thisavrou_log | A Spacemas Carol: December's Mod Event Log

A Spacemas Carol: December's Mod Event Log

Who: Anyone and Everyone
When: December 19 onwards
Where: Avagi... and beyond?
What: Your past, someone's present, and potential futures.
Warnings: Body horror and an associated image in the second part. Otherwise, label your content.

While the Ingress may have been destroyed, the energy powering it remains alive and well. The residents of Avagi know this intimately: from their own arrivals, from the portals that have appeared, and the short-lived changes (as well as longer-lived possessions) that have cluttered the station over the last few months. Recently, whatever force is manipulating this has even gone so far as to revive the dead—demonstrating, perhaps, an unwillingness to relinquish those it has brought to this place.

To say this entity is seasonal would probably be a mistake. In the heart of Avagi's storms, there are no stars to mark the seasons, much less connect them to a certain planet's holidays—or the literature thereon. Still, from luck or from intention, the current fluctuations comes with a certain theme...

Past

It starts at the turn of the station clock's midnight. Flickers at the edge of one's vision. Indistinct whispers, ghosting through walls and down corridors. Those who are sleeping will be untroubled, but the wakeful and wary can watch the light build: from flickers to pulses, from pulses to pools. Over several hours, silver mist fills rooms and corridors, varying from a thin veil to dense, obscuring fog. If you step into the mist, you'll feel a sense of displacement; of sound and color, energy and a shift of life. Ingress travel.

Except... not quite.

Shortly after entering the mist, you'll find yourself free of disorientation and apparently free of physical form, unable to interact with your surroundings. As a quasi-ghost, you've been transported to somewhere and somewhen—a location from the past, back on a world of someone’s origin or from any place you've been since first arriving through the Ingress. While these experiences can vary wildly, some things remain consistent:

The past matters: These visits to the past are not repeats of idle afternoons—each has emotional significance to someone currently on Avagi.
The past cannot be changed: As real as any given scenario seems, you're fundamentally incapable of altering it. The past event will play out as it did in real life and dissipate when it reaches an ending.
Trying has consequences: Attempting too hard to interfere increases the emotional significance, and will consequently draw onlookers further into the scene. You may find yourself anchored to any participant in the scene: first physically (experiencing the scene through their eyes) and then emotionally (experiencing their emotions and thoughts). If drawn in too deeply, you may lose track of your own nature during the experience, drowning in the sense of being someone else..
You are not alone: While immersed in a scene, you'll see nothing but the history playing out. However, at the its conclusion, the fog will once again displace the world around. As it melts away, you'll find themselves back in Avagi's halls—and face to face with whoever else was also viewing that piece of the past.

Present

Whether through one memory or several, eventually, the fog disperses. Only a faint mist remains, gathered in corners of the station's halls. It's simple enough to avoid, and nothing obstructs efforts to return to your rooms, your friends, or any other destination. Nothing, that is, except finding them.

The layout of the halls has shifted. The clutter you so painstakingly cleared is back. The GPS on your ACE mistakenly reports that you are floating off in space far outside the station, and any efforts to locate or call your companions results in glitchy static. Something is interfering with your calls—more effectively than the distance between worlds.

Inference and intuition are all you have to put together the pieces. The layout has changed, but the construction stayed the same. You're still on the former Ingress station. But not the same area that you called home. This is a different section of Avagi.

An inhabited one.

Dank, warm air pulses in and out of the vents in odd rhythms. Water damage stains the walls, and some seep dark liquid. There's an odd symphony in the distance: four notes, hummed to a pattern that buzzes in the back of your head. It's possible to wait it out. But if you do explore, you might come across your friends. And together, you might find the source.

Further in, a wall of flesh fills the pathways, rising and falling with intermittent, massive draws of air. A fluid wash of features glues it to the bulkheads. Claws and eyes, hands and faces: half-made bodies shifting in and out of recognition with each pulse of breath. And always with the same gold glow beneath the skin. It's a familiar shade, to those who witnessed Thisavrou's destruction.

It's the being who destroyed it.

Those who flee will escape her notice. Those who wait may watch in secret for a time. Mother's focus seems to be elsewhere...or, perhaps, something else is hiding your presence here from her.

Any attack on Mother's flesh shape, or any overt effort to draw her attention, will meet violent, immediate reprisal. You'll experience an immobilizing psychic force before the flesh consumes you. But whether you hide or fight or run, your time on this section of the station will end in the same way: a burst of brilliant, clear light providing transport back home.

Future

You flash back to reality amidst a burst of light—but this time, you recognize your surroundings. You have returned to the Avagi you know, and the silver mist that filled the halls has cleared.

Over the next few days, most of Avagi will settle back into a state of normalcy. The ACEs are working properly, and station residents will have all the time they need to compare notes on their experiences—and, perhaps, on any plans to act on what they've learned.

Avagi is not as empty as it seemed. And one place in particular will remain changed in the wake of the event. The Ingress Memorial, once inactive, has come to life, emitting a swirl of silver light that shifts and flickers, like the light of the portal it once contained. For the next five days, it will offer a vision to anyone approaching it: a single, brief scene from their potential future.

Players have the following options:

Canon future: Your character catches a glimpse of their future if they were to return from Avagi to their own world. This consists of a canon event.
Avagi future: Your character catches a glimpse of their own future on Avagi. This can be a short-term future (i.e. an actual vision of a future scene you plan to play out), or a potential longer-term one in which they stayed on Avagi for months or years.
Storm future: Your character catches a glimpse of themselves as a Mirtos—a desiccated husk and incarnation of the storm's hunger. As seen in Thisavrou's destruction, these creatures are carried by the storms and destroy all they come across.

The visions can observed by any present when the Memorial is approached. And while the past is fixed, the future is always capable of being altered. What will you do regarding yours?

[OOC: Check out the OOC post for more information!]

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[It's cold. You feel it through the suit, the sky above dazzling with more stars than ever seen through Earth or its atmosphere. A field of ice stretching further than you can see. It's beautiful, staggering. Someone is laughing. The voice familiar -- your friend, your companion for this journey -- his father with you, your idol, your hero.]

[The purple light shines out of the sky, a ship blotting out the stars. You're grabbing their hands, pulling them out of the way, trying to run. And what was exciting, proud, safe, is now shattering under your feet.]

[When you wake up, you're on your knees. You're a prisoner now, you're told. You are yelling, you're pleading -- we're just a science team, you try and tell them, as if that's going to make a difference. It doesn't. You're taken. You're dragged by these things, these beings, into a war you never even knew existed.]

[Your friend is there. He's smaller than you are. More vulnerable. You're both terrified but you do everything you can for him. To keep him safe -- he has people to go home to. He has everything to go home to. You're the pilot, you're the one who was supposed to keep them safe to begin with. And every waking moment is an exercise in making it so. From whispering encouragement, to shoving him behind you. Stripped of everything, of clothing of freedom, even humanity, sometimes you think he's the only reason you keep forging on.]

[I'm gonna die, he's saying. When you're both dragged before the arena doors. I'm never gonna get home, I'm never gonna see Mom or Katie -- I'm gonna die.]

[Because despite everything you've done, they chose him.]

[They want him to fight their champion. These creatures, and their casual cruelty, want to watch him die.]

[Your legs move. Your hands throw him to the ground. Grabbing a guard's weapon before anyone can react. You cut him, you wound him, and hear him cry out, while you scream and twist your face into something inhuman. Tackling him again. Holding him down. Praying, hoping... that he knows why you had to do it.]

[Take care of your father, is the last thing you say to him. The last time you see his face, it's when they pull you away from him.]

[The next thing you see are the blinding lights of the arena.]

[You taste sand, smell alien blood soaking into it.]

[Stripped of everything now. Even the reason you had to go on.]

[It ends.]

[This is a side to war Diana has never experienced.

She had chosen war. Consciously, she had made the decision to leave Themyscira with Steve Trevor, to go with him to the Front, to throw herself into a battle that wasn't even hers in the first place. But Shiro and these men--these men he cared for so deeply--had been bystanders. Their mission had been a peaceful one, with no intent to draw attention to themselves or their planet.

This is not the first time she has seen how war could sweep up innocents in its path, but this is the first time she's actually felt it.

Their group i torn apart, their bonds tested and strained, but never broken. She sees him continue on for the sake of the younger man, keep him safe and do everything in his power to protect him. She feels the helplessness as the aliens call the smaller man to the arena.

The decision Shiro makes is the one she would have made herself, and the pain and regret he feels is mirrored in her heart.

When the memory finally sets them free, Diana cannot keep her footing. She falls to one knee, both hands on the ground to keep her upright as she gasps for breath. Though she had not struggled against the vision, she feels as if she has fought a thousand battles without rest. She looks around, searching for him, reaching out blindly with a hand.]

Shiro...

[It's... a longer flashback than he's had in a while. And for once, he can't pull out of it. Just has to let it run its course. Breathe and it will pass. Right? Get through it and keep on going.]

[Try not to think... not to think about the abject horror on his friend's face the last time they'd seen each other. He's alive, he's got to tell himself. Pidge is going to find him. He's alive.]

[It's not until Diana calls out for him that he realizes, this isn't just a flashback. This is something else entirely. Something worse. His eyes open immediately, head snapping toward where he heard her voice. Cold clenches in his chest.]

[Oh no.]

Here! [And like nothing happened, he's taken a knee, reaching to grasp her hand, trying to help her up.] It's okay. You're all right. [Because clearly she needs the reassurance here, not him.]

Breathe, okay?

[His hand finds hers, and Diana grips it as if her life depends on it. But once she's on her feet, she reaches out to place her free hand on his shoulder, brows drawn together with pain and concern.]

Are you--Shiro, was that... [She can't finish the question, because she already knows the answer. Yes, that was him, that was his memory. He'd lived through all of that, had sacrificed himself in every way possible for his friend. For the first time, Diana pulls him in, moving to wrap her arms around him.]

You are so strong, Shiro.

You're okay. Just keep breathing... We can get--

[He stops when she speaks again, staring at her, blankly, though slowly starting to realize what it is she's saying. For a moment, he wonders why she'd said it. Why she would ask...?]

[It clicks. As she puts her arms around him, it clicks. As it had with Lena. As it had when he'd seen her past. It clicks and his heart twists up in his chest. He'd called her incredible. She'd denied it, because people had been lost.]

[His jaw works. And the hands that hesitantly hold her in return move more mechanically than they had before.]

I'm not... it -- just what had to be done.

[Someone stronger could have saved his friend right then and there. Wouldn't have left him.]

[Diana feels him stiffen in her arms, and realizes she has somehow made a misstep. The Amazon pulls away, searching his face--and she sees her own feelings reflected there. How she hadn't been good enough, how she'd let the people of Veld down. Seeing it all in Shiro's face makes her heart ache in a new way, and she worries her bottom lip as she tries to process this new feeling.

Closing her eyes briefly, she finally answers.]

And you did it. That's what is admirable. I don't know a single warrior on Themyscira who would think differently.

[That is as huge a compliment as she can give, with as little as she still knows about the world outside her island.]

[He wishes he had a better poker face for these situations. But he just doesn't. When she looks him in the eye, it's all there. It's written in the lines under his eyes, the white in his hair. The way he feels himself sag a little in her grip.]

[He's not strong. Someone strong would feel like they could do it. They could be the leader the others needed -- and keep themselves in balance, too. They wouldn't have to leave people behind.]

Think... maybe you could tattoo that on my face? So it gets through my head?

[Because he doesn't want to turn down the compliment. He's just at a loss.]

I'm sorry I -- it's been a long time since that's. Been so fresh.

[Diana holds him steady, refusing to let him go for now. He needs to know that she is there for him, a solid force he can rely on. Because she knows--she knows exactly how hard it is to be a leader. Telling someone that their life is worth something, that they need to follow you into the darkness... that is a burden she's carried, and will never be able to leave behind.

His joke brings a small, sad smile to her face.] Do not tempt me, Shiro. Amazons are trained in many crafts.

[A jest, of course. Diana is not a shallow person, but she would never mar his face like that. Well, not unless he was serious.]

I know. And I also know that it will never get any easier to remember.

[Breathe. He needs to breathe and stay steady. She's offering the shoulder -- part of him, the part that crumbled on Hunk's shoulder, that cracked on Angela's couch, wants to take it. Wants to fall apart. But he's seen her do the same now, hasn't he?]

[How can he do that, when he knows she's hurting, too?] Tell me... if you can do hair. Then we'll -- then we'll talk.

[Making himself sound steadier than he feels. For her sake. It almost works, until she says the next words. Until I also know that it will never get any easier to remember.]

[And his shoulders hunch.]

I've -- I forgot so much. Why not this?

[Before she can crack another joke about his hair, she feels him curl into himself. For a moment, she doesn't know what to do. Shiro has always been the picture of strength, even though she knows he always seems to fight something inside of himself. And now she can see it more clearly than ever. Her heart aches, and she does the only thing that seems right for now--she tugs him forward into her arms if he'll let her, one hand moving to cradle the back of his head.]

It's hard to forget the things that shape us, I think. The things that mean the most.

[I want to.]

[It's possibly the most cowardly thing he's ever thought. But there are days, there are nights, when he would love to forget. When he'd love to keep only the good memories, none of the bad. None of the nightmares, and all the wonder.]

[He hasn't felt this undone since Angela's house. Since he admitted things to Hunk he refused to do, otherwise. But he leans into her shoulder, gratefully, quietly.]

Sorry... I'm. Just a minute. [Just a second, he'll recover his stoicism.]

[Cowardice, she's been taught, is the absence of action. As long as someone tries to do something, whether or not they are successful, they are as far from a coward as a person could be. Still, she understands the way he feels; she'd been so scared during the war, even if she hadn't recognized it as such then. Scared that Steve and the others were right, that there was no Ares and mankind was simply too corrupted on its own. There had been a certain vindication in proving herself right, but also a bitterness knowing that it would not last.

Diana slowly slides the fingers of one hand through his hair, the other rubbing gentle circles on his back. Words had never quite seemed right when it came to comfort for her, and so physical expressions are all she has.]

Don't be sorry. It's alright. I'm here.

[Everyone is entitled to showing weakness now and then, as she well knows.]

Edited 2018-01-06 03:50 (UTC)

[But he has to apologize. Doesn't he? For cracking like this. He shouldn't. He never should. Always in control, they'd said. And now with the knowledge of everything he had to live up to. Around someone he knew he had to live up to. How is he supposed to find the time, the space, to break?]

[The memory feels like it's going to well up and drown him again. Twisting itself around his head until it wants to choke him. And his hands tighten on her shoulders. Out of reflex.]

I haven't... thought about that day in a long time...

[Is that wrong? Is it like forgetting?]

[His grip on her shoulders doesn't bother her--Amazons are thick-skinned, and Diana more than most. If that's what he needs, to ground himself to her, then she welcomes the pressure. Besides that, she doesn't think Shiro could hurt her if he tried. Perks of being a demigod, and all.

She makes gentle shushing sounds until he speaks again, and she falls silent to listen. He sounds... ashamed, perhaps. She can't imagine why. That's the human thing to do--push the pain down until it's all but disappeared. The only problem with that is that one day, it's bound to rear its head once more.]

It's one that causes you great pain. It's only human to try to bury it. [A beat, then gently:] You're only human, Shiro. [It isn't said as an insult, but a reminder. Even Diana, with all her physical gifts, is only human in many ways. It's a humbling thought.]

[He'd take a lot of comfort in knowing that. In knowing she, at least, is someone even his arm couldn't hurt. It's still a concern, even now. Even being here as long as he has, it gets to him, sometimes. Late at night, more than anything else.]

[Of course he's ashamed. Of course he feels like this is something he's done wrong. Matt was... was his friend and he left him. He left him and doesn't think about it as often as he probably should. Does he? Shouldn't it bother him more often?]

Only -- [You're only human.]

[What if I'm not?]

[His voice tightens. Drawing in shaking breaths.] I want to be.

[For a brief moment, Diana wonders if she's insulted him in some way. She's only stated a fact, something to remind him that he only has so much control. Her brows draw together, and her hand stills behind his head, cradling it as she tries to puzzle out what he means. As far as she knows, he is only human.]

Then you are.

[It doesn't seem hard to her. Amazons are a practical people, each playing to their own strength.]

Edited 2018-01-09 02:54 (UTC)

[Not insulted. Just... the sense of something held out, offered up without strings attached. Without judgment. If you want it, then you are. How could she know? How could she even guess how far out of reach it really is?]

[He can't tell her.]

[Not after all of this.]

[He just nods, instead, letting his head rest on her shoulder a while longer.]

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A Spacemas Carol: December's Mod Event Log

PAST | trauma | for Diana

thanks this made me hurt a lot

maui voice: you're welcome

i'm going to imagine the rest of this as a sad musical

time to play the sad music

thanks i hate it

sad fingerguns

shot through the heart

i give love a bad name

ouch

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