thisavrou_log | ( february intro log )

Entry tags:

( 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)! )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Maya raised an eyebrow. It was a bit comforting to know that she wasn't the only one dealing with this kriffing insanity. It didn't take her any closer to where she was supposed to be. But safety and numbers and something else that people said.

"I had a bladed weapon too," she said, breathing out the aromatic blue smoke from her nose. "They took it. Left me with my blaster, though."

Another drag, and she turned to offer the girl her cigarette.

"Blaster? Like, a gun?"

Who takes swords and boots and lipstick but lets people have guns? The cruel hand of fate and wonky portal technology, that's who.

Allison considers the offered cigarette. Common sense says that you probably shouldn't take unidentified drugs from strangers on weird spaceships. But Allison is the sort of person who takes unidentified liquor from demons, so common sense need not apply.

Gingerly taking the proffered cigarette, she takes a drag. Coughing out a few puffs of blue smoke, she passes it back. "What's in that anyway?"

She's had a couple goes at joints in her time, plus that one time she tried regular cigarettes, but this isn't quite like either pot or tobacco.

"Pickled rankweed," Maya replied, taking the cigarette back. "Give it a few minutes. You'll start to feel better."

Unfortunately, Maya had built up more of a tolerance to the rankweed than she wanted to admit. It would take more than a few minutes--possibly more than one cigarette--before she began to really mellow and dull the edge of the sharp emotions and thoughts flying at her from every direction.

To say nothing of her own.

She took another languid drag, figuring that the first step to feeling calm was pretending that she was calm. "I don't suppose you know what system we're in," she asked the girl.

"Huh," Allison says, relaxing back against the wall. Never heard of it, but sure sounds like space-pot.

But the woman was right, after a few minutes a sort of warm, fuzzy calm starts filling her brain, easing her frustrations. She actually laughs when Maya speaks again, though the sound isn't especially happy.

"Lady, I don't even know what universe we're in."

"I've been hearing a lot of that lately," Maya muttered.

It was a little hard for her to swallow. The galaxy itself was just so big. And she could accept that she'd somehow escaped the bonds of her own galaxy. But the universe?

She didn't have nearly enough education to even consider that scale.

"Apparently there's 777,777 of them," Allison says. Her eyes are slightly lidded now, and she's staring vaguely at a spot on the wall.

Then she glances over at Maya's cigarette and wonders if it's polite to ask for another go. She's not usually into recreational drugs - excepting alcohol - but these are kind of exceptional circumstances and after what she's been through lately she could use some relaxing.

She blinks, then holds out her hand. "I'm Allison, by the way."

You should probably at least know someone's name before you try bumming drugs off them.

Maya shook her head without much hesitation. She'd always had a stronger innate trust of women then of men. Of course, they could still stab her in the back, but you had to trust someone somewhere. "Maya," she said.

It was a rare treat to be able to use her real name. She always made something up for her customers. 'Gigi' was a personal favorite. And given the fact that she was currently on the run from Imperial forces, she'd concocted a variety of fake names.

There was the slim possibility that this was some kind of elaborate, Imperial trap. But her instincts told her it really wasn't. And she needed to trust her instincts.

"And 777,777 is a very specific number."

"Yeah, well, that's what the angel told me."

It suddenly occurs to her just how bizarre that is, and how she would have reacted if someone had been saying that to her just last week, and the next next thing Allison knows she's bursting out laughing. She slaps a hand over her mouth, but it still takes her a bit to stop the wild giggles.

"I'm sorry," she says, her eyes misty. "My life is just kind of a huge mess lately."

In all fairness, anyone who found themselves kidnapped onto this alien ship would be justified in saying that their life was a huge mess. But that didn't stop Maya's forehead from crinkling a little, halfway between incredulity and concern.

Angels? She'd heard the deep space pilots talk about them. They supposedly lived on the moons of Iego and were rumored to be the most beautiful creatures in the universe.

They were also probably a myth.

"You wanna elaborate on that one?"

Allison slowly slides down the wall to sit with her legs pulled up to her chest, hands cupping her knees.

"I just wanted to get laid," she starts, and what a way to start a story! "But then this weird guy appeared in my room, and the walls cracked open and a bunch of spiky guys riding monsters cut off his head and stole my boyfriend, and then he shoved this mystical bullshit into my head!"

She points dramatically at what looks like a white stone embedded in her forehead. It glows a bit as her voice rises, as if lit by an inner flame.

The stone hadn't held much interest for Maya before. She just figured it was a part of the girl's biology. After all, there were thousands of races native to her galaxy. She hadn't met them all. Probably not even a third.

Now she gave it an appraising look, a part of her wondering if the girl was insane.

Maybe she was a Night Sister? Maya had heard stories about them. And they liked words like 'mystical.'

"Well, that sounds...upsetting."

To be honest, part of Allison wonders if she's insane too, and this isn't all just in her head. Cracked under the stress of being a complete loser.

She gives another little laugh. 'Upsetting' was an understatement.

"Then I ended up in the center of the universes, and there were angels and devils and creepy sphinx guys, and everybody wanted to kill me for the thing in my head and now I can't go home..."

She sniffles slightly. "I thought at least I could save my boyfriend, but now I can't even do that."

Then she scrubs at her eyes and tries to smile, suddenly feeling embarrassed about breaking down in front of a stranger like this. "But how's your day?"

Maya slid down the side of the wall to sit beside Allison. Maybe she was completely nuts, but she was a girl who clearly needed a friend. Maya had a certain talent for picking up strays. Yuri and Kem. She was too much of a bleeding heart sometimes.

But what could she do?

"Probably not as bad as yours," she said, trying to sound kind. It didn't come naturally to her.

Allison sniffles again, but gives Maya her best grateful smile, awkward but genuine. It's actually really nice to get that all out to someone. Her friends had tried to comfort her during her brief stop at home, but they had no idea what was going on with her and she hadn't been about to tell them.

"I don't think anybody who's stuck on this chunk of metal hurtling through space is having an especially good day." She gives a little unhappy laugh, then curls her arms around her knees. "Sorry for spilling all that on you."

"No charge," Maya said, offering her the cigarette again.

She'd started her 'illustrious' career as a bartender. Normally, she didn't hear problems quite like this...but for some reason, people confided in her. It was a nice change, actually. Not listening to some Imperial officer complain about his nagging wife or whatever.

Still crazy but. Nice.

Different.

"I probably shouldn't," Allison says, accepting the cigarette and taking a deep drag. She doesn't cough this time, blowing out a cloud of blue smoke as she hands the cigarette back. She can worry about lung cancer and addictions some other time, for now she wants some more of that warm buzz.

"Thanks." For the cigarette, for listening, for keeping her company now. It's nice. Maya's nice.

Maya would have laughed, if Allison ever called her nice. She'd never really considered herself all that kind. She was just doing what everyone else in the galaxy had to do; look out for number one.

It was only very recently that she'd begun to unconsciously consider Yuri number one, instead of herself.

She didn't know what that was about.

Taking back her cigarette, she took a slow drag, letting out little, perfectly formed smoke rings. "So what are we supposed to do here?"

Sorry, Maya. You're being nice right now, you'll just have to accept it.

Allison watches the little smoke rings float away from Maya's lips, starting out impressed and becoming progressively more awed at her smoke-blowing skills at her buzz settles in.

"Work and hope we get home some day, I guess," she says, then pouts a little. "I'm supposed to be a barista."

"A barista?" Maya cut her eyes to one side, giving Allison a somewhat skeptical look. "What's a barista?"

They didn't really have Starbucks in a galaxy far, far away, after all. And as far as addictive substances went, Maya preferred alcohol. And her rank weed. And some spices too.

"Oh, um." Allison is kind of surprised at the question but then she probably shouldn't be. After all, she didn't know what rank weed was, so they're probably from pretty different places.

"Somebody who works at a coffee shop basically. I make drinks for people. Coffee, tea, hot chocolate... Italian soda lately, chilled version of all of the above... That sort of thing."

All right, then. She was a barkeep, of sorts. Even if Maya couldn't pick out anything alcoholic in the list (what was an Italian, she wondered). She nodded slightly, suddenly missing Cosimo from Corellia. She'd always stop by his shop first thing in the morning for a caffeine fix. He was good to her, despite her choice of profession.

And he'd always been good to Yuri.

Yuri...

"Well," she said, shaking off that thought, "I'll probably be in need of your services."

There'll probably lots of people with caffeine cravings in need of her services soon enough...

"Heh, I'll be happy to make you something, on the house." Actually, all drinks might be on the house anyway. Allison isn't sure what the state of currency is on the ship. It's the thought that counts? "As thanks for sharing your, uh, weed. And listening."

A thought suddenly occurs to her and she glances at Maya's bare foot. "Oh, um, do you need help getting a new shoe?"

Maya glanced down at her bare foot, a disgusted sneer curling her lip. "Probably," she said. "I've seen the standard issue boots they hand out here." She wasn't a fan. Both because it was ugly and because anything 'standard issue' was bad, in her book.

"Do you think they have a shoe store on this...thing?"

"Uh, shit. Probably not?" She was honestly going to recommend the uniform boots but...

Allison looks at Maya's bare foot, looks at her own feet, glances awkwardly down the hallway.

"I don't mind the boots they handed out, so if we're about the same size you can borrow my sneakers for a bit?" She rubs the back of her neck. "Until you get something better. It seems like it'd pretty uncomfortable to go barefoot on metal floors the whole time..."

The offer was more than a little surprising. But then, Maya wasn't used to kindness.

And she certainly hadn't been trying to manipulate a pair of shoes out of the deal. If that had been the case, she would have just planted the suggestion. The fact that it was genuine was...strangely touching.

This girl wouldn't last a kriffing second on Corellia.

She smiled slightly. "I don't even know what sneakers are," she admitted. "Which probably means you should hang onto them."

( february intro log )

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