thisavrou_log | ( february intro log )

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( february intro log )

Who: Everyone
When: February 1st and on
Where: The Moira + Emiri
What: The crew finds themselves on the planet of Emiri
Warnings: Mentions of a corpse. Please label your content!

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famed & framed
"There will be no prison which can hold our movement down."

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 nothing is familiar.

Yet, unlike most new crew arrivals, this one is in the middle of chaos.

Despite more recent events, the planet of Emiri is not as peaceful as it once was. Frederick Link is still missing, and the authorities of Emiri have yet to lift the interplanetary ban they have placed on all space crafts docked at the aerospace. The captains previous held a meeting asking crew for any and all information that might help them locate the Komai, a mysterious group determined to undermine Link'd Inc's work providing flourishing matches across the universe by causing random acts of violence and protest across the three main cities: Harashan, Avelle, and St. Murtel. These things have led to mass arrests as well as an unsettling atmosphere spreading across the planet, and since a previous broadcast, things are beginning to escalate.

A downward spiral of these events begins as soon as new arrivals start to leave the Ingress—an unmarked box arrives in the cargo bay addressed to the inhabitants of the Moira. As per his job, Niko Bellic is the one to discover this box and open it. For some, the contents may be particularly gruesome. Link’s body is inside, clothed in a simple white button-down and pants (no shoes), and it looks as if letters have begun to bleed through the material. Anyone with expert knowledge of torture may note that Link was, in fact, tortured for information, and those letters? The writing itself spells out the name St. Murtel.

The captains, having been alerted of this, make an attempt to contact those at Link’d Inc. Unfortunately, the damage has already been done.

☄ First: MISCOMMUNICATION

Somehow, whether intentional or not, the Komai have once again hacked public systems and networks to brand those of the Moira as the ones behind these terroristic acts. They still use their own name, but the images are different, focusing on familiar faces wearing the ship’s uniforms and traveling to the Aerospace to return to the Moira. Not only that, there are short recordings of Link’s final words that mention a very recognizable name: Captain Thán. The Komai have redirected the blame to the Moira and its crew for their own means, and in response, any and all crew who are captured by authorities will immediately be detained and shipped out to unknown locations. The Captains send a message via MID and request everyone return to the ship to prevent this from happening. Yet, not all messages will be delivered depending on how far away they are.

With everyone’s safety hanging in the balance, the Captains have decided to take things into their own hands and find a way to lift the block on the Moira so they can leave Emiri’s orbit and avoid further repercussions regardless of whether or not any one of the crew wants to stay.

☄ Second: DECOY & DISTRACT

After learning that Benjamin Link, son of recently deceased Frederick Link, knows how to unlock the ship so they can leave, the captains ask for volunteers to act as decoys on a mission to the Aerospace in Harashan. Their job is to distract guards and Emiri citizens, leaving the path clear for Benjamin to get to the computers. The captains reiterate that they are to use nonfatal methods as they don’t want a repeat of the events on Caducus Primary. Without his help, the ship won’t be able to leave, making this mission critical and extremely time sensitive.

☄ Third: RESCUE

During the mission, Benjamin informs the crew that the Komai aren’t incorrect in their claims that Link’d Inc uses unforgivable means to obtain information in order to make their matches perfect. The children the crew dreamed about are just two of many—the offspring of Emirian citizens who had gone missing. It has long been suspected that Link’d Inc was involved in their disappearances, but only recently has the Komai done anything to shed light on these gruesome rumors. Benjamin, after successfully unlocking the ship, disables the security systems in St. Murtel, which will allow the children a chance to escape. They’ll need assistance in getting out of St. Murtel and to a pre-designated area in Avelle where a group of Komai and Emirians will be waiting for them.

But be careful. If anyone is recognized as part of the crew, they will be placed under arrest for treason and possibly never heard from again.

☄ Fourth: BREAKING OUT

Now that the computer systems in Harashan’s Aerospace have been used to release the Moira, the entire crew are being called back via MID for an expedient exit from Emiri. Crew will be asked to assist other Moirans in getting back to the ship as quickly as possible via transporters or other small crafts as leaving is their only option at this point. In the escape, Emiri launches an attack on the Moira in an attempt to stop them. The ship’s previously unused defense systems activate, and those assigned to those positions are required to man their posts. Perhaps even those who don’t have the clearance are needed. Either way, it’s time to leave.

☄ Fifth: REFUGEES

Now that the ship has finally escaped Emiri’s orbit, the crew will notice a group of stragglers in the main hall. During the crew’s quick exit, about fifty Emirians have taken refuge aboard the Moira, and the captains have agreed to take them to the closest planet so they may start again or live a life free of Link’d Inc “rule”. The captains ask the crew to help get them clothes and food for their short stay, no longer than a day at most, and to occupy them as best they can. Tell jokes, sing songs, bring up the kittens so that everyone can attempt to wind down after this series of unfortunate events. Light entertainment won’t be provided, but on request, some crew members may do just that.

( ooc; This plot is spread out over the first half of the month of February, and follows the order of the prompts listed above. Feel free to take as much time as you need to with your characters and use the info above for posts/logs at your discretion. For questions, go here. Please comment to activity check to receive new ranks (if applicable)! )

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The feeling of those bony hands gently closing around their own makes them look up again, sniffling and trying to keep from breaking down completely right then and there. Their hiccuping breaths slow a little, and it's only with an effort of will that Frisk can even bring themself to meet Sans' eyes.

"M...mnn."

"Look," Sans began, sounding just a hair less uncertain as he felt. This close to them, it was even easier to sense the waves of confusion and fear radiating off their tiny form. It wasn't the same child. It could be, but... for now, they weren't.

Sans had to hold onto that.

"I dunno what's going on. Things are different here. Between you and me, I think there are some, ah... determined individuals aboard that might outclass you." Not that Sans knew about Chara yet; there were plenty of others coming to mind. "Whatever it is, I need you to tell me what you remember. I'm only workin' with one timeline's worth of memories over here. I know we don't really know each other, or hell maybe we do, but can you help a guy out?"

Edited 2016-02-02 09:36 (UTC)

Frisk listens quietly while Sans explains, starting to calm down by the tiniest margin. The trembling in their hands fades to a tiny tremor, and the quiet whimpers stop entirely. The ground beneath their metaphorical feet isn't solid, but it at least steady again.

Hearing that there are other determined humans around the ship is worrying, of course, but Frisk is confident they can hold if not the timeline then at least their own memories. It's not much, but it's something at least.

It takes a moment, but they nod in response, trying to swallow down the thick feeling in their throat. "O...okay," they finally manage with a tiny, meek voice.

"Okay."

Sans's voice is low, trying to sound more comforting than the odd sort of detachment he feels. This is... bizarre. Just looking at the kid like this, it's enough to make Sans feel several different emotions at once. He was used to deja vu. It happened all the time. He could ignore it. This? Having hard and fast memories there as point of reference?

Wrestling with them was exhausting.

"Whenever you're ready, I guess." Sans looked around their surroundings before letting go of their hands, standing to his feet. "... Well, maybe not here. C'mon. I know a shortcut."

He held out his hand, browbone raised.

Frisk nods, their eyes following Sans as he stands and looks around at the mess surrounding them. Though it feels world's away they still feel a pang of guilt about leaving without tidying everything back up, but...they can come back afterward, or at least apologize.

Another quiet nod, and Frisk places their hand in the skeleton's own with a wobbly, tired smile that speaks of far more trust than they should have in a monster that had been mere seconds away from killing them in cold blood. While that nervousness and fear is still there, something else is blooming again beneath, a warmth that never, ever seems to die no matter what Frisk is put through.

Edited 2016-02-02 19:54 (UTC)

The moment Sans walked Frisk through the door, they were suddenly somewhere else. Stars blinked from the wide observation deck window, casting the entire room in the soft glow of starlight and instruments. Taking a seat on the floor, Sans motioned for Frisk to sit beside them.

"Figure we'll get more privacy this way." He took a breath, taking stock of the sky. It never got old, peering out through that inky blackness. Sans had no wishes to make, but he was grateful to the stars all the same. "Whenever you're ready."

The transition is only surprising for where the pair of them wind up, and Frisk gapes out at the view with wide eyes while Sans settles himself on the floor. They've seen space in pictures before, but to be in it is a whole other experience. Still and silent, it's several moments before they even realize that Sans is gesturing them over.

Their stomach is in knots as they settle down cross-legged next to Sans, wanting to lean against his side as they would when star-gazing back home but not daring to here. Their heart is still thumping, and Frisk scrubs at their eyes to try and dry their tears. It's hard at first, to try and decide where to start, but...maybe the beginning is the best. Sans wanted to know all of it, and...they don't have anything to hide behind anymore. He's already said as much.

"I...I woke up in the Ruins. That's always where it starts. I wake up, and Flowey is there. He talks to me, tries to--" Frisk's breath hitches for a moment, and they bite their lip. "He tries to hurt me, but Mom always shows up to scare him off. She guides me through the Ruins, an' I explore for a bit...she's always so scared when I have to leave. But...I have to go if I'm gonna free everyone."

They hadn't wanted to leave, that first time. Toriel is so kind, so patient, but the nagging feeling in the back of Frisk's mind had become so insistent. They had to move onward, press forward. They have a duty.

Staring dead ahead, Sans listened in silence. There were names that were both completely new to him, and yet so familiar all the same. Flowey? An echo flower, he found himself thinking distantly, for all his mind supplied an uncharacteristic yellow tint to those words. His confusion there didn't even begin to touch the whirlwind of conflicting emotions when Frisk mentioned a mother.

It didn't make any sense, but somehow, Sans knew they were referring to the woman behind the door. Sans felt his chest ache. Did she survive after all?

"Go on," he managed, voice even.

They sniffle, and nodding and wiping at their nose before continuing their story.

"Toriel...she tries to make me fight her. To prove I'm strong enough to make it through to the castle. It...it always takes a while, to make her back down again. An' then I leave, and...I meet you."

Frisk glances over shyly, both hands scrunched up in the fabric of their pants. "I...I'm not pretending to like Papyrus' puzzles, you know? They're really fun! And he worked so hard on all of them, too. You both...you always make me laugh. I don't know what I would have done if you both weren't there for me."

Edited 2016-02-04 05:20 (UTC)

Back down. It was so easy to read the worst into those words, and yet Sans found himself oddly trusting. The tone of voice, the way they so clearly were doing their best to make him comfortable, the praise of his brother -- it probably would seem calculated if the kid wasn't so damn earnest about it all.

"And then you free us, don't you?" Sans asked, though it wasn't really a question. He didn't remember it, but the pattern of this story felt as worn and well traveled as the path through Waterfall. "And then you bring us all back."

Edited 2016-02-04 05:53 (UTC)

Frisk's faintly dawning hope when Sans's speaks is quickly dashed, and they flinch and look down. Tears start to blur their vision again, and they shake their head hard enough to set their hair flapping about.

"I-it's not me! I don't want to do it over again, I want to stay! But it...s-something else RESETS it all. I try so hard to hold on, t-to keep us there, but..."

Fat, hot tears are rolling down their cheeks, and the sobs start in earnest. There's no possible way Sans will ever believe them, but they have to try! "B-but I can't! I'm trying, I'm trying so hard but I don't know what to do! I don't know what I'm doing wrong!"

Edited 2016-02-04 07:36 (UTC)

The tears caught Sans by surprise. In his ruined timeline, it was so easy to forget that the human laying waste to his entire culture was so young. It was only in the moments where Sans very nearly finished them (did finish them, more than once, for all he can't remember) that he was forced to swallow the reality of it being a child's body speared through with his magic.

The soft, hitching sobs were enough to bring that same realization back tenfold. Only instead of the cold lack of feeling, Sans found himself actually guilty. It wasn't pleasant.

"Hey, hey... take a breath." His voice was equal parts encouraging and awkward. Carefully, he put a bony hand to their back and rubbed in slow circles. They were trembling. "I don't think you're lying."

Frisk sobs and gulps for air, trying to get themself back under control enough to speak. But something snapped under the strain, between the weight of their memories, the timelines, their own guilt, Sans's accusations... Ironically enough, it's that bony hand attempting to comfort them that dissolves the last of their resistance.

Breaking down into a wailing cry, Frisk turns and grabs a hold of Sans's coat with the kind of desperation only a small child can really show. They cling on tightly, burying their face against it and crying out all their tired grief, the hurt and pain the cycle has heaped onto their small shoulders.

The push of Frisk's small body isn't what Sans expects, nor does he know how to react for the first few seconds. Reconciling the overwhelming dissonance of the child in front of him and the creature that killed him was one thing, but at his core Sans found himself at a loss for how to respond to such potent grief. Whatever was twisting Frisk up inside, it was practically tangible.

But the moment passed, and muscle memory kicked in. Drawing his other arm around the child, Sans held them close with a heaving sigh.

"It's gonna be okay, kiddo." He wasn't sure how much he believed it, but he found himself hoping it was true for Frisk's sake. For all of their sakes, really. "You're okay."

Edited 2016-02-06 20:25 (UTC)

Frisk's hold on Sans tightens by a tiny margin, sobs wracking their whole body and making them tremble in Sans's arms. A dim, small part of their mind not wrapped up in their misery clings to the comfort of those bony arms holding them close, not quite protective as they once had been but still sympathetic, caring.

Monsters really are weird, but it's the sort of weird that always saves Frisk when it comes down to it.

Their crying goes on for a while, but eventually sob turn to hiccups, then sniffles and finally a tired, quiet silence. By this point they've wormed themselves completely into Sans's lap, curled up in a tight ball. They feel drained, tired, but somehow a little better for having let it all out. After a few moments Frisk lifts their head to look up at him, not even sure what to say anymore.

At the very least, holding Frisk through the worst of their tears gave Sans time to think. Something about this felt so familiar to him, in a way that hurt more than it helped.

If he closed his eyes and really gave himself over to the sensation, his mind even began to supply context. They weren't on the floor of a ship millions of miles from home, but rather in a house under the stars -- real stars. And while Sans rubbed their back through a nightmare, it was with a reminder that the worst was over now. They were safe, and it was all thanks to Frisk.

Of course, the flash of memory was gone before Sans could appreciate it. Looking back down at the curled up child in his lap, Sans rose to his feet -- child and all. They were easy to carry, especially with their arms looped around his neck like a particularly stubborn limpet.

"C'mon, kid. Let's get you back to bed." His voice was soft, bouncing around the large observatory with each word. "What deck are you on?"

Finally Frisk smiles again, though it's a tired and weary one. This, this is how it's supposed to be. And even with what they've admitted, with Sans knowing it's their fault that everything keeps going back...

They close their eyes and lean their cheek against Sans's shoulder, snuggling close and relaxing completely in his hold. "'M on Nomo deck...um, number 5." Their lips quick up a little further with a conspiratorial pride. "I got a top bunk."

"Hey, whaddya know, that's where I'm at. Way down the other end of the hall."

With Frisk snuggled close like this and his mind already buzzing, Sans opted to take the long way for once. Feet clicking through the long mostly sleepy hallways, what surprised him most was how natural this felt. Sure, he'd looked out for his brother since Pap was a baby bone, but Sans was a kid then too. This felt different, and yet somehow drawn from the same place. The kid felt like family, and yet all Sans could see when he looked at him was the creature from that long hallway.

It didn't sit well with him.

"Here we are," Sans muttered finally, creaking the door open. Frisk's weight around his neck remained steady as he shifted the child from one arm to the other. "You still with me, bud?"

They make a quiet sound in response, pleased and relieved to hear that Sans is so close by. They don't often wake up in the middle of the night, but knowing there's someone around they can find easily when they do is a comforting thought.

Frisk is starting to drift off when Sans speaks up again, making them mumble and blink their eyes open again. They shift a little, waiting to either be carried in or let down to get into bed themself. (Or maybe Sans will float them in, they like it when he does that.) "...mm-hmm."

That was enough answer (or non-answer) for Sans. Scaling the ladder with a small child balanced on your hipbone was hard enough without inexperience added to the mix. At least these bunks weren't unbearably high, or else he might have some real trouble.

Depositing Frisk gently-ish into bed, there was a half second of tug for him to do... something. Say goodnight, tuck them in, check for humans under the bed, any number of things he used to do for Papyrus when he was small. It was a weird impulse, and one Sans dismissed quickly. They may have reached an understanding, but he was nowhere near ready to start treating this kid like family.

No matter how deep the sensation of it ran.

Heaving a sigh, he climbed back down the ladder. Kids, timelines, alternate futures, alternate pasts... he had a lot to think about.

Better sleep on it.

Frisk clambers into their bed with Sans's help, pulling the covers back over themself and giving Sans a sleepy, content smile before he disappears down the ladder again. They don't begrudge Sans the lack of a parting word or story--after so long they've gotten pretty good at reading that grinning face of his, and they can tell he's still very troubled. But before the door closes completely, they mumble one last thing before drifting off.

"...love you, Sans."

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( february intro log )

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this kills the man

i can't

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