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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)! )
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hohnkai) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-12-02 06:54 pm
i want smore of that
They really have been utterly lost without anyone's guidance.
"You, on the other hand?" 20 HP gives you hardly any buffer. Surely you would know by now. Asgore taught them that lesson quite well. Again. And again. And again.
melty gooey goodness
3/20 HP
Oh.
They reach for a pocket, pause. Nothing to heal, no SAVE to restore themself with. Let their empty hand drop to their side.
"...do we go back?"
They can be careful. Good at dodging.
full of dt =)
If they had not intervened, if they had not thrown themself in the way of something that obviously would have slaughtered them without a second thought, then perhaps they would not have been so badly burned for their trouble.
They make a fleeting gesture at their TAB.
"Call for help. Ask someone to take you back."
y...yummo...
It comes out louder and sharper than they mean to say it, and Frisk flinches from the sound of their own voice before shrinking in. Their hands open and close, and finally they take the disk back.
"I can't...I'm okay. I'll be okay."
Everyone's better off without them there. Haven't they proven that enough times? Play with people's lives, kill and LOAD just to see if they remember, toy with outcomes out of sick curiosity. If they're really friends...
gonna determine those phase states of matter
Their voice rebounds across the rocks and it nearly engenders a sharp, startled flinch. Chara's shock communicates itself in tiny ways; the flaring of nostrils, the tightening of their fists, almost imperceptible. They raise their voice, they shout, and their hackles stiffen despite their best efforts.
"You're not okay," they say, colder than is perhaps intentional. "You're barely on your feet. If you will not call for help, I will have to call someone for you."
Call...Toriel, perhaps. Yes, she cares for Frisk well enough. She had taken them in so naturally, so eager to induct them into her life. They call her "mother" easily, the word slipping off their tongue with an effortlessness they cannot help but envy.
That sort of thing always did come easily to Frisk.
get that red all up in this physical existence
"No--! Pl...please..." It's getting hard to speak, and they sign one-handed. Can't remember if Chara picked any of it up, but they can't speak can't move can't can't can't--
I'm not safe to them.
what's the deal with physical existence
The awful impulse shivers across their fingertips, the sickening whip-crack of knuckles against bare skin in a snap of cold words, furious words. Speak up, child. No one can understand you if you mumble, child, so you'd best get over yourself and look at me when I'm talking to you. Straighten up, speak clearly, you know this shouldn't be hard, child, so do as you're told and you don't have to worry, child.
...what? That didn't happen?
How pitiful.
They flex their fingers, into a fist and out again, extricating themself from Frisk's grasp once more. Slow and careful.
"Slow down," they say, the words a careful hiss. "Breathe, Frisk. You're hurt. Bleeding. You need someone who can help you, and we both know I am poorly equipped for first aid."
They are most efficient at taking things apart, after all, not putting them together.
strings and probability my dude
But there are words. Words like a hissing tea kettle, low and meant only for them and Frisk swallows hard before they can try to obey. In and out, in and out, but their throat won't listen. All they can do is shake their head and hiccup pathetically.
Can't go back. Can't risk it, can't do it. They're fine on their own.
cw self-harm and panic mentions
They know what panic looks like. They might not have had a word for it, naturally, because who would bother and who would care? Stop being so dramatic, Chara. Get up. Just having another one of your freak-outs, one of your stupid fits. Just having a tantrum, starving for everyone's valuable time and attention like a squalling infant.
It's easier when it's their own life, their own lungs. They can twist themself into shape, and they know how to recognize the needles behind their eyelids, the prickling heat in their fingertips. One-two, that's the count of a heartbeat, and one-two, that's the count of knuckles against the headboard. Easy. Even. Rinse the blood away after, and no one has to know.
They kneel until they're at eye-level, across from them, locking their gaze with Frisk's, vibrant and unblinking.
"Breathe. Slowly."
They don't smile. Not this time. Keep their eyes trained on Frisk, and keep their words quiet.
"Think of ice," they say. And it's - it's utterly stupid, isn't it? It's a stupid thing they invented, a stupid thing to say when their body's acting stupid like this, but they can't think of anything else to say and they've already done and settled themself down like this, all ready to make things better even if, hah, they're the person that breaks them irreparably, and anyone who says otherwise can just look at their track record.
But still. They've broken another person in their wake because they couldn't be kind enough, unsurprisingly, and the least they can do is - mitigate the damage. If they can.
"Think of frozen waterfalls," Chara continues. "Have you ever seen one?"
cw panic and dissociation
Sniffles and heaving breaths start and stutter, swift and shallow but then slower, slower. Both hands close over their disk and they pretend it's an icicle, think about the sharp pain the cold brings. A prickle and tingle that lingers even after you let go. Focus, focus. Tie yourself down, stop floating away.
They sniffle, shake their head and take another deep breath. The only waterfalls they've seen were flowing, over rocks or filled with garbage. They can't imagine what one must look like turned to ice. Is it all in chunks, like out of a freezer? Or is it like a lake, still on the outside but roaring past underneath?
no subject
Make it work for you. It will burn and bleed and sting either way. At least this way, this way, you use it to your advantage.
"It's like the water froze in mid-air," Chara says softly. "There are bubbles frozen in the water, like soda."
You remember soda, don't you, Frisk? Sickly yellow liquid. If only they could remember which one of them disliked it.
no subject
Their eyes drop to Chara's hand, and again there is a few seconds before they act. Slow, careful, trying their hardest to not disturb the moment or break whatever spell holds this offer in place, they reach out and lay their hand lightly, so lightly into Chara's palm. Want to grab and cling and hold but they won't. Can't be selfish, can't be greedy. Don't take more than you're given, remember your place. If you cling too tightly it just hurts worse when it's ripped away again.
Chara is warm. They're here. ...they're here.
"...I'm...sorry."
no subject
They wrestle it down. They've enough LOVE in their heart to muzzle it into silence for now.
"You think some mindless, faceless thing is worth your life?" They jerk their head in the direction of the carcass as it sprawls there, ungainly, still and always not dissolving away into dust. A mess, a real mess. Suitable, for them. Fitting. "If I were not here, what do you think would have happened? Would have tried and date it into submission, perhaps?"
no subject
"I..."
They've been taught the rule of this place plenty of times on this journey. Ceta, D.E.L., the Grid, the Cadeuceans...kill or be killed. Surrounded by Floweys, and nothing they do ever stops any of it.
They're not enough. They'll never be enough.
"Could've...run. Gotten away."
no subject
And here they are, making Frisk feel bad for it. Sickening. What a repulsive creature.
"I told you to run, and you didn't."
But is that truly so surprising? Frisk made their opinions quite obvious, and have continued to do so with absolute clarity. So desperate to hold onto something, so afraid of its loss, that they'd jeopardize their own life simply to make sure it would remain.
no subject
"Not without you."
They can't leave them behind. Can't let go, can't stand the thought that they'll wake up again to find an empty bed across from them, a name stricken out in red, the presence they've ached for vanished like so much mist. Can't let them fall down into that dark path again, have to keep them safe, keep them right, can't lose you again.
Selfish.
"I...I wanted t'...t' keep you safe." Protect them, SAVE them from the world, take the blows for them because Chara has already suffered so much, haven't they? Let them rest, let them be happy, just...let them do something that has a chance to last. "But I just got you hurt again."
no subject
"A FIGHT is an exchange of blows," says Chara, "not a deliverance. Both parties will always walk away hurt, if they walk away at all." And the exceptions to this are few and far between. If you are a dirty cheat, for example. If you are never given the opportunity to strike at all.
"And how would you anticipate keeping me safe should that thing have struck a bit harder?" For a moment Chara's eyes blaze coldly, unsmiling. "From beyond the grave, perhaps? An exchange of roles for the pair of us?"
Now is not the time for scathing commentary. They should understand this. They are far from the comfort Frisk needs, but they refuse to leave, they refuse to listen. And so, this is what they get.
It will have to suffice.
"Protecting me at the expense of yourself is an unequal trade." The ratio of people who would miss Chara compared to those who would miss Frisk...it is incomparable, of course. It always is.
no subject
And yet...
"No, it's not."
Frisk shakes their head, swallows hard and ducks their head once more. Since when did their life hold any value? Since when would anyone be better off if Frisk were alive?
"You're...I can't lose you again. I can't."
It's the only thing they're good for. Take a few hits, go back, figure out a new strategy, try again. Be the crutch someone needs to find their way out of danger, carry someone when they can't move for themself. It's okay, because they always...
...get back up again.
no subject
But Chara - Chara is easy. They are watercolor, and they wash off. They've touched no one's life so deeply that they cannot be cast aside, easily, and leave naught but a darkened smear where they once were.
They are staring at the single exception. But Frisk is always the exception. They will claim that they are until the point that they'll know, as they must eventually learn, that Chara is just as replaceable as any best friend. As any name that gets carved away so another may be inputted in its place.
Easy to change, isn't it?
"Do not presume to weigh your life against mine." There is a warning, soft and edged, buried beneath the words. "You are the one who has friends here. You are the one who would be missed."
no subject
Don't kill, and don't be killed. Funny how hard that promise is to uphold.
"You would be missed," they murmur, but the conviction isn't there. Asriel would miss them, yes, and Toriel, if she knew. Peter as well, but...it's distant relations, ones Chara would never acknowledge. No, they would see all the pain in the hearts of those Frisk has fooled, and blame themself for it. Take the sin upon themself, as if they had wished for it in the first place.
Every way they turn, it's only more pain. When did it become this way?
Frisk sniffles, swallows hard, and looks up again, forcing themself to meet Chara's eyes. "I...I'll go back. 'M sorry."
no subject
If Frisk is truly so desperate to cling to them throughout everything, it is because they lack any better alternative. Let us not fool ourselves.
But then, gratingly, cunningly, glaringly, the fallen child is backed once more into a corner of their own making. Stressing the importance of Frisk's safety, insisting they return, and then acknowledging that, alone, the human cannot possibly hope to make it very far at all.
They could tear themself out of the four-walled argument they themself created, but that option is - less appealing than the obvious solution.
They concede their loss, holding out a hand as they shift on their haunches in preparation to rise.
"Come on. Obviously I can't expect you to make it very far on your own."
no subject
"Thank you."
Their hand curls around Chara's, and...ha ha. That's a bit worn out these days, isn't it?
no subject
So it is of little consequence. They will lead them out of the dark.
They are entirely the wrong person to do so, but Frisk always puts their faith into those that have continually, that always have and always will, lead them astray.