( september intro log )

[hownkai]

Who: Everyone
When: September 1st and on
Where: The ship and on planet
What: Getting acclimated to ship life and exploring
Warnings: Please label any warnings you have on your threads

SHIP LIFE

"It is not the ship so much as skillful sailing that assures a prosperous voyage."

The Ingress has pulled you in. Your body experiences several sensations at once: being pushed forward as if a hand is resting on your back, momentary and startling blindness, a gentle ringing in your head. You have difficulty discerning whether it is hot or cold, but where you have been prodded is noticeably warmer than the rest of you. Some may suffer from dizziness while others are perfectly fine. Once equilibrium has been reestablished, you will notice you are standing on a long platform and that the room is filled with a soft cerulean light. It's slightly humid and dark despite the glow around you, and various machines line the walls on either side, though they are not accessible from where you stand. Shortly after, you are led out and toward the medbay.

Inside this room, you are given a physical scan and sign a contract that states you are now part of the crew of the Moira with a specific job. This process consists of a complete work-up of medical history and current health, and afterwards, you are given your MID, a device that is integrated into your hand with only the slightest pinch. From there, you are guided out of the medbay and into the main hall with specific instructions not to leave.

☄MAIN HALL ( 09.01 to 09.03 )

After everyone is gathered together, you learn that these are your accommodations for the night. The captains explain that the Moira is not readily suited for such a large influx of people, and that this is only temporary. Placed around the room are a variety of blankets, sheets, and mats in lieu of beds, and crates of MREs have been provided along with H₂O hydration kits. Some time in the “morning hours”, all MIDs will receive a message designating rooming assignments and areas of the ship that are open to exploration.

GALLEY ● MESS HALL ● REC AREA

All remaining areas accessible to crew members are open later in the “evening hours”. Crew are also informed that the Moira is approximately two days from their current destination.

DESCENSION

"A force of nature unto itself."

From a distance, the planet’s reddish atmosphere slowly becomes more transparent the closer the Moira ventures, and mountain ranges, volcanic fields, valleys, ice caps, canyons, deserts, and impact craters are visible in stark detail. The remnants of a lone moon hangs in its outer orbit and impedes the ship’s ability to dock close to the planet’s surface. As the crew prepares to disembark, there are noticeable changes in gravity as well as some disturbances in energy output.

☄EXPLORATORY EXCURSION I ( 09.04 to 09.11 )

Due to unstable atmospheric conditions, crew members must utilize the transporters located in the Cargo Bay to descend to the surface. Each craft holds upwards of six passengers and is piloted remotely via Navigation. Once it lands, orders will be sent to MIDs detailing mission directives. These include: scouting surrounding areas for potential threats, determining if the mile-long road from the transporter to the nearest inhabited area is free of hazards, and assessing local friendliness.

Planetary Environment Details
● The air is breathable. However, there is a pleasant sweetness to it that generates an overall invigoration.
● Vegetation is sparse due to dry and windy weather patterns. It’s dusty, and the ground itself is rather gritty in texture.
● The initial temperature feels hot and causes the skin to prickle with sweat. Yet, the longer one is exposed to the elements, the less you are inclined to notice.
● There is an overall lack of civilization, and what populace there is remains centralized in one area. Crew members may stumble across the occasional explorer returning to their own ship; they are friendly and welcoming but also eager to leave.
● The sun does not seem to set. Even in the “later” hours of the day, it is still as bright as it had been at “noon”.

☄EXPLORATORY EXCURSION II ( 09.12 to 09.17 )

A thriving marketplace that was found during the initial search has been deemed an appropriate place for trade and much needed supplies. Crew members are encouraged to engage in local customs while continuing to maintain their current duties aboard the Moira, and they must assist in the delivery of goods to the transporter. They are more than welcome to explore this new area.

The Marketplace
● There is no monetary system in place; if there is an item you want, trade for it. (Locals will accept anything as payment.)
● Booths, shops, and tents line both sides of the pathways weaving throughout the area. Signs with written language are not recognizable; however, MIDs will translate any spoken languages so they are understood. Vendors are an eclectic mix of species, and not all of them are humanoid in form as they are from varying parts of the universe.
● The smells of foreign foods are everywhere. Yet, that familiar sweetness seems to occasionally overpower it. It is also loud as others bustle about their business.
● Natives are not unkind, but they are not as overly welcoming as strangers in the market are. They are quiet, reserved, and helpful to some extent. They are easily recognizable by the plain masks and hoods worn over their faces.
●Seedy areas are found in the depths of the market. Drug and sex trades are not uncommon but not openly displayed.

( OOC: For any and all questions, go here. Check THIS to see your tag. They have already been added to the comms, but you'll have to tag them onto a post before they show up in the list. )

Comments

Agent Texas

[a_shadow]

09.01 | Med bay

[a_shadow]

She keeps her head down and her thoughts to herself, but not until after an initial outburst— "Where is he? What's going on?" But now that she's found that being belligerent will get her no answers, she's quietly glowering as they take her vitals and take her 'history'. Those who indeed are in earshot may learn the interesting fact about her that there is no history to share. New body; where did it come from? Agent Texas certainly doesn't know.

Leland "Apollo" Adama

[thegoodlighter]

09.01 | Rec Area

[thegoodlighter]

He moved through his commands listlessly, trying to absorb and retain the influx of orders and new information while processing it with the delayed distance one might a dream. In truth, he'd had dreams more lucid than the reality he was currently experiencing. Even though he was more used to warping and awkward, physically strenuous space travel, nothing could have mentally and emotionally prepared him to enter an entirely new reality. The only reason he was sure it was real at all was due to the unsettling wobbling in his stomach.

He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten, and whenever that had been, it was certainly some rationed distribution high in carbs for quick energy and utterly lacking in what one needed for a balanced diet, or extended cognitive functioning. His eyes blurred as he observed the crowded sleep arrangements around him in the hall.

He was told not to leave, and he could sense the ominous sincerity behind the order, even if it had been worded as a polite request. It was just as well. It wasn't as if he knew where to go, or even if he did, that home was any safer. Now was not the time for Lee to ponder how he felt about his new setting - he could hardly even grasp what it was. Maybe it was easier for others, but for him, the Moira was just close enough to what was comfortable and familiar that it was easy, pacing the halls of the ship, to forget he had appeared somewhere alien and unknown.

Whenever Lee couldn't process his thoughts, he gave in to pure, simple, physical sensation. So in this case, he took advantage of the opening in the Rec Area. There wasn't crowds in here, and he almost wondered if he was really supposed to be allowed in. But the area was accessible, and he wasn't actively disobeying what he was told. He wrapped his thermal shirt around his neck in place of a towel, and let himself focus on sweat and repetitive motion, starting with the cycles, and twenty minutes later, adjusting to the treadmill.

Billy Kaplan

[noassgardian]

09.01 | Main Hall

[noassgardian]

Billy isn't sure he can really believe his eyes or not. He's been dragged off to unknown places back where he'd come from. He'd been dragged to new dimensions and it usually ended in some bizarre torture that would leave him wishing for death or anything else... and some of the equipment in the medbay leaves him shuddering with the ideas of what if..., even if it doesn't look overly malicious.

Still, what he's greeted with instead is a physical and a contract, an MID implanted in his hand... None of it is quite like anything he's experienced before. It doesn't quite stop him from wanting to pick at the device, just in case there's something more sinister behind it, but... well.

Eventually, he's led to the main hall and he sees some people he's never seen before... that's about when, for a moment, Billy starts to think this might be for real. He might have actually gotten out of what had essentially been hell. He's not sure whether to laugh or cry or panic because he'd had friends back there, and maybe something a little more with someone... someone he hasn't spotted yet. Had Loki even followed along? Or was he alone here?

He's distracted, head whirring with new information and worries, antsy at the thought of sleeping out in the open with so many people he's not familiar with. He's used to being able to hide off, find some sort of comfort in being closed off and away from the outside world if he chooses. He doesn't notice just how lost in his own head he's gotten until he's walked right into someone. "Oh--"

Wow, way to leave an impression, Kaplan..

"Sorry! Are you okay?"

Tron

[fight4theusers]

09.01 Main Hall

[fight4theusers]

Tron had moved into the main hall as instructed, his processes still slightly scrambled as he tried to assimilate all the information being thrown at him. From what he could tell, he was not derezzed, he was now in the User world, but not anything like what Flynn had ever described. This... transport seemed to be carrying more than just Users--humans, he supposed he should say, but he'd never even heard of some of the creatures he was seeing here. Even the strange, warped design of the data-pushers in the old ENCOM system had nothing on some of the things he could see here.

Warily, Tron took up a spot near the wall, standing in a slightly guarded posture. He felt dangerously exposed, wearing only the unfamiliar, loose-fitting clothing given to him upon arrival. The circuits on his skin were not visible, covered by the clothes, but every movement felt strange, with the cloth brushing and rubbing against the glowing lines rather than sealed tight by his usual gridsuit. It had taken him some time to figure out the clasps and fastenings on the User clothing, and he'd had to rip a hole in the back to fit his identity discs on his back. Luckily, those had not been lost as well... losing his memories and very self would have made this transition far worse.

A small frown creased Tron's face at that thought. What, exactly, had happened in those last moments on the Grid? He remembered... falling. Regaining himself. Overcoming Rinzler. He'd been certain he would be derezzed as he hit the water and rebooted, but then he'd awakened here...

Better not to think about that, not just now. At the moment, he was not a prisoner, not apparently, anyway, and he was himself again. Adjusting to this User world would take some time, though. So for the time being, he simply stood to the side, watching, attempting to process everything he saw.

James Barnes

[anotheroldsoldier]

9.01 | Hall, Morning Hours

[anotheroldsoldier]

[Signing the contract was pretty much mandatory, as far as he figured. But portals and things on the fritz and space ships aren't even on his 'weird' radar, just... inconvenient and annoying. He's got a job to do back home, and it's a pretty demanding one. He can't be taking time off for this kind of adventure. He's seated cross-legged on a mat off to the side, familiarizing himself with the functions of his MID - after he's requested a new one, because this thing is getting in the way of his trigger finger. Right now he's just wearing the provided thermals, and socks, because he's been shoeless since he got here - his favorite boots, and his favorite knife were apparently lost in transit. He's still got a couple of handguns and a small amount of spare ammo, though, which he's keeping tucked under his neatly-folded tac suit and given uniforms.

He's looking through the directory now, searching for any faces he recognizes - because first step in a new dimension is to attempt to find allies. Unfortunately, he's not finding Daisy's name, but there are a couple that look promising. He'll have to go see if he can find them.

That's about when rooming assignments go out, and he can't help but bow his head and snort.] A whole satellite station to myself for a month and now it's back to bunking with strangers. Just my luck.

Niko Bellic

[vengeance_driven]

09.02 | Mess Hall

[vengeance_driven]

"Beverage Dissemination Officer" was a hell of a title. Not one he ever thought he would end up with.

He sat behind a counter shoving heavy mugs into a large washer to be cleaned, jammed clean ones into a freezer to chill. He'd seen Mel do that enough at Comrades to figure that much out. His perpetually angry face wasn't warm nor inviting to anyone coming for a drink (though even if he hadn't felt a little temperamental he would have looked like that, afflicted with a perpetually aggressive expression).

Niko took a step back to examin the variety of bottles, odd shapes and colors that were aligned by type. Some sweet fruity liquer things, some sharp whiskeys and hard vodkas. Some infused with nonsense flavors, and some fucking drinks that looked like they'd make you piss purple and taste diamonds. Who the hell knew what was going on there.

He didn't know how to handle any of this stuff, and in the back of his mind there was both a relief at not having to live as he had been for the past year, and a frustration that made him want to grab some of these bottles and smash them into the floor. To crack off the bottoms of some and jam them into some hateful person's gut, the first one that infuriated him from the periphery. But he really couldn't do that, could he? So he just had to clean this shit like the bastard glasses owed him a favor.

After rubbing his hand over the short hair at the back of his head, he grunted at being reminded of the hateful thing on his hand. If he was American he would have appreciated that it would just accentuate the way it would help him flip someone off. Now it was just an obstacle to wash his hands or wear his gloves or shit... just another tag on a dog he guessed.

He leaned against the bar and waited for the first idiot that needed to be drunk. They inevitably would, he knew, because one of these bottles of vodka had his name on it for later. Serving minors was up to his discretion. There was no legal drinking age where he was from (you just couldn't buy it until you were 18), so he didn't give a crap about what "minor" would mean.

Matt Murdock

[exteroception]

9.01 | halls

[exteroception]

[Matt Murdock being the vigilante Daredevil had been very publicly plastered all over the papers, but he still clung to what little semblance of a secret identity he had remaining. This meant he had to continue the fiction that he wouldn't be able to navigate these corridors when his cane had somehow vanished. One hand braced against the wall, while he shuffled forward slowly with his other arm working as a stand in for his cane.

Every now and then he'll rub his face, unaccustomed to not having his glasses when he was out in public. He's clearly well dressed and groomed and his missing glasses are the one thing out of place. He can do without his cane for now, but his glasses were a must. And if his behaviour didn't make it clear, seeing his eyes would make it obvious that he's blind.

Barring magic or teleportation, Matt will know of anyone approaching long before they see him so he waits until they're an appropriate distance away.]

Hello? Is someone there?

Adrien

[prorenataa]

9.02 MedBay

[prorenataa]

[ As soon as he had been given access to return to the medical bay, Adrien had made a be-line for what was familiar. Well, somewhat familiar. In truth it was quite a bit different than what he was used too but there were some constants.

Like cotton balls.

He was quiet as he went about his business, familiarizing himself with the space. Equipment was perused, and inventory was taken. Just finding where things were kept and eventually he looked up the procedures Curre had said he would find, particularly for the OR.

Eventually the restless need to fiddle with something got the better of him and Adrien dug into a closet of supplies, meaning to take an inventory count. What he ended up doing instead was knocking something out of balance and sending piles of q-tips and bandages careening down on his head. ]

Fuck! Damn it!

[ He leaned back, trying to catch and juggle stuff but really he just succeeded in getting pelted in the face with rolls of gauze.

This was starting out well. ]

Joker Moreau

[makeherdance]

09.01 Main Hall

[makeherdance]

Saying he's not happy about his unexpected 'conscription' would be an understatement. This is not his ship and so far he hasn't spotted even so much as a familiar face among the few people he'd shared the Med Bay with upon arrival. They all seemed human, which was odder still. No Turians, Asari... was this Cerberus then? It was his first suspicion, even though the he'd been assured that no, that wasn't the case. He wasn't convinced, but after a thorough physical that lacked all of Chakwas' familiar bedside manner, he was shuffled out into the Main Hall with the rest of the... what? Kidnappees? Prisoners? Refugees? Tactful politicking really wasn't his forte.

Although sleeping was obviously going to be out, he realized as he eyed the mats on the floor with considerable skepticism. Considering he still ached and felt a little strange after his trip through whatever the Ingress was, getting down might happen, but getting back up at some unknown future point was an exercise in humiliation he'd rather avoid for the time being.

So instead he finds a quiet corner and tucks himself into it, braced up in the nook where two walls meet and where nothing can come up behind him. It gives him a good view of the room and keeps him out of anyone's way as he settles in to watch, and wait. For whatever they've been brought here for.

Eggsy Unwin

[commontype]

9.02

[commontype]

[After a night of sleeping on the floor, which doesn't really bother him (he's used to worse), he's still pleasantly happy when the message comes across his MID stating his room assignments. So, that's where he goes.

Nomo Deck, room #006.

He takes off the suit he'd shown up in, carefully folding it and placing it in the compartment inside his bunk. Eggsy wonders who will be sleeping in the other three beds, and after he changes into his uniform, he hangs around in there waiting for a roommate to show up.

Out of boredom, he moves out into the hall, wandering up and down the length of it, hoping to bump into a deckmate, too.]

Ivan Vorpatril

[whatdidisay]

9.01. main hall.

[whatdidisay]

Ivan likes to imagine himself as the sort of guy that avoids this exact sort of situation. Not that he's ever been in this sort of situation, even counting the two times he's been kidnapped and that one time he slept his way across the galaxy to wherever his cousin was supposed to be. But he tries, he really tries to slip under the radar and not end up places where he's given a new job and told to wait while everyone attempts to throw together rooms. At least he recognizes the food he's offered as standard military issue and therefore not going to yield up anything appetizing. Might be better than rat-bars at any rate.

Ivan grabs a few, taller than a fair amount of people around him -- predictably jostling one or two as he does so, and mutters aloud to himself. "What's a Public Relations Officer even supposed to do here?" It sounds like an easy job. He can't wait. One desk job to the next, and he's got experience. It's probably why they gave it to him in the first place, Ivan tells himself.

At least it'll keep him out of trouble. And that's the sort of good thoughts Ivan needs right about now. He can still get out of this alive if he keeps his head down, no problem.

Tali'Zorah

[keelahselai]

1st Sep. - Main Hall

[keelahselai]

She still remembered the last planet she had been on. It was easy to zone out and remember the deadened landscape, the drowned city, all the little twisted details that made the fact that it was some version of Earth hit her so much harder. It still made her a little sick to the stomach. In her mind, that planet still waited as she numbly pressed her thumb to the bottom of the contract. Even stepping into the main hall, some part of it was yet to sink in. The dizziness from being brought there had faded quickly, but somehow she was still reeling, mind working furiously and never seeming to really get anywhere.

As soon as the group - small, not quite fifty people - was left to its own devices, Tali started to pace restlessly, as if the moving around was going to work off the nervous energy working itself up in her.

The uniform she was wearing wasn't helping. It wasn't her envirosuit - didn't feel like it, and part of her wringing her bare hands together was the uncomfortable cold. She'd spent years wishing she didn't have to wear the thing, and the one time it was taken off her? She wanted it back. Funny how these things work. (It wasn't really funny at all.)

Though she could have taken her mask off - and she was still getting used to that fact, that was still firmly attached. It felt in that moment like the one thing she had left of herself.

She took one deep breath. Another. Turned around--

And banged right into somebody.

"Ah-- sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going."

That much was obvious.

Howard Stark

[innovention]

9.01; mess hall, evening

[innovention]

[Howard likes to think he's adaptable. He's no stranger to oddity or weirdness or strange technology by a long shot, but this? This is straight out of a dime pulp magazine from the corner newsstand. Astounding Science Fiction, maybe. One minute, he's elbow-deep in the engine of a Twin Beech, then next he's standing on a ramp in a space ship, sick with vertigo. The rest had been a brisk, efficient blur: a little too detailed of a medical history, some perfunctory explanations, and a contract - a contract that, for all their hosts' reassurances, didn't seem very optional at all to him.

So he'd signed. Signed, been fitted with a (frankly amazing, and frankly uncomfortable) 'MID', and firmly ushered into the same room as the rest of the arrivals. It was - is crazy, and he still doesn't know exactly what he's seeing.

But not knowing isn't an excuse for not learning, so it's only a few hours later that he finds himself in the mess, scribbling down his notes and observations and ideas in a beat-up leather journal. He has a MRE by his side, but it's unopened - Howard's focus is, for the moment, on his fellow crew members. And while he may look relaxed, there's something sharp and thoughtful in the way he watches everyone else.]

Miles Vorkosigan

[forwardmomentum]

9.01, main hall

[forwardmomentum]

Waste disposal technician. Waste disposal technician. This is Kyril Island all over again -- although at least here, he supposes, he won't have to worry about freezing to death, probably -- Miles is feeling and thinking a lot of things about suddenly winding up here, but irritation and misery are ranked highly among them, temporarily overriding the curiosity and the constant running analysis in the back of his brain, rapidly trying to collate his observations and figure out a next step. No, right now he's feeling rather sour about the situation, having pushed his shock aside for the time being. He's been through enough crazy stuff that he can roll with this. Still a little dizzy from his trip through the Ingress and thoughtfully poking at the MID on his wrist -- he really isn't crazy about jewelry he can't take off -- Miles makes his way through the main hall, grabbing a few MREs and a hydration kit and setting out for a place to bunker down for the night.

Miles doesn't cut a very inconspicuous figure in the crowd, though, even being as short as he is. Standing only at 4'9 with a crooked spine and a head that looks like it belongs on a man of six feet, Miles' strangely wizened face in combination with his odd body makes it hard to pin down his exact age, so the man of twenty-five years might easily pass as ten years in either direction. He walks with a slight limp, the jacket of his Imperial dress uniform slung over his shoulder as he hunts for an unoccupied mat and dodges anyone too tall to be bothered noticing someone of his height.

Adrian 'Force' Clark

[forcefulgift]

Main Hall - 9.01

[forcefulgift]

Adrian walks into the main hall, tugging at his thermals a little. Its not that he wasn't used to ridiculously tight outfits, after all even at Xavier's part of his mission outfit had been made out of something that resembled a wetsuit, a protective material that was meant to be beneficial to him in long haul flights. It wasn't uncomfortable, he just had to get used to it. Back home he'd been spending a lot of his down time in sweats and a hoodie, even if he knew tight clothing worked better for him when he was working with his powers he couldn't help but feel like he was on show. He walked out of the medbay carrying the rest of his crap but paused just outside it, throwing aforementioned hoodie over his head to make him feel a little more normal. Across the back was a large X and the text Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters circling it. He bends down to scoop up the actual uniforms he'd been handed and tucks them all under one arm. He could've allowed them to float around him, sure, but he was playing that card close to his chest for now. He wouldn't let people know he had powers in an unfamiliar location.

When he gets into the main hall though and finds out that these were his sleeping arrangements though he just sighs loudly before grabbing one of the strange water bottles, not bothering with a mat or a blanket, and finding a nice patch of wall to slump down against, sitting lotus position and watching the crowd as he alternated between drinking the strange water and just chewing on the straw. He was itching for a cigarette but those, much to his ire, had mysteriously disappeared in transit.

Two days. Just two days to wait until he could get some open space.

Loki

[realitywarped]

9.01 Main Hall

[realitywarped]

After the initial disorientation and processing wears off, Loki finds his thoughts settling into very pessimistic grooves. It's true, so far this place seems better than the pit of torment and bad times he was pulled from, but Loki can't escape the inevitable horrible feeling that given a little time, all this will turn out to be yet more of the same. And so far, this time, without the very welcome distraction of keeping an eye on Billy, which really isn't helping his mood.

The news that shelter and supplies for the night consists of freeze-dried rations and a very open room of blankets doesn't really do much to improve it, either. Between the loss of his coat, the absence of Billy, and conditions aboard the ship, he's very much unimpressed, and showing it the way Loki does best. He smiles, sharp and thin and with little humour at all, keeps his tone of voice whimsical but his eyes narrowed.

In search of a distraction, he perches on the edge of one of the crates of MREs, wrinkling his nose at the contents, talking at anyone who comes close.

"Do you suppose the plan is to wear us into submission through deprivation? I'm fairly sure I wouldn't feed these to anyone I actually wanted to work for me willingly."

Steve Rogers

[captain_america]

Main Hall; 9.01

[captain_america]

Suddenly finding himself in an unfamiliar place isn’t necessarily a surprise. Steve figures that might be a side effect of crashing a place in the arctic in 1945 and waking up in a fake 1940’s hospital in New York City…in 2012. However one minute being in Avengers Tower and the next being on a strange platform having just experienced the worst case of vertigo was definitely not something he expected.

He’d eventually signed the contract, not that he felt he was really given a choice in the matter, and not before demanding answers. His only option it seemed was to work and try to make it back home, which he figured was the same boat everyone else scattered about the main hall was in. The thing that bothered him the most was the fact that his shield had apparently been lost in transit. It was a blow; the shield had at least been the one thing he still had that spanned time with him and now it was gone. He'd been assured that if it turned up it would be delivered to him, but Steve wasn't too optimistic it would. With no other option available to him he figured the only thing he could do was make the best of a bad situation and maybe he’d see a familiar face, which immediately made him feel guilty because he really shouldn’t wish for any of his friends to be here.

He would get used to it, he would make friends and he would do what he had to do to get home. Getting accustomed to a strange place with people he didn’t know was something he was familiar with at least. He’d done it before he could do it again.

rinth ghostshot

[encharrneered]

09.01, GALLEY

[encharrneered]

"Useless," is what Rinth can be found muttering along with other friendly words like 'terrible' and 'trash' as she roots around through the ship's galley. Surrounded, as far as she's concerned, by a majorly human crew has left her ill at ease and she had vanished from the main hall as soon as she could manage it, leaving behind whatever she found unnecessary (in particular the uniforms; her own gear is actually made for a massive digitigrade cat, she'll stick with that). Even out of sight, every movement she makes it tense, freezing at every unidentified sound, her tail tip lashing back and forth as any irritated cat's might. It might be for the best that she's left to go exploring and, like any good Iron Legion charr, seeking out a decent supply of materials. That much is a familiar task to fall into.

Luckily, what she's finding in the galley doesn't speak to her as something to scrap and put to better use.

A fork tossed aside, clattering against the floor, she leaves off digging through the utensils and moves on to the various unlabeled containers and what have you. Sniffing them if enough for her. No need to pry everything open, though anything that makes her sneeze or wrinkle her nose is put back quickly.

Tony Stark

[narcissistictendencies]

[OOC: Bracket or Prose are both acceptable. I'll match you.]

Main Hall

[narcissistictendencies]

Main Hall ( 9.01 - 9.03 )

Tony wasn't shy, but he didn't much fancy coming to completely undressed within the damaged suit. Furthermore, it had quickly released him as soon as he felt the first tingles of consciousness, though he didn't remember losing consciousness. He had no idea where he was or how he got there until he was herded in for his exam, then out again. He was given the verbal brochure, a new 'toy' attached to his wrist, and ushered to the main hall with something to change into, thankfully. There was something to be said about the humour of losing his clothes but keeping the suit in transit.

As soon as he made his way, he left the damaged suit off in a corner, initiating lock-down mode, with voice-command override only. With that handled he began to tinker with the idle armour, running his fingers over the marred alloy. No tools, no access to the materials he needed, no spare parts... he'd be defenceless for a while. Out in the middle of intergalactic BFE with no way to communicate with the team and a damaged suit with a dangerously low battery. He's been in worse situations, but that still made him a bit edgy.

A resigned expression pulled at his mouth slightly, followed by a sigh. "When I said 'We maybe don't walk away' I didn't mean one of us would get abducted." He shook his head and rapped a knuckle against the golden face plate of the suit. "Well, Toto? What now? Because I'm pretty sure the related cliché is an understatement at this point." He wasn't really talking to anyone in particular. But if someone were to respond, he'd easily strike up a conversation.

Tony Stark (616)

[definingfuture]

Main Hall 9.01 - 9.03

[definingfuture]

After arriving in an unfamiliar room and having a bit of a tense initial contact, Tony has since calmed down. He was probably a sight in retrospect, arriving in full armor and ready to fire on the captains in defense. But once the situation was explained to him, he dropped the attempt. Still, he wasn't sure how much good their medical assessment would do for a genetically-modified body (the doctors at home mostly left him to people like Pym now) and he wasn't about to explain Extremis to any of them. Once he left the Medbay, Tony was pretty sure whatever impression he'd made on the captains was awkward. But at least all that was over with.

The main hall is uncomfortable. Crowded, like their all having some kind of emergency and are bunked together in one place, complete with MRE's and sleeping mats. Tony looks around at the other unfortunate people presumably drawn in by the Ingress and says a little more loudly than necessary, "You'd think we could at least get some coffee while we wait. That's just good manners."

Leon Kennedy

[morebulletspls]

Mail Hall 9.01-9.03

[morebulletspls]

I.

Leon doesn't sit still. He explores the galley and the mess hall, getting a good mental layout of the areas in case something happens later on. He doesn't want to have to guess where to go later if they have a crisis. He also checks out the hold, which is... not that great, actually. It's a pretty Spartan situation even when they do get rooms. And anyone exploring near the solitary confinement area might run into him as he listens at the edge of the entrance. He looks tense, fixed on some unseen threat that he is trying to pick up on. That area becomes part of his personal patrol route over the next few days. Is it weird to turn the corner and see an armed man guarding that particular end of the hall? Maybe.

II.

The second and third day of their stay, Leon is getting more familiar with the ship. He's using the exercise equipment available to them during the early hours and going on personal runs along open halls when fewer people are out in them. And, of course, there's the cargo hold thing. Who decided to put him on inventory detail? He would roll his eyes, but it's honestly better than fighting crowds of infected corpses.

"Where'd they put you?" He was asking the other strangers casually, just to get an idea of what the captains were doing with everyone. "They want to put us to work, but how much experience do you have in whatever job they gave you?"

Clark Kent

[heliakal]

Main Hall 9.01-9.03

[heliakal]

As extraordinary as Clark's life had been in some ways, it never prepared him for this. The arrival had been one thing. It was jarring, sudden enough that a part of him wondered if he was somehow back on Zod's ship, having never left the interrogation. It certainly felt like the kind of impossible jump-cut that only happened in a dream.

He had allowed the crew usher him along to the medbay without protest at first, even as he pressed them with questions, or scanned his surroundings for some kind of deception. The crew were relatively accommodating, if harried, and didn't seem particularly keen on him even after their scan. That in itself was... Not a terrible change of pace, but Clark couldn't help the lingering sense of weariness. He'd read over every line of his contract, but he'd signed it in the end. There wasn't really anything else to do.

Out in the hallway, he collected the water and food and settled in among the other refugees. Many of them looked as human as he did, and even if it was extraordinary to see other kinds of aliens, he knew better than to stare. He tried to be unobtrusive and utterly ordinary, even now. He'd only just begun using his abilities to their full effect; it was difficult to shake a lifetime of habit. He'd lost his glasses during transit somehow, but otherwise he still wore the clothes he'd arrived in; slacks and a dark button-down shirt. The items he'd been given were folded and left beside him, along with his jacket and tie, settled on top of his bag for the moment.

He sat with his back to a wall, one knee drawn up so he could use it to press against while he scribbled notes into a small writing pad. Writing things down helped him think, but mostly he was doing it now because it made him look busy, and it gave his hands something to do. He kept his gaze downcast, eavesdropping on conversations here and there. They were generally the same; irritable, lost people trying to make sense of things. He wished he knew how to help.

Eventually, he stopped listening and leaned back with a soft exhale. On this particular page, he'd made a rough sketch of a pair of slippers. He tapped his pen lightly against the notebook. When he spoke, his tone was dry, and not without a touch of wry humor: "There's no place like home."

As if it would be that easy.

Fennel

[ambustion]