(no subject)

[savmods]

Who: Everyone
When: July 1 and onward. See this post for info.
Where: Kauto + Chioni + Ingress Complex
Warnings: Potential violence. Please label warn-worthy content in your subject headers.

There's a burst of light in the sky when the Ingress breaks, a final flare followed by a shuddering that only those in the facility can feel. A flurry of panicked activity in the complex follows, ushering new arrivals to where they need to go in a hurry, with little time to give them the needed information, much less answer questions. The lights remain on, but dimmer now, life functions still operating but little else. On Kauto and Chioni below, the sky fades into an early twilight, followed by night, and day does not come again.

nerds save the world

Before the end of the day, all TABs receive an emergency broadcast notification outlining the situation. The speaker, a lead Savriite Ingress technician, does not invite panic but nor does he mince words. The Ingress is broken; their best efforts have failed to restore it. The time has come to turn to anyone who can help: scientists, engineers, those who have worked with advanced technology on any world. Formal qualifications don't matter when it could be the end of everything.

"Help us. Before it is too late."

Those who come will have the run of the complex and full access to the Ingress, as well as whatever tools are available and as much coffee as they can drink. People are encouraged to work in groups and share ideas, and a small number of young and nervous technical assistants will be on hand.

the land below

As Thisavrou is denied light and warmth, the weather becomes brisk and descends into bitter cold. Chioni is evacuated due to the effects on the already-harsh weather cycles there, although a skeleton crew of scientists remain behind. On Kauto, the arboreal Region Three and pastoral Region Two suffer the most from the temperatures and the snow that eventually begins to fall. Many crops are frozen over, and refugee citizens are driven from their homes to the Regions One and Five, where stored energy will keep dwellings warm. Save for those who choose to leave the underwater facilities, Region Four remains largely unchanged, but there are unverified accounts of strange aquatic animal behavior near the surface.

Overcrowding, limited supplies and a pervasive fear presents the opportunity for both heroism and foul deeds. Many come together to share resources, supplies and fellowship in what could be the end of worlds, while others take what they can from the unwilling or exploit the desperate. Sentient evacuees are followed by fauna from Region Three and unsettled lands beyond, in search of warmth or food or merely confused by the change in habitat. Some are unthreatening herbivores, while tanglesnakes and clownbees are more troublesome. Others are poisonous hunters, while still others are small, but dangerous when faced as a pack.

Just when all seems lost, light returns to the sky. The Ingress begins to function once more.

the coming days

As the temperatures rise, many demand answers, but most turn to the rebuilding of their lives first. Damage has been done that isn't so easily fixed, and even in the least-affected areas, remnants of the crisis show in the lack of fresh food, in the increased signs of criminal activity. Those who can help others through their own efforts of by organizing assistance are needed, but those with impure intentions are more likely to go unnoticed.

Eavesdropping on the streets may reveal a desire for vengeance. "Those intruders from last week. They're responsible for this, aren't they? What's being done?" But don't listen too closely, or a suspicious eye may be turned on you. "Aren't you one of the refugees from the Midway Hub? You should return to where you came from! All the trouble began when your people showed up!"

Life goes on. But life does not go on unchanged.

[quick ooc note: the Region 4 search & retrieval mission/RNG fight will be posted in a separate log.]

Comments

[alterplex]

[ 'A taste of home' for Venom tends to veer on the side of lukewarm hardtack and half-congealed rations, so the alternative that Angela offers is a welcome deviation from the usual. Rösti, he repeats under his breath, as if his clumsy pronunciation will lend him some more knowledge of the segment of fritter being offered to him on slim fingers.

He doesn't question why Angela doesn't use a conventional utensil to hand the food off to him; she doesn't because she doesn't see a need to, and she's right. After all, Venom is tame in the way that a wild wolf raised in an urban environment is. Discerning, but adaptable.

The big bad cryptid opens his mouth, bares his canines. Look into the yawning chasm of his mouth, see the venom in his veins!!!!!!

Or just watch him close his scarred lips over a manicured nail and nibble the portion of comfort food being extended to him— that too. How frightful. ]

...It's good. [ He says, making sure not to leave crumbs along Angela's shoulder. ] Would've recruited you on base just to eat this every other day.

[ He may not be joking about this. ]

[cadeuces]

[ She can at least one-up hardtack and field rations from the 1980s, so that in itself is a relief. Once she's cooled the bite to a temperature she can handle, she's picking up the bit from the spatula to offer to him and carefully watching as he repeats the name and considers what she's offering between her fingertips.

Discerning, yes, but then his lips part to the glint of white teeth out of the corner of her eye, the scrape of enamel over her nail and the softest pinch as she sets it on his tongue, and then she's giggling to the sensation with the twitch of her shoulders.

Truly terrifying. ]

You think so? [ Very clearly pleased with this and genuine in her asking, if the faint flush of color in her cheeks says anything. ] I'm still getting the hang of recipes. I never did cook much before.

I can't even imagine life as a medic-slash-cook. That's one too many hats for my head. Still, I'm flattered. And I'm very glad you like it. How about this?

[ And once she's fished out a spoon, she's dipping it right into the müesli to offer him a bite of that, as well. ]

[alterplex]

[ Some part of his programming tells him that eating is a luxury, that hot food is something to savor. It's so different from the uncompromising stench of freshly-killed game or the dry crunch of insect-based protein; Angela's cooking is as delicate as she is, equal measures savory and sweet.

She shouldn't be surprised that Venom opens his mouth for more, but he feels the warmth of her flush along his jaw as he chews.

In the cold, the rise in temperature is pleasant. ]

Same principle. [ With respect to moonlighting as a medic while cooking by day: ] You take care of people.

[ Home is where the stomach is, as some people would say. He cuts off his philosophical debate there, though, to mull over this delicious bite of müesli. To hum over it ("good", in no uncertain terms) and triangulate his focus on the rest, like a lion scoping out a pack of gazelles. ]

[cadeuces]

[ Perhaps it is, in their line of duty, but then luxuries are to be enjoyed. The fact that he's enjoying her attempts are enough for her, yet to pull away and opening his mouth for more when it's offered to him. Honestly, she'd stand there and feed him right from the skillet if he keeps insisting, however quietly.

When has anyone enjoyed her cooking? Everyone was too tired when they were camping, Genji doled out his praise too easily to truly believe it, and the rest of the time... she feeds only herself, and her standards are high. She knows she's only decent. Still, it's hot and edible and tastes familiar enough to call it "home".

Hopefully it'll warm him through after he trek in the cold, still clinging to him. At least here, between the hearth in the center of the cabin and the oven still going strong, he's in a pocket of heat to warm him from the inside and out. ]

I can't argue with you, when you put it that way.

[ And abandoning feeding him long enough to flip the cakes over once more, browned on both sides, before she's scooping up a bit that broke off the edge and offering it to him anew. ]

Are you ready to eat? Properly, not out of my hand.

[ Not that she seems to be complaining when she continues to do so. ]

[alterplex]

[ Communal meals are an exercise in bonding. Traditionally speaking, to consume the same menu of beige slop every day with the soldier next to you is a guaranteed way to foster trust through shared suffering— you bite into the same pre-boiled can of beans, break your teeth over the same slice of bread. You commiserate through the clockwork torture your tongue endures. Rinse, repeat.

On the flipside, the norm tends to be a novelty for stealth operatives. Venom's only recently discovered the intricacies of shared eating, only recently started broadening his repertoire from 'cramming food in his mouth before wading into enemy territory' to 'casual invitations for a meal and a chat without the pomp and circumstance of a situational briefing'. Angela'd largely coaxed him into the latter— predictable, since she's never had a taste for pretense.

So here's the meat of it: she can admire the fruits of her labor. For all the months she's spent cajoling the taciturn soldier into uncomplicated interaction, he's learned not to ascribe complications where there aren't any.

Even more succinctly: he continues to eat out of her fuckin hand, despite her asking if he can stop being a caveman. ]

—Hm.

[ A half-answer, coarse tongue wiping residual food from his lips. He's comfortable here against the set of her back and the easy offering of morsels, but it's not very proper of him, is it.

His shoulders are the first parts of him to peel back, and the rest of him follows. The last bits to go are his prosthetic fingers, which linger for a second just to make sure that Angela adjusts without his weight behind her. ]

Right. We've got work to do. [ So they have to eat fast!!!!! ]

the day freshy doesn't edit a tag is the day I leave the mortal realm

[cadeuces]

[ The last thing she misses are military rations, even in the future. Solar cooking emptied packets of pasta claiming to be spaghetti that still tasted suspiciously like stale ketchup and enriched macaroni, a mush that was once a vegetable, some sugary desert like chocolate cookies or M&Ms. Everyone suffered for the high-protein and high-caloric boxes, but they suffered together— the only saving grace of such meals.

If she had the chance to make something fresh, even a shoddy stew, she would go out of her way to do so. Campfire bread even ugly as it was... it was still fresh and soft, and warm. Give others something halfway pleasant that wouldn't curdle in their gut and leave them miserable behind their tents later, and to be able to extend that to Ahab?

It's hard to so much as say the words when he's sharing that enjoyment with her so openly. They've settled so nicely in one another's presence after all this time, haven't they? They've both earned it.

Angela the ability to share her own cooking with another who could enjoy it, and Ahab the step up in dietary fare and casual friendship. It was billed as payment for his assistance, but they both knew he didn't have to lift a finger for her to share her meals with him. They've shared too many other things to stop at food. Even as she teases him, she's continuing to offer whatever she can pick up to him as long as he stands there, doing them no favors in proceeding.

With tools such as serveware and silverware. That normal people use.

It's sinfully comfortable to continue as they are, but that's bordering on sloth, isn't it? She very nearly leans further back when he begins to pry away from her, stopping herself after the momentary rock of one foot. Then back onto her toes, planting herself upright on her own two feet. He always makes sure she's steady before pulling away, at least— never without cause with how easily she's come to lean against him, certainly. ]

We're down to four hours now. By the time we've finished eating, it could already be dark.

[ Teasing overly much, now, lopsided little smile the only indication with how serious her words are delivered as she begins to dish up his plate, then her own. Heaping helpings of everything. Rösti twice as big as her own, double the oats (and cream) in the müesli, and come time for the pie— a bigger slice than her own is sure to come. ]

What would you like to drink, Ahab? Milk, juice, coffee? I have orange, apple, and grapefruit.

WHAT THE HECK.... continues to make mistakes so you can remain in the mortal coil

[alterplex]

[ As far as vices go, sloth is the one they can probably indulge in every once in a while. Still, they're not built for large doses of it— work is as integral to them as breathing— so Venom swaps that one out for gluttony. Takes the plate that Angela offers him and makes it as far as an empty spot on the kitchen counter before he starts eating.

Manners, Ahab. ]

It'll have to be a night op, then.

[ Rolling with the teasing, responding over a mouthful of bacon and cheese. He's hunched over the polished countertop, elbows on the surface with his broad shoulders like twin peaks rising up to his scarred ears. Angela could probably use his back as a table. ]

...I can make my own coffee. Don't worry about it.

just as planned uwu

[cadeuces]

[ No, they weren't particularly skilled with slowing down, nor did laziness suit them. A few moments here and there was more help than hindrance. A chance to catch their breath and rest, as they always did in one another's presence. Re-orient, strike back out into the world. It's come to be their routine, hasn't it?

Angela's only a couple moments behind him, finishing her plating and pouring a glass of milk to bring with her, laying a hand between his shoulderblades once she's set her things down beside him. ]

I trust I'll be in capable hands if it comes down to it. Mind your posture, now. No one's going to steal the food from your mouth.

[ Gentle ribbing before her hand leaves him and she's digging in as well with a fraction of the gusto, daintier bites brought up and covering her mouth as she chews. A bent back later in life didn't suit him; he's a man meant to stand tall.

The milk is left between them in an open offer of sharing, should he choose to take a swallow before eventually getting up for coffee. ]

[alterplex]

[ Funny, that a year of ostensible civilian life still hasn't managed to knock his field instincts from him. Angela's palm between the jagged jut of his shoulderblades is a reminder that an errant wind won't breathe sand into his food; he relaxes his posture and rises up to half-mast. ]

Gonna yell at me about my elbows on the counter next?

[ Mom. Whatever dryness that might cut the ends of his words razor-sharp is tempered by the soft breath he punctuates his statement with. His humor echoes in the vast expanse of his chest.

When he draws up to full height for a break from eating and an attempt to make coffee, it's with the air of a man who's grown accustomed to being in Angela's company and scrutiny. Effortless, like a monster in his natural habitat. ]

[cadeuces]

[ It took time, as all things do. So she's grown used to gentle nudges and teasing re-direction, the slightest touch resulting in the unfurling of his body from around his food— expanding. He seems to swell in size as he straightens even halfway, his shoulders unfolding. And he looks a little more comfortable for having done so; the most she'd ask of him. ]

I try not to make it a habit to be a nagging mother, but if you really feel you need it...

[ The smile's barely contained for her answer, making quick enough work of the late lunch with smaller servings and daintier bites all the same. She's also spent years on a military timetable. When he takes his break to get up, he only grows further and he looks entirely comfortable navigating her kitchen, helping himself to a mug and the espresso machine while Angie sips at her milk. She's almost done eating.

So instead she watches him to see if he remembers how to work it, not that it's terribly difficult. The cabinet drawer beneath the maker opens to various colored pods, push up the handle to pop out the spout and reveal the compartment to drop the pod in, close it back up, hit the larger cup button. She won't offer direction unless he looks to her for it. ]

[alterplex]

[ Please, Angela, you're a decade younger than him (call him daddy). He knows how medics can get, though— insistent, because no one ever fucking listens to them.

The difficulty Venom has with the coffee machine is less about how to operate it (he's not a total caveman) and more with respect to which pod he should pop in. What the heck are even these options... what language is this in, what the heck is "Intenso Arpeggio"??? "Espresso Livanto"??? Why can't he just have a cup of coffee, why is everything so fancy.

At this point he might just pick a color and be done with it. The red is nice. The red looks manageable.

(The red is the decaffeinated one, what a fucking dingus.) ]

That'd be a demotion on your part. I'll pass.

[ You're his friend, not a mom. He's frowning a bit, though, tentative fingers trying to read the fine print on his capsule. ]

[cadeuces]

[ (ok daddy...////) ]

[ He's close to the truth, though, and gives way to her guidance without a fuss— she's had rare enough reason to pressure him into anything (the only times she can recall were for him to rest when he pushed too hard), and she's sure he realizes her gratitude for it. That he's aware of the relief she takes in seeing him fed and rested, doing well. Not out of concern he can't handle himself, but instead the pleasure in a dear friend's well-being. It's all she asks of him. She holds no worry that he'll ever ignore her when the time comes to give direction.

When he hesitates over the drawer and eventually withdraws a red pod (of course he would), she's resting her chin in hand and smiling. Give him a few moments, and theeeeeen: ]

That one's decaf, you know. I usually make either the dark blue or the olive green ones for you. The green one has that bit of spice in it. [ Just to help. With the demotion comment: ] Would it? Well, I can be proud of you in either role, I suppose.

[alterplex]

[ Callout post for Venom Snake, in whatever millennia or century it is right now in space: Doesn't Even Know Which Coffee To Drink. Angela's caught him with his proverbial pants down with this one, and he blinks back her observation with a level of self-deprecating apology staining the edges of his half-curled lips. 'You got me'.

Obediently, he swaps out the red for green. Christmas in July (or whatever this month is, it's cold enough to be December). ]

Thanks. [ What would he do without you, Angela. ] —Not sure how I feel about the 'proud' part, though.

[ The coffee maker rumbles under his palm once he puts everything in place, threatening to drown out the tail end of his statement. ]

[cadeuces]

[ VENOM SNAKE DID NOTHING WRONG... the fault lies with Dr. Angela Ziegler, Purveyor of Too Much Coffee. (At least the view's a thicc one.)

His look of apology is met with only the best-humored exasperation, the tiniest shake of the head already answering with a silent 'oh, you'. It's more sign that she has his back as he has hers than any sort of criticism.

Ahab opts for the green and she smiles a fraction wider, because it's her favorite. Especially with cream and a stick of cinnamon. It was a lovely wake-up. The blue was rich and dark, but she's always had a soft spot for spices. They've always felt cozy, reminding her of the Christmas markets back home. ]

Always. [ End up with unsatisfying cups of coffee, apparently. Then who would be keeping her company and offering a solid shoulder to lean on? ] And why's that? I think I have the right to appreciate your resolve. The way you care about others and go out of your way to assist, even for things as silly as protecting my humble little orchard from the elements.

You're a good man, Ahab. Nothing could ever sway my stance.

[ Taking one of her last few bites to punctuate, watching him digest the words as she chews. Waiting for the inevitable refusal. It would be met with the stubborn lowering of her head, ready to lock antlers even as she peers up at him through her lashes. The rumble of the machine cuts them off for a few long moments, at least, and forces him to swallow. ]

[alterplex]

[ The device grinds to a halt, and Venom hovers around his cup to make sure that the last drops filter in before making his way back by Angela's side.

Her assessment is as kind as ever, matter-of-fact and devoid of excessive coddling. It's not meant to serve a purpose aside from stating her truth, but recent events detract from the credence of it somewhat. Venom's track record hasn't been stellar over the past few weeks.

He doesn't want to be predictable, though. He can see her bracing for his rebuttal in the set of her shoulders, the way she levels her eyes at him in a silent I-dare-you. ]

...You're making it sound like I'm on my deathbed.

[ So. A light, dry joke in lieu of a debate. The troubled slant of his brows lingers for approximately a fraction of a second before it decides to fade. ]

Don't try to kill me, just yet.