hohnkai: (Default)
Thán ([personal profile] hohnkai) wrote in [community profile] thisavrou_log2016-12-02 06:54 pm

december event log

Who: Everyone
When: December 1st and on
Where: The Midway Hub.
What: With the Moira destroyed, the crew travel to the center of the Hub.
Warnings: Potential violence. Lots and lots and lots of walking. Please label your content


E
V
E
N
T




L
O
G

the outer gate
"Open up, and let them in."

The Moira is no more.

With the damage done to the ship due to the timeslip, all that remains is a burning wreckage and parts to be taken—if the crew can find anything in the pieces. Recovery and headcounts are the main objective for the first several hours of being planetside, and once things have settled just enough, Captain Ira calls for a meeting and addresses those who are able in person to explain the situation. He draws a rough map of the area and explains where he believes they are - according to the terrain - and where they must go. For anyone who’s listening, he describes things like an “Outer Gate”, an “Inner Gate” and “gate sectors”. Believing this to be the best course of action, all crew are asked to explore and gather what they think they’ll need to make the long journey towards the central point of the Hub. Because the MIDs are no longer working due to the lack of a network, the Captains distribute a newer tech called the TAB. It serves the same functions as the MID but is lighter, slimmer, and has the ability to stick to any surface.

WELCOME TO THE MIDWAY HUB






Now that the smoke from the crash has cleared, and injured crew have been tended to, the Captains get everyone ready for departure by explaining what they know of the Hub. Almost stone-like, the creators built a domed workspace in the largest solid space on the planet they could find. Gates are the only way inside, and anyone who catches a glimpse of the compound will see that parts of the dome are cracked. Yet, everything still appears to be relatively intact. The Midway Hub’s terrain is very rocky and difficult to walk on at times. Below the surface is a honeycomb of intermittently dense and brittle stone that makes travel difficult due to the unpredictable nature of what lies beneath the crew’s feet. Those who can develop the tech from what’s left of the debris might be able to create something to determine which route is the safest. Ships and small crafts can be used to fly, but landing is a problem—rocks jut up in sharp peaks and the clearer spots can't handle their weight. Vegetation is sparse, consisting of twisted dark gray thistles that have sprung up from cracks in the rock and burn when in direct contact with skin, and what could be considered small animals here can be seen scurrying away the closer crew get to them.

WEEK ONE
Crew are asked to hook cryo beds together and to use any appropriate vehicles that can be made or fashioned to fit the terrain to carry injured crew on the journey to the center of the Hub. Supplies are gathered, and the Captains, as well as any crew who want to, give the Moira a proper sendoff, heads bowed as they say goodbye to what’s been their home. Traveling starts out slowly, a line of a hundred-plus crew members making their way slowly forward. Stops are frequent, but camping for rest only occurs at night. Crew are assigned watch shifts, fires are built, injured tended to, and those who are able are asked to explore nearby caves and hunt for food.

Something akin to deer, though striped and only to be found in pairs, can be stumbled across at night. Throngs of dark purple mammels begin to follow the Moirans on their trip as well. They are friendly, curious, and eat the thistle. Meet the intelligent, watchful predators that aren’t easily scared away and follow the crew from a distance as if waiting to pounce. The thistle can be eaten, but only if cooked first, and those who sample the chewy plant raw will experience a burning sensation in their throat that doesn’t go away until the cooked version is consumed. During the first week, water can’t be found.

Anyone who does hunt, gather, or explore should make sure to that their TABS are on and it’s suggested that nobody goes alone.

Nearing the end of the first week, an Ingress can be spotted close by that crew can explore. If anyone dares to go inside, they will find the texture of the ground and surrounding walls to be rather soft. If inspected closely, crew will discover that what they originally thought to be rock is actually a living organism that’s fed off the energy of the Ingress it’s attached itself to. It’s not harmful and squishy to the touch. If pressed hard enough, it secretes a turquoise liquid with the consistency of water that might make a good substitute for that very thing.
WEEK TWO
When crew finally pass through the sector gates, a strange sensation encompasses them, and a depowering of sorts goes into effect. The creators put in security measures meant to put all visitors on equal footing as well as to protect themselves from harm. All crew will essentially have the strength and abilities of the average human. An unforeseen issue, this causes Captain Thán to slip into a coma as he is no longer able to continue to recover at a steady pace, and with the loss of the former Captain’s abilities, crew can no longer be brought back if they die. For the first time, all Moirans are subject to permanent death.

During this week of travel, broken ingress machines and parts will be found scattered among the rocks, and new crew will come through. Unfortunately, these Ingresses aren’t in good shape, and anyone coming through will be in varying states of distress—some physical and some mental. New individuals will either have suffered an age slip, growing older or younger than their original body, some form of body transformation (perhaps that shiny thing they were wearing is now part of them somehow), or an extreme weakness they had never been subjected to before arriving on the Midway Hub. The new people will be offered to join their group, once found, and seasoned crew will be asked to explain to them where they are going and what they know.

The rest of the week will be a mix of greeting the new arrivals and continuing to travel to the center of the Hub. The closer they get, the less frequently they’ll see animals, and more caves will begin to pop up.
WEEK THREE
Entering the third week of travel, settlements and houses begin to crop up and are prime areas for exploration and general supplies. Those who go inside may find items that have been left behind and evidence showing that those of varying species and cultures lived in the homes. Some appeared to have been scientists while others were explorers, but all living quarters are deserted. Crew who are less lucky in their search might come away with no fresh supplies, and others might walk into traps or safeguards left behind by previous tenants; these come in many forms, from mild paralysis to temporary unconsciousness. As there are more residences, there are also more caves. The entrances vary in size, and light sources will be needed to explore. Once inside, crew can find purple underwater streams, which can be consumed, and glowing surfaces. When crew drink the water, it temporarily restores powers, a few minutes tops, and then, extreme lethargy settles in for a couple of hours.

Further into the cave systems, crew will come across these lovely creatures that are attracted to sound and track through scent. They are highly dangerous and attack simply to feed. Killing them, though, is surprisingly simple as they are just as vulnerable and weak as everyone else. They are vicious in demeanor but only as strong as an average human.

The closer to the Inner Gate crew get, the less homes, wildlife, and more caves there will be.
WEEK FOUR
The Captains, aware that the crew is exhausted, stop and make camp for the first few days. Someone mentions that it’s the holidays where they’re from, and the Captains do their best to throw a party. Set up at the base of a cave, tents are built and fires roar. Soft music is played in the form of guitar, thank you Ira, and Cúrre brings out some legumes that taste like cherries when roasted. There isn’t much in the way of decorations, but crew are encouraged to dig through their pac-discs and contribute to the festivities.

After a brief respite, crew learn that the entrances to Gate A and Gate B are inside one of the caves but any signs or markings have long since worn away or been destroyed. Groups are split, TABS are synced, and crew explore carefully until an entrance is found. Crew discover Gate A first, and all crew are contacted to gather there. The Captains will remain at the cave entrance until all crew are accounted for, and then, they’ll enter through the gate together.

( ooc; For questions, go here. Please comment to activity check to receive new ranks (if applicable)! )
handofrapture: ([unmasked] hate you)

we can end it here, if you like!

[personal profile] handofrapture 2017-02-15 02:21 am (UTC)(link)
[The Big Sister bristles at his instructions, though considering the circumstances, it isn’t unreasonable advice. No doubt there’s danger around them even now, and without her plasmids or even her armor, she’s more vulnerable than she’s ever been. At least when she had been a Little Sister, she had produced enough ADAM to regenerate fairly quickly when wounded. Now, she doesn’t even have that advantage.

Still, when the creature motions for her to follow, she lets him walk several steps ahead. She knows better than to let the danger in her surroundings distract from the danger right in front of her.]
takeitslow: ([Side])

[personal profile] takeitslow 2017-02-15 04:07 am (UTC)(link)
I guess these caves aren't that great for you guys. Not a lot of room.

[He stares at the hand, hesitating for a moment before taking it and standing.]

Sure. If you want.
takeitslow: ([Serious])

[personal profile] takeitslow 2017-02-15 05:18 am (UTC)(link)
There had been those few times when her rawness had come out, fleeting moments when everything had been out at the surface. But he's used to seeing her always perfect, always hiding what she's thinking. She's always a motion picture; only showing what she wants him to see. So it still comes as a shock to see her gaze so open and vulnerable.

"Whatever you're afraid you're going to become, you're mom or whatever, you're not. I know you're not. And I know that I don't have to be afraid of you. But if you can't believe that, that you're good, then I'll believe it for you until you do." He stares down at their hands, rubbing a thumb across her knuckles. "That's what I mean."

They're staring down the last days they might have together. It's the home stretch. Maybe that trust is only going to last a few days more before they both forget. But he needs her to know he's holding on to it for her, for as long as they've got. He'll trust her, believe her, for as long as they've been given. If she's unlucky enough to stay, if he's lucky enough to be here with her, that time will stretch out long enough for her to start trusting herself.
takeitslow: ([Explain])

[personal profile] takeitslow 2017-02-15 05:37 am (UTC)(link)
Peter sighs. It's a lot for anyone to come to terms with after first arriving, let alone someone he's perceiving to be a child. He sits up higher, starts to reach out but hesitates before touching Kurt.

"Don't let yourself worry to much about it. You can't spend all your time afraid something is going to happen. Whether it stays the same here or not." He suspects it will. Or will get worse. Maybe without the Ingress on the ship death will find permanency. Maybe when people fall into unconsciousness there will be no way to revive them. But that's not something anyone should dwell on.
knaval: (leaving behind)

[personal profile] knaval 2017-02-15 10:32 am (UTC)(link)
Pssh. It's fine. Get on my hand, I'll carry you!
gentlemenpreferblondes: (That you mus keep Masonic)

[personal profile] gentlemenpreferblondes 2017-02-15 07:29 pm (UTC)(link)
The bottom of her stomach drops and the corners of her lips are drawn back into a half grimace almost as if he had said something disgusting. She can feel her hairs standing up in back of her neck as a single thought washes over her, piercing through her muscles and bones, settling down on something deep. A thought that yells her to let go. She can't have this.

She can't have this if she wants to survive. Because underneath the yelling there's a small part that whispers to her ear with a soft voice that she'll stay or go with him anywhere if he were to ask. Were it in this universe or in his world, everywhere would be alright as long he asked. It's like she's a cat who's claws are threatened to be cut. And she can't have that, she can't allow to be tamed like this.

"I lied," she says as she lets out a deep breath, one that she didn't know she was holding back. Oh. J's lied and hidden so many things from him and everyone else. "I lied. About mom. I-it's not the whole truth." She continues and finally pulls her hand away from his grip. "She killed him only because I made her to. Good people aren't like that--- good kids don't do things like that."

She can't have this trust because she's afraid it'll destroy her and so she needs to break it. And in her experience nothing broke more relationships than the truth.

"You love family, right? You understand that someone who destroys and hurts a family can't be good."
Edited 2017-02-15 19:30 (UTC)
soldiergenes: (i know what i've done)

[personal profile] soldiergenes 2017-02-15 09:03 pm (UTC)(link)
[ If asked, Snake would have been fine with his gravestone going unmarked. He's only one tiny cog in a giant wheel, content to fly under the radar and not receive any acknowledgment for his actions. He's no more important than anyone else in the world, no more deserving of praise and admiration considering some of the things he's done. How anyone could look at a man like him and think "legend" is beyond him.

Still, there are people who would mourn him if he were gone, more than Snake himself realizes.

The exhaustion definitely hit him in one sudden wave, but that's always how it goes. You push and push and push and never stop, and then the moment you decide to sit down for a moment of rest, that's when your body catches up with you and you realize how bone-deep the fatigue really goes. The massage is only adding fuel to the fire—they may be stranded on a planet that was meant to be their only hope and hasn't delivered on that promise, but at least he'll sleep well this first night. (And no, it would be impossible for him to refuse more massages in the coming days. He might even try to return the favor, though he's not sure his hands are meant for it.)

The final layer of wound glue comes and Snake barely reacts to it, any reservations he may have had at the beginning of this procedure all but faded away. That should be the last of it and then he'll be released by the doctor, not that he has any intention of straying far.

It's her voice that keeps him awake as her hands journey down his back, picking apart each problem area methodically. Angela lays out all the tidbits of information he's granted to her over these months, and it's really not much, but with the way she talks about it he almost sounds like a normal person. ]
Alaska, then New York, actually. [ He murmurs the brief correction.

As Angela's hands reach a point where she can barely reach given how they're positioned, Snake does in fact lean forward to give her better access. If they've come this far, there doesn't seem any reason to leave the job half-done. Once he's got his elbows settled at his thighs, Snake considers her implied questions. ]
Not too picky about food. I didn't usually get much choice in what I was served when I was younger. [ Another groan falls from his mouth as Angela's hands find and then smooth out every angry spot in his back. ] The first planet we went to after I got here was called Emiri. They were obsessed with matchmaking people, but the whole thing was really just a cover for experimentation. [ He's not giving her all the finer details, but that's because he's not really awake for it, and thinking too hard on it will get him riled up all over again.

A pause, and he glances over his shoulder at Angela's face, her brow slightly creased in concentration. It's just a name, and she wants to know it. Snake had told Meryl after they'd spent less than twenty-four hours in each other's company. It's not like he'll be giving something away, to just tell her.

His voice is quiet, but clear. ]
It's David. [ Just like that. ]
cadeuces: free to use (with artist credit) unless marked DNS! (Default)

[personal profile] cadeuces 2017-02-17 04:56 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The thing is, Angela's not content with that at all. It's up to those left behind who decide how someone will be remembered; their impressions to ripple outward, stories passed on by friends and loved ones. If she's one of the only ones here who could speak of Snake, it would be with the utmost respect and affection. Try as he might to think otherwise, he's a good man.

He relaxes further and further to her ministrations, her attempts to help him unwind as much as possible after he'd fought so hard for her and others. Ensured everyone he could reach arrived safely to the escape pods, and then to have been further searching the wreckage? He's earned it tenfold. Anything she could possibly do to help him rest, to see him unwind further and further until she's pushed him to his last waking second before carting him off to get some rest, she would press. Snake goes out of his way in her eyes on the regular and he doesn't ask for anything in return; perhaps he's making up for something, but regardless, he's trying to make a difference. That is something to be acknowledged and appreciated. (And she'd be glad to hear it. ♥ Any chance to dote will be a welcome one!)

It won't take but a couple of minutes for this last layer to dry, and she keeps him company until she can allow him to lean forward once more, the swipe of her fingers indicating when the glue has set and her nails are in his hair to retrieve her pin, ruffling it back into place. The information she has isn't a lot, no, but it's a fair start— his profession and when he came from, where he came from, what he was striving for. His friend and the way he spoke of him is good enough insight to their dynamic, as well as the sort of people Snake surrounded himself with. She knows what he does here, and that he's good with dogs, that she's seen him near every day and kept up with him. It's enough. It's plenty.

His correction gets a smile from her, offered almost under his breath and tone relaxed beyond measure, and she murmurs her apology to his hair at much the same volume, amused, before a few more moments pass and he's shifting up and away from her to brace himself forward. A silent request to continue, allowing her to continue working his back. She kneels down behind him to continue, heels of her hands smoothing out from his spine and thumbs following to hone in on those tense spots, gently easing them loose.

Honestly, she's surprised he even speaks up again. She expects him to fall asleep at any moment, but he answers her questions as they come, however ponderously with his exhaustion. ]


You've not developed a taste for anything in particular? We may have to work on that. [ A particularly tenacious application of fingertips-to-loosening knot and he groans for her, a rich little rasp of relief that leaves her pressing her forehead to his spine, indulging in the sound as she smooths over his skin, through the layers of clothing even. Next time she'll have to do this properly again, skin to skin. He's likely going to be tender from this. ] Matchmaking? And did you find true love?

[ All right, she is teasing a little, but she can't resist. When she feels him twist to look back over his shoulder, she'll straighten and lean to the side for easier access, head tipping with that idle little smile of hers. A soft "hmm?" slips out in question, and then just like that.

Angela's smile widens, warms, and she's very clearly happy. ]


David. I'm glad; David suits you.

[ She had to give it a taste, all right? Her voice is pitched his as quiet, near-reverent in how she speaks his name, letting it roll over her tongue. It's only made intimate because he's kept it hidden away, but she's glad she knows, now. ]

I assume you'd prefer I continue to call you Snake, in most situations?

[ Yet she's nearly down to the small of his back, having soothed him from spine to his sides as she worked down; he can almost slip off to sleep. Quieter still than their utterance of his name is the way she nearly breathes a soft thank you— for sharing with her. ]
Edited 2017-02-17 17:05 (UTC)
handofrapture: ([unmasked] well this sucks)

[personal profile] handofrapture 2017-02-17 08:08 pm (UTC)(link)
[The Big Sister cocks her head at the girl’s words, frowning. Does the girl really think any of that is new to the Big Sister? People always want to take Little Sisters away and almost all of them are willing to kill for it. That the Big Sister currently doesn’t have her powers certainly makes things more difficult, but that's no excuse to stop trying.

She speaks again, but now that they’re face-to-face, the girl may actually be able to understand her, if only by way of reading her lips. The word is a single syllable, still as distorted as the rest.]


Who?
takeitslow: ([Disarmed])

[personal profile] takeitslow 2017-02-18 04:37 am (UTC)(link)
Uh.

[Being carried. By a robot. Right. This is his life.]

Sure.

[He doesn't look sure at all. He climbs on tentatively, gnawing at his lip.]
takeitslow: ([Heavy])

[personal profile] takeitslow 2017-02-18 05:54 am (UTC)(link)
His eyebrows furrow, a little frown forming when her reaction is less than anything he expected. Lying? He wouldn't go so far as to think she'd never lie to him; he cares about her, but he's not stupid. But Peter would like to think he's got some grasp on when she means something. He'd like to think she wouldn't lie about something so large and painful.

"You made her." That's incomprehensible. What child wanted a parent dead? What child wanted blood on a mother's hands? "You made her? How exactly did you make someone kill someone else?"

So many ways, that much he knows. But the words aren't computing, not registering as anything he considers J capable of. Killing Aurelia was one thing. This is something else entirely.

"You said you were a kid, how does a kid make anyone do anything? How old were you? What happened?" Peter stares at her hands, his own clenching around air. Why would she give him such a personal detail only to take it back in the next breath? Why would she strive so hard to paint herself a villain after so long? Why was she pushing him away? "What really happened?"
knaval: (melee escape)

[personal profile] knaval 2017-02-18 11:25 am (UTC)(link)
I've done this a bunch of times, don't worry.

[he's very slow to lift peter back up. riptide is tall and he doesn't want vertigo to happen.]
shadowblends: (❧ worried)

[personal profile] shadowblends 2017-02-18 12:59 pm (UTC)(link)
It takes everything in him to not withdraw when Peter reaches for him, broad golden eyes locking onto the outstretched hand. He shouldn't be nervous, but he is - he's not used to people wanting to willingly touch him, especially someone that technically doesn't know him. He gulps down the anxiety and slowly holds out one of his little tri-fingered hands, unsure as to what else he's supposed to do in this situation.

"It is hard to not worry, but I will do my best. We cannot constantly walk on eggshells and hope that nothing bad will happen." Because things like that couldn't be stopped; they could try and try to do everything to prevent terrible things from happening, yet something would come along and destroy that daydream.
a_perfect_end: The players tried for a forward pass. (nod your head)

[personal profile] a_perfect_end 2017-02-18 04:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Finality is a fixed endpoint to a mutable state. It's arguably smaller than promise and certainly shorter than forever. Final is just a term, is concrete shoes for an abstraction--small, choking certainties to describe and quantify the unimaginable.

He can do anything he can quantify. That is the oldest necessity.

His stripes ache, just at the fingertips, with how easy it would be. To act, to react, to clean the slate. A standard outcome of standard behavior: a blast of static to smother confusion, precise alignments dulled with pure noise, and under it practiced edits prickling numb in sharp, surgical gold.

But it would be--oh, it would be what they've always had, and that can't persist here. He just finished cataloging the proof.

The gap between wanting and getting is the same space described by the shape of an old friend.

Rinzler cycles harshly, air in hard double gouts behind ragged grinding intervals. A little shake of the head, tiny finite motion that would be a shiver, might be a shudder--Clu's seen that once, twice, endlessly in the arena, the broken-off ends of wanting to laugh.

Hysteria?

Improbable. He hadn't nudged that hard.

Rinzler trembles, live-wire, a burst of allegiances ghosting through his skin--and yes, he can speak and he uses that feature out loud, but never voluntarily, never with Clu--

Data did not lie: Clu himself had never asked for it. It was therefore categorically impossible for Rinzler to idiom: hand it over.

Except, apparently, at great cost.

And for an instant, for sixteenths of a second less than would stop a human heart, that word means not now, Clu; means can we deal with this later; means gotta go and murderous, mutinous, he reaches up--

Stops cold.

The truth throbs red in the air between them and he can't move.

He can't move. The action is unavailable. This is his default now, overextended, ridiculous, and he can't move.

...Hard stall. Some value of actual fault, internal systems cheerfully cataloguing the largest error he's thrown in a megacycle.

"I." Waste of air, up and down: hollow noises where exultant laughter should go. "I know, I understand that. That's, yes, the point I was making."

This is absurd. Stick to the facts.

"You're not going anywhere, and you're never going back to factory settings."

So there.
Edited (this sure is a reason.) 2017-02-18 16:24 (UTC)
gentlemenpreferblondes: (And I mean to care for no one)

cw: talk about past abuse

[personal profile] gentlemenpreferblondes 2017-02-18 10:34 pm (UTC)(link)
His certainty and decisive demeanor are both gone and are replaced by something clumsy and lost. Seeing him react like this, stumbling and unsure where to grab or go from here, is like a bitter, nearly sour tasting, victory and satisfaction. Something she really wished she wouldn't have to taste again.

She opens her mouth but closes it soon after. The words are gathering on top of her tongue, rolling back and forth. It's been so long since the last time this had been brought up, when she had revealed the ugly truth. But this time there wasn't comforting taste of chocolate lingering in the back of her throat, not sound of distant engines whirring in the background nor the safe presence she used to rely on all those months ago. But back then the words she had said were meant to connect, not to disconnect.

"Same what always happens with me," she says, her voice reaching for something cold and cruel. "I let-- I betrayed her. I did something that I shouldn't have, even though I knew it'd break her heart." She takes a brief pause to look at his face, reading his expression as she lays the vague information in front of him. And she also knows that she needs to stop dancing around it but for some reason it's more difficult than before. She can still hear Sans' sad yet comforting words: not your fault.

"I did it with dad. He wanted to and I thought why not. Mom saw it and went cuckoo on the head. That's what really happened."
Edited (very weird grammar) 2017-02-19 01:30 (UTC)
notglitching: (red - above)

[personal profile] notglitching 2017-02-18 10:46 pm (UTC)(link)
The reach is tangible. Clu's intent hovers, a storm of rage and raw potential, and Rinzler freezes—flinches, processing scattering to so much hash. He's pushed too far, claimed too much, and if he doesn't know which misstep drew his admin's wrath, he knows (knows knows) what's coming next. A fraction of an instant's bitter fury, a stuttered catch of paralyzed despair, and Clu—

Clu stops.

Clu. Stops.

Clu stops, and Rinzler is still running. Clu stops, and air cycles, an odd, incomprehensible sound falling from his programmer's mouth amidst the tangled segments of a confirmation string. It's an error (but Clu doesn't make errors). A lie? Placation? More likely (certain), but Clu stops, and speaks, and something raw and jagged nestles in the empty ache of expectation.

Rinzler can't turn it off. He can't stop looping, can't stop cycling the phrase. Never, never, never (and how long is that really?). He should bow, he should kneel, he should surrender his disk in sheer, unfiltered gratitude. But Clu didn't ask for it, and he's—they're not going back. He isn't.

(Please.)

Stillness draws out, stretched and strained, before the inactive flicker of the text display draws his attention. Rinzler twitches—scrambles to type out a line, and stalls again as cognition catches up with what. It's stupid. Reckless, glitched, and if Clu needed more excuse to take back each and every offer, Rinzler knows this would serve. He has never, ever had a right to demand anything from his programmer.

But Clu doesn't need an excuse. The word rezzes up, a small and fragile shield in front of that arrested reach.

Promise.
squadgoals: (1 LIKE = 1 REAPER DEFEATED!!!!!)

FEEL FREE TO DROP!!!

[personal profile] squadgoals 2017-02-19 10:09 am (UTC)(link)
[J was a lot of things. Stylish, fashion-forward, skilled at mixing drinks.

Silent was not one of them.

At the first sound of noise in the flat, she'd very quietly put down what she was doing, and made her way towards it, stealth-minded. Locating the source itself was no problem — it was figuring out what to do once she discovered it.

They hadn't talked since the Monolith — since J had shot her. How was she going to play this? Something was bugging her about the whole situation. What should she say? Initiate a conversation with a friendly Hey J, long time no see, you look better than last time I saw you! Which was when you were dead!

But suddenly, it didn't matter — what had been bugging her hadn't been the estranged nature of their relationship, but the trap wire J's fingers were about to--

The second J triggers the trap, time seems to slow, propelling Shepard into action. She moves like a blur, sprinting forward and grabbing J bodily, using her own body as a shield, and throwing them both forward in a roll.

Behind them, half the ceiling caves in on the spot J had previously been standing on.

Covered with dust and bits of pseudo-plaster from the collapsed structure, Shepard sits up, casting her eyes over J.]


You OK?

[There's a pause, and by way of explanation, she thumbs back at the closet J had been exploring.]

Close one with the trap, there.
squadgoals: (did I feed those stupid fish)

FEEL FREE TO DROP!!!

[personal profile] squadgoals 2017-02-19 10:40 am (UTC)(link)
[The paralysis doesn't seem to transfer, at least — 76 is left with nothing more than a tingle at the touch.

Shepard, on the other hand, falls as gently as a rock would, hitting the ground still stuck in her paralysed crouch.

As soon as she's away from touching the trap, however, it's clear the paralysis is starting to melt away — chief among these signs is Shepard gasping for breath, breathing hindered for just a few seconds short of being dangerous. When she's able to again, she rasps out:]


Well, that was stupid.

[And then:]

Thank you.
squadgoals: (so now I have no pringles left)

[personal profile] squadgoals 2017-02-19 10:47 am (UTC)(link)
Agreed.

[Not much else to cover, there. Picking up her crowbar, she moves on to the next crate, wedging it in between the lid and the box proper. She's about to start levering it open, when she glances back at Chara appraisingly.]

Want to give it a try?

[Shepard gestures to the levering setup, ready to roll with the weight of a skillfully-applied child.]
squadgoals: (can I just buy a can of tupari now or)

S O R R Y IN ADVANCE THEN!!!!!

[personal profile] squadgoals 2017-02-19 11:12 am (UTC)(link)
[Well, well.]

And yourself, Varric. You look like a man who hasn't had a drink in days — or at least a couple of hours.
squadgoals: (that makes a stupid kind of sense)

:TOOT:

[personal profile] squadgoals 2017-02-19 11:30 am (UTC)(link)
Fair enough — and knowing you, you'll pick up the rest along the way.

[By way of explanation, she holds out a slim tube of omni-gel, a count of ten units.]

Any kind of nuts and bolts repair will give you a leg up over me on the more technical side of things, but her self-repair systems are all powered by this: omni-gel. Melt it down, run it through the unit using the correct ports, and it starts the patching procedures. All major parts have their own operational flash-forging systems, it just takes a bit for them to identify what's wrong. And in this case, it's a lot, so some of them aren't working.

[There's a pause, and she drums her fingers on the side of the tank.]

Problem is, I think some of the flash-forgers are damaged, too. There's a way to fix them, but I've got to know exactly which ones it is, first — and that means working through them one by one.
inconsequence: (❤ the storm that wipes out)

[personal profile] inconsequence 2017-02-19 06:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[She offers to


Interesting. That prompts a flash of a smile, abrupt and overly bright, plainly with the expectation that this will backfire accordingly, as it typically does.]


I thought it was dangerous to give children such things.

[Children cannot be trusted to do dangerous work, can they? Of course not. That would be absurd.]
takeitslow: ([Tilt])

[personal profile] takeitslow 2017-02-20 04:31 am (UTC)(link)
[His powers normally keep him from any problems of displacement, so the odd churn to his stomach is strange, to say the least.]

Yeah, yeah. Totally trust you.

[At least the view is interesting. Well, as interesting as a cave can get.]

Everyone must feel like ants to you.
takeitslow: ([Relaxed])

[personal profile] takeitslow 2017-02-20 05:01 am (UTC)(link)
Peter can't help but try to comfort children. It's simply a part of him at this point. Look after the kids, Peter. It's the one thing that can't be messed up.

"That's the ticket. Just, try not to think about it. After a while it'll be second nature." Peter grimaces, shrugs. "Look, I'm painting a grim picture. It's not always so bad. Or at least the ship wasn't always so bad."
squadgoals: (more like mass ERECT am I RIGHT)

[personal profile] squadgoals 2017-02-20 05:41 am (UTC)(link)
Then I'll take full responsibility if you get hit in the face with a piece of box. [Shepard shrugs, expression thoughtful.] Or drop the crowbar on your foot.

But if you want my opinion, you're already in a pretty dangerous environment. In the long run, it's more worthwhile to help people adapt — no matter what age they are. Knowledge will always be a better tool than ignorance.