( 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

[dum_spiro]

Whatever he's trying to pantomime toward the area where there was recently a large fire, combined with his confirmation that no one around has been all that shocked to see a werewolf, or whatever, around here gives Carol a hunch that whatever happened to Daryl is either normal around here, or at least not unprecedented. Whatever their festival was about, she's picking up on the fact that the planets they visit like to include the Moira crew in their traditions, like it or not.

Now, she just has to figure out if it's reversible, or will last a whole damn year. But she's trying hard not to be too glass-half-empty just yet.

"You were here during whatever ceremony or whatever was happening, right?" She waits a second for confirmation before continuing. "Maybe we can ask around. If it was such a big event, someone must know whether these things -- must know the deal with all this." Of course he'll notice her verbal slip, but nothing to be done now. He has to know she's afraid of him being stuck like this, because he probably is too, but they've been through this before.

[worn_wings]

It's hard to be too afraid at the moment-- the prospect of not getting back to himself is damned unpleasant, but he's still coming to terms with the situation, wrestling with his awareness of what he is and what he ought to be. Enough, for now, to deal with trying to communicate his thoughts.

Putting these few pieces together helps, too-- for the first time he wonders if anyone else has been so afflicted. Unfortunately, licking aside, that's too complicated to ask her easily. Still, he makes the attempt, ears folding back with a low whine as he tries to figure out some way to indicate his meaning. After a moment he settles on reaching to tap her MID, making an unmistakably inquisitive though wordless sound.

[dum_spiro]

When he points to the MID, she feels like a perfect idiot. One of those things she should have thought of, if she could get outside her own head enough to actually trust what the ship's commanders have offered. She uses the MID as little as possible. It's been rough since arriving, and rougher since that year spent in a mindless euphoric haze; if that's what trust earns her, she'd rather not.

(She also notices those ears again, and they're distractingly cute. She's not going to say that on pain of death.)

"You think this thing will help?" Lifting her wrist and glancing at it, she waits to see if it translates anything or whether Daryl plans on trying to type or something. "Never thought I'd miss those brain-to-brain conversations," she adds for good measure.

[worn_wings]

The idea of typing hasn't occurred to him, though obviously it should have. Stupid. Whether he can manage it with his hands as they are... Well, it's not quite what he had in mind, anyway, but it's something to look into when he's got a minute. For now, it seems impossible to take in. He feels worlds better, having a familiar presence by his side, but the open air unnerves him, the sights and sounds and scents of the city all a blur of potential threats.

Looking off into the distance at nothing in particular, he mutters to himself-- a series of low growls and whines that, if the MID catches it to translate, will end up being something about Timmy being stuck in a well.

He misses the bracelets, too.

[dum_spiro]

Imagine her surprise when the MID actually works on, what seems to her, to be a chorus of raw, wordless emotion. Not only that, but he's being a smartass, and damn if that doesn't make her feel a little better.

"You realize I'm going to call you Lassie once or twice, once this is over," Carol says as she meets his eyes over her raised wrist, playful but with genuine relief. Whether she's serious about that remains to be decided; depends entirely on how traumatic this is for him once things are fixed. (Because, they're going to be fixed.)

"Good call. So, once more for the idiot who forgot she's carrying a translating device." Tell her everything, she means. What happened, how he is, what he thinks they should do.

[worn_wings]

The device doesn't do anything to translate the mock-irritated grunt at her fond thread-- he can't blame her when he's the one cracking the joke to begin with, after all. With a long huff of breath, he shakes his head a bit, trying to get things straight.

And then he does explain-- as much as he can. The festival, the blessing, the way it had left him off-balance; his hair-trigger temper, the way he'd fled the crowds and lost track of everything after becoming like this. It feels like it takes forever, even leaving out a fair amount. She doesn't need the gory details, he doesn't want to talk about how viciously he'd wanted a fight in the aftermath. Still, the important lines are drawn-- most of all, his certainty that whatever this is, it was the festival that started it.

The MID doesn't carry over all his syntax, but the cadence of his voice is familiar, in spite of the canine sounds.

[dum_spiro]

At first, she has to admit that the utterly inhuman sounds disturb her more now that he's stringing them together. However, the more she hears, and reads the words on her screen, the more the voice seems right. The rhythm, the tone, the manner. He's still in there, and every little affirmation gives her more hope. (Not too much, of course, because they both know how very wrong the wrong kind of hope can go.)

When he's done, she nods. "Someone around here knows what happened and what to do about it, and I doubt you're the only one it happened to." The only one she cares about, at the moment, but after they fix him she's happy to share the secret with anyone else who needs it. "I should ask around. But first... did you bring weapons out with you? Supplies? Do we need to look for them?" She won't have his crossbow of throwing knives gone, when he gets back to himself.

[worn_wings]

It takes him a moment to sort through his memories, and then he swings his head from side to side, pulling away a little from her and pawing at the remnants of his uniform. Somehow or other he's still wearing his belt and the knife attached to it, tangled up in the shredded fabric.

Just that. He nods, tapping the hilt, not bothering to say it aloud. Even if she can read a translation, he'd rather get by without talking when he can... Which is probably a lot of the time, they've got a lot of practice.

Fixing her with a serious look, he tilts his head to the side. So, now what?

[dum_spiro]

"All right," she says, nodding, without peeking at the translator. They often don't need words to communicate, and the more they're together she more she can grasp his mannerisms in that strange body. This also tells her that he left the ship in sort of a haste, his temper overruling all sense, because otherwise he would have been better armed.

"So," she continues, knowing he can tell she's hesitating, "I can go knock on some doors now, or if you'd rather get away from people first, we can go somewhere a little less crowded where you can wait."

Yeah, she's a little nervous about him waiting around here, especially if she's going to get into any less than friendly discussions and have some doors slammed in her face, knowing exactly how well that would go over. She's going to be asking people about what amounts to their religion, it's bound to ruffle some feathers; she's fine accepting whatever gets thrown at her, she just doesn't want Daryl and his werewolf-y temper doing anything he'd later regret.

[worn_wings]

It's a question that needs some thought. Lord knows he doesn't much like the crowds, but the prospect of finding some secluded spot to wait isn't very appealing when he'd be waiting alone. Since he fled the ship-- it's been, what, a day? Two? He's not sure-- that's been the problem.

Besides, on the off chance something goes wrong-- well, he might be relatively unarmed in terms of weapons, but suddenly that doesn't seem to matter much at all. He bends to nudge her shoulder. Go on. He's ready to follow.