to peer under the desk after she stashes them. If this is temporary, as she suspects, 76 wants his gear nearby in the event he changes back without warning. That’s the last position he should be caught in, for obvious reasons.

76 finds a nice corner with a good view of the room, settling down into it and appearing to consider something before he speaks up. He’s watching her intently.]

Thanks, Doc.

[For trying, at least.]

[ She'll give him his time to recuperate; she would never push someone who's just been through what he's dealt with through tests and biopsies unless it were absolutely urgent, but his personality is still clear at the surface and the transformation is over. The bundle of his things are tucked deep into the shadows and she has a seat on the rolling stool as he occupies one of the corners, peering out over a good swath of the medbay. She has a particularly head-on view of the entrance and a blessed bit of quiet in the space around her; it's private, and she has one of the porthole windows to see the stars.

It's a little more difficult to make out his expression when his facial structure is so wildly different from human, but his eyes convey a lot and she can see the contemplation there as she begins flipping through pages, scanning the words tidily recorded. She keeps him in her peripheral (not made hard with how small her 'office' was, in truth, and he's nearly within her reach even tucked in the corner, large as he is) as she reads, feeling his eyes on her all the while. It results in the tiniest quirk of her lips, finally turning to look when he opens his muzzle. ]

You don't have anything to thank me for. I couldn't help you, after all— I'm sorry.

[ She turns another fraction, leveling her full attention on him with her hands coming to rest in her lap. Wringing, almost, in a rare show of her regret, brows gathered up apologetically. ]

[True, he's much more shaken than he's going to let on--over the next few minutes into the next few hours, he'll be sitting in quiet contemplation of an entirely new body, too shell-shocked to really do anything productive. His current position in the medbay is more tactical than anything, but he knows he's not going to be able to do much.

Even if she hadn't been able to help, she'd tried, at least, and he can't help but worry about the way she's wringing her hands, an old reflex he hasn't been able to shake.]

You did what you could.

[And now he is a dog.]

[ Things like this take time, after all. And time was something they found on their hands at length, but at the rate things have been thrown at them, it's no wonder it feels like nothing. There is little space between the weird happenings thrust upon them and this is one of the worst, she thinks. If he's content to stay in her company, she's content to give him her patience and provide what she can to keep him comfortable.

He looks alert when he replies, and she hadn't missed the way his eyes dropped to her hands in her lap. Slender fingers flinch before she's forcing herself to stop. ]

It hadn't been enough though; my apology stands. But thank you.

[ It's only a short shift of the stool before she's within reach to rest a hand on his head, smoothing down a bit of fluff stubbornly flipping up near the back, fingers curling about his ear and nails sifting through fur out of newly-formed habit with the pup back in her room before she catches herself and is inwardly mortified, but she won't yank her hand back unless he reacts negatively to the (hopefully soothing) touch. ]

[He’s too stunned to even stop her hand, really, but he tenses underneath her and his lip curls, like he’s trying to bite down a snarl. In truth, he’s frozen, a low rumble in his chest as she moves her fingers from the back of his head around his ear and scratches gently.

76 sits there, frozen, apparently unable to figure out what to do about this gesture. For a moment it feels nice, her nails hitting a spot he didn’t even know he had (maybe it’s a new spot), but he very quickly comes back to himself and swats her hand away. Absolutely mortifying.]

I said don’t.

[ She'd only meant to smooth his hair down like one picks a leaf off someone's shoulder or a string from their shirt, but she went too far without paying attention and he tenses, lip curling but ears splaying the smallest amount beneath the soft drag of nails along the shape of his ear before he's swatting her hand away and she jerks back with it.

It hadn't necessarily hurt, the way his hand had connected with her arm, but it had been enough of a reprimand even before he speaks. Her other hand covers the point of impact out of reflex and her fingers curl about her arm, shoulders drawing up just a fraction. ]

I'm— I apologize, I only meant to straighten your hair. I'm... going to go get some coffee; would you like a water or anything?

[ A B O R T ]

[He reflexively tries to scrub down the cowlick at the mention of his hair, but it seems to be just as stubborn as always. 76 hadn't exactly meant to growl at her, but it's clear that he's either not used to being touched, or simply doesn't like it, withdrawing further into the corner.]

I'm fine.

[Things he's not going to attempt to do in front of Angela: drink out of a glass.]

[ Angela would respect that, in most cases, but the act of touch comes second nature to her and she often employs it as a way to connect with others; she'll scale back at the very least and make an active effort to avoid it. He withdraws back into the corner and her shoulders draw up in much the same guarded stance, afraid she's gone too far and turns to leave. At least give him some space. ]

I'll be right back, then.

[ Enjoy that backwards tongue scoop action 76 because she's bringing you a water anyway and will promptly leave again to let him figure it out. He needs to stay hydrated!! ]

[When she hands him the water, all he can really do is stare at it--both because he said he was fine, and because he has no idea how he's supposed to go about drinking out of a glass like this. He supposes he shouldn't complain (she could have brought him a bowl, and that would have made him really mad), but he's not about to experiment in front of her.

Luckily, she leaves. Convenient. 76 resolves to not drink the water, but left alone to his thoughts, he realizes he's more exhausted than he anticipated. He gives in, sort of.

Should Angela return, she'll find him puzzling over the glass, making attempts to drink from it without 1) doing it like a dog and 2) spilling it all over himself. It is exactly as awkward as it sounds.

Blep.]

[ The sudden shift and growth of body mass means he needs to take in nutrients to make up for the displaced energy, give himself some fuel to keep going. What she ends up returning with this time is a bit of food; a couple of (meat) sandwiches, some fruit, some ration bars that essentially resemble caloriemates and granola bars. If all that failed, peanut butter and crackers. Something had to appeal to him; it was necessary so he didn't exhaust himself any further.

She just sort of. Pauses in the entry, food in her arms, and watches him for a second.

Angela very honestly has no idea how to even recommend an alternative short of: ]

Ah... should I run you an IV...? To help hydrate. I brought you a few things to eat; you'll need to replenish your energy. It'll help you feel a little better.

[ Yeah she's assuming the dog tongue thing isn't ideal. ]

[It takes him a moment to realize that she's there, but as soon as he does, he's setting the water aside to keep glaring at a particularly interesting spot on the floor. His eyes flick upward briefly to take stock of the food she has in her arms, but then it seems he's right back to sulking, perhaps a little embarrassed to be found struggling with something so inane as a glass of water.]

I said I'm fine, Doc.

[76 will keep reiterating that forever, but as soon as she sets the food down and perhaps goes off to take care of other things, he's slinking out of his corner to see what she's brought and maybe

take a caloriemate.]

[ 76 sets the glass aside and she only sighs, quietly exasperated with him. Really, he's just being difficult now. ]

There's no reason to be stubborn or act like this isn't difficult. No one expects you to be able to deal with this on your own, or immediately know how in the first place. I hope for your sake that this change remains brief, but even "brief" doesn't change the fact that you expended a tremendous amount of energy and you still need to take care of yourself.

[ She'll wander off for more texts and allow him the time to snag one of the bars and even eat it, if he does so quickly (heh heh, wolfs it) but soon she's returning with a couple more books and she settles herself in for good. And just. Begins reading. Whatever he does after that is going to be in her presence regardless, but she won't turn around to look. ]

[He only grumbles in response—asking him not to be stubborn is like asking him not to breathe, and he’ll continue to sulk in the corner even as she gets to work. 76 keeps his eyes on her as he scarfs down a protein bar (or two), but when it’s clear that she’s engrossed in her books, he tries to relax a little.

It’s only marginally successful, but more often than not, this is the best he can do. Another thanks, Doc, goes unsaid.]

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( october event log pt. 2 )

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