thisavrou_log | January Intro Log

January Intro Log

Who: New arrivals and old residents
When: January 5 and beyond
Where: Avagi
What: Hello, nice to meet you
Warnings: Label where applicable.

Arrival

A shiver of light, a sense of falling, and Avagi's portals have claimed another traveller. For those first stepping out of the Ingress Memorial, Avagi may be rather disorienting, but some areas are quite lively, and there are plenty of places to explore. As newcomers make their way into their new home, they'll encounter new acquaintances and a few pitfalls.

Last month's time distortions have settled... for the most part. The strange flickering light atop the Ingress Memorial's central fragment lingers, though, pulsing and shifting in strange, hypnotic patterns. Left to their own devices, a character may stand in place for over a day, entirely unaware of their surroundings or the passage of time. They can be snapped out of the daze... with effort. And in most cases, touch.
Over the last few months, Avagi's sudden population has done a good job breaking in old living spaces. Unfortunately, after a century of disrepair, some of those systems have been quietly breaking down. Today? It's the plumbing. The Bar, Bartering Block, and several of the Labs are rapidly imitating a swamp. The Gym has acquired a new pool, and Sanitation is mostly underwater. Residents of the Chemistry and 🙀 housing sectors may need to start putting up sandbags—or bailing their rooms dry.

Whether to lend a hand or loot their neighbors, someone's going to need to (dive) get to the bottom of all this. The water spillage is mostly clean, but if conditions persist, that won't last long.
While a few (aquatic) species of the local mini-dinos are enjoying the new swimming space just fine, their more feathery compatriots have rapidly gone from bedraggled to soaked... and heading towards hypothermic. The recent spate of exterminations has them warier than usual of humanoid life, but less hostile (or more oblivious) station-dwellers may find a small flock trying to get dry in front of their space heaters—or any sources of potential warmth.

[Welcome to Thisavrou! If you haven't already, we encourage you to check out the OOC intro and calendar for January. Oldbies, please also make sure you've glanced through the activity check. A mod update will be going up soon with information on what's coming up, but if there are any questions in the interim, feel free to use the activity check comment.]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[WATER FUN LAND. Wait this isn't water fun land?]

Ordinarily when someone is kidnapped and dumped in a foreign place without so much as a by-your-leave, indignation and anger or even fear are perfectly warranted and probably Capella had been feeling these too. Up until she blundered into the flooded sections. While this is obviously a Problem to others, she can't currently tell this isn't SUPPOSED to be this way, and water doesn't bother her at all when it isn't chock full of isomorphic viruses.

So through the flooded wings splashes a new arrival; those already used to the various programs here might well recognize the bold glowing circutry markings as placing her among their number, though hers are vividly green instead of the more common blue, edged in obvious decorational bits in tiny lines of glowing gold. It creates interesting reflections in the water, and her progress through it is enthusiastically aimless.

Anything and everything that gets too close is probably going to get splashed in the process.

[From Games Contender to Heat Rock]

About an hour ago, Capella had found a dryer spot to settle on and work on figuring out where she was.

About three minutes after that she got accosted by a small pack of wet, feathery little .. things she had no name for, and one of the damn things actually bit her.

Two minutes after that the soggy flock had apparently come to the decision that voxels weren't food and she was inedible, but came with the bonus perk of being nice and warm.

There is, somewhere amongst the storage units of the bartering block, a small heap of now-mostly-dry feathery minisaurs, dozing contentedly. Bits and pieces of an obviously humanoid shape can be seen under the lump, aided by the glowy green lines that can be seen between small bodies. The quiet, put upon sigh suggests whoever that is is perfectly fine and just ... not going anywhere any time soon.

"....Sssooo... I have places to be, little things."

Even the voice is muffled, but all she gets for this commentary is a sleepy peep or two.

[Wildcard: Got another idea?]

Labs
[The entire station is unfamiliar territory for Jughead. On his search to explore his unwilling new home he finds his last step ending in a splash, shin deep into the lab's halls. He lifts his foot slowly with a frustrated groan.]

Great.

[His shoes are water-logged and his socks soaked. Rather than turning around he rolls his pant legs up and sloshes onward, determined to force his way through. The hall goes somewhere, and he's yet to find a place to get food.

Some people lost their appetite in times of chaos and stress. Jughead's just grew. It could have ended there, an irritable teen sloshing through half a foot of water to get through the labs, until a handful of tiny aquatic dinosaurs made an appearance.

Jughead freezes, staring at the curious creatures advancing on him, and immediately flashbacks to a pack of flesh-eating compies from a certain dinosaur movie series involving clever velociraptors, a sneaky Dilophosaurus, and a very persistent T-Rex start playing in the back of his mind.

Without further hesitation he sprints for the nearest lab door, letting a flood of water into the previously sealed room before slamming the door shut behind him.]

Bartering Block

[Hours later Jughead, his pants soaked to just above his knees, his white tank top confusingly drenched from the top to mid torso. His leather jacket is folded and resting with his messenger bag beside him on the table and he's still dripping from his hair onto the saylent blue blocks piled in front of him.

He has spent the last fifteen minutes attempting to decide whether of not the food is worth the risk. Ultimately his bottomless stomach wins out and he unwraps a nutrient block to bite a piece off, staring at the rest of it as he chews. Unsettling as the parallels are, it doesn't taste that bad.]

Eat your heart out, Fleischer.

[Like most of Avagi’s little disasters, the flood does not give the courtesy of prior warning. One moment, it’s just another day on the station. The next, people on Calla’s floor have already begun to move their things to higher ground, spurred on by word of flooding in other residential sectors. Calla’s only real possessions are his pack of cards from the Gardens and the (ugh) knife he’d found tucked between the mattress and the headboard of his bed. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t still things to be saved from the encroaching waters—namely, the belongings of one former roommate.

Calla has enough sense of propriety to feel quite awkward handling most of it—none of it actually belongs to him and many of the items are of a… personal nature but it would be far worse to let them be ruined by questionably sanitary water.

Which is how Calla ends up in the dry sanctuary of the library, keeping watch over a neatly organized collection of dubious objects, including: several dresses, a few sets of lingerie, some suspiciously unmarked pillboxes and baggies, and an impressive assemblage of high end beauty products and perfumes.

If anyone approaches and Creators forbid, ask if the items belong to him, he’ll give them a pained look.]

I’m holding them for somebody.

→ 🅞🅑🅢🅔🅡🅥🅐🅣🅘🅞🅝 🅢🅣🅐🅣🅘🅞🅝

[ The swirls of gasses move like ink in water, twisting and whirling in on themselves, obscuring most of the stars in the sky. The ones that were visible are unfamiliar, no matter how deeply he peered not only with his eyes.

Kylo Ren stands at parade rest, the lights of the storm nebula casting his visage in blue and red as he stands as still as a statue to anyone who may pass. His eyes close, and he reaches out, exhaling slowly through his nose as he focuses on the connection between things, the minutia, the soft shift of dust in the air, the force. He feels as though he's drifting like that dust, detached without the anchor of his Supreme Leader to keep him still.

He can hear the music of the storm, the rolling lows and sparkling highs, the brightness and the darkness of it all, so foreign and at the same time... all the same. It calms him, the constant torment of his soul still flashing hot like a grease fire over what he had so recently committed, the need to go crawling back begging for forgiveness for what he's done. Instead he focuses on the darkness, centering himself again, letting the edges of blinding light fade back out of his mind's eye. He could handle this. There was no choice but to keep moving forward. ]

→ 🅤🅝🅒🅞🅜🅕🅞🅡🅣🅐🅑🅛🅔 🅜🅔🅞🅦

[ A room assignment is along the more comfortable things he's seen since his arrival, with his face still aching with it's barely patched wound and his side still leaching blood into the bandages wrapped around it and nary a medbot in sight. With all the status that being the Supreme Leader's apprentice brought him, his living arrangements had always been...meager.

But at least it had never been under water.

The heavy wools and synthetics that Kylo Ren wore did not interact with water well, weighing down his boots and shoulders and arms with every movement, stoking that ever present fury up as he finds a small raised section of the residential block that only held water up to his ankles. Muttering a stream of curses he drags his cowl off his shoulders, letting it hit the ground with a heavy splash. His hair hung in wet curls around his face, having had the unfortunate luck of stepping right into a deep patch while following the directions to his assigned location. His boots had dragged him straight down, fully submerged down a service hatch that had been left open before he could even shout in surprise.

His shirt hangs heavily on his shoulders, streaming water from the seams as he undoes it with a tucked chin and gritted teeth, tossing it ontop of the floating cloak. The under shirt follows, before he gathers all the heavy wet fabric in one hand and lobs it at a wall with all his strength, yelling in frustration through the swing and release. Unfortunately, the unpleasant SPLAT! the impact makes far less satisfying than he had hoped, and he stands there half dressed as the rest of his clothing drops back into the water as if to spite him.]

→ 🅦🅘🅛🅓🅒🅐🅡🅓

[ ooc: Prompt me at your own risk! Kylo Ren should be considered armed and overemotional! ]

Edited 2018-01-06 02:04 (UTC)

[ It had been the middle of the night when Steve arrived — what he's told is night according to the clocks on the station, anyway, since God knows the view out the windows doesn't help — but he hadn't slept even after stumbling upon Bucky and following him to claim a room nearby for the foreseeable future. Even if sleep didn't tend to elude him more often than not at the best of times, it'd been day in Wakanda, and he's never had jet lag quite like this before.

So, like he'd done with the areas of T'challa's home where he'd been given free reign over the last couple days of recent memory, Steve wandered in a deliberate sort of way, making a map in his own head to match the one on his new wristwatch. For all that he's aware space travel isn't just a thing of science fiction anymore, he can't say he's ever had the pleasure — or felt like it was something he was missing. There's always been plenty of trouble right at home to be getting on with.

Some of which has followed him here — or more like he's followed it, like he's always done, if usually with more intent — and he can't pretend he's not grateful for the excuse not to seek out his friends right away. Take a few hours to wrap his head around it. But Steve's nothing if not adaptable, so when he comes across the flooding it's as good a way as any to put off the moment even as it seems the station is waking around him, emerging from their rooms into flooded corridors.

Before long, he's got sandbags in both hands, held like they're no heavier than sacks of potatoes, helping to stop up as many of the gaps as he can and unconcerned with the livid bruises visible on his face from whichever side he's approached. If your own hands happen to be empty he may even offer a suggestion. ]

Wanna grab a bucket?

( ooc: feel free to run into steve anywhere on the station during his wanderings, if meeting knee deep in flooding doesn't tickle your fancy. )

Edited 2018-01-06 02:18 (UTC)

(Eddie might not have lived long enough to see Mad Max come into production, but his little ensemble might as well be straight from it. The boy's fashioned boots out of what looks a bit like tarp wrapped up and secure to a pair of oversized work boots, maybe? The tarp goes all the way up as far as they could go on his tiny legs, under which he's wearing jeans, and he's got a thick sweater on with the hood up. He's got a tattered sorta looking bag slung over his shoulder, and resting against the opposite shoulder is a baseball bat.

There's a bit of padding taped up to his elbows, but at least the kid isn't wearing some metal strainer for a helmet. If the pipes are bursting, he's paranoid that parts of the ship might start falling apart too. He wants to be careful.

That and there's dinosaurs everywhere. Eddie doesn't attack them because he doesn't have the heart too, but he learns pretty quickly that gently pushing them away with the bat is fine enough.

He's just coming out of a well flooded lab of his own when he hears a door bang shut and looks up to see none other than Jughead. He freezes, and then opens his mouth, as if to say one thing.

But then he looks slowly over Jughead before his eyes land on his feet. Eddie's face goes a little pale and he swings the bat around to point it directly at those feet.)

You're gonna get trench foot walking around in just plain old shoes! Do you want to die of hypothermia? Because this is precisely how you die of hypothermia.

[Clara's meaning to track down all her students to ensure they're alright. She's moving through the residential block quickly, looking like a displeased wet cat as she tries to keep the splashing to a minimum. Her boots and tights are off, leaving her barefoot and in a little dress that thankfully isn't soaking wet. All things considered, she's doing pretty well for herself despite the circumstances.

It's the wet splat sound that gets her to slide to a stop and look down the corridor. Her eyes go wide as she sees him standing there, half dressed and injured. She realizes he's just hurled his clothing at the wall in anger, and something about knowing he's capable of moments like it trigger even more foggy memories that she'd rather not deal with right now.

It would be so easy to tease him, but she doesn't. She really doesn't need a fight right now. Instead she tiptoes through the water and crouches so she can try picking up his discarded clothes. They're surprisingly heavy, which makes her curse under her breath. It takes every ounce of her strength not to completely stare at his body. But she can't help stealing a shameless peek as she glances up his direction.]

I may have some things in my room that'll fit you. Like bandages. And a shirt...if you wanted a dry one.

[Rey likes water. Really, she does. It had never rained on Jakku, and nearly the entire water supply had been controlled by Unkar Plutt. So the free access to it that had come on the Moira, then Thisavrou, and now the Avagi station--she is usually pleased to see it.

But when things begin to flood, she realizes that water is not quite what she's made it out to be in her mind.

She grumbles as she walks down the corridor of the residential blocks, feet squelching in her shoes with each step. They need all hands on deck to fix the leaks, and she isn't exempt from that, much to her chagrin. She's left BB-9 in her room, determined to keep the little astromech away from the water as much as possible. She isn't about to lose her droid, not on a space station of all places.

The cat block is the last one for her to visit, and by the time she gets there, she is a soggy, cranky mess. If she wasn't so determined to keep this space station from floating dead in space, she would have given up hours ago. But here she is, bag of tools held above her head as she slogs through thigh-high water to find the source of the leak.

Rey hears a splat from around the corner, and hopes to whatever gods might be real that there isn't some kind of rathtar-like creature up ahead. Cursing under her breath, she holds the bag up with one hand and reaches for her lightsaber with the other, fingers hovering just above the hilt in case she needs to draw it.

When she rounds the corner, brows furrowed, feet stomping through the watery mess, clothes soaked through, she expects a monster, but not this one. Seeing Kylo Ren there, shirtless and fuming, is so against everything she had expected that all she can do for a solid three seconds is stare, incredulous.

And then the word comes, dripping with all the malcontent in her body, accusatory and aghast at the same time.]

You?!

Edited 2018-01-06 03:15 (UTC)

[Themyscira may have been a "paradise island," but that didn't mean it was free from the dangers of mother nature. Flooding wasn't common, but it had happened enough during her millennia of life for her to know what to do. So, The Amazon dons her least cumbersome dress, leaves her sandals and shield in her room (though she keeps the lasso at her side), and wades out into the rising water.

Her first stop is the food stores, making sure they're kept dry and secure against the small dinosaur creatures that freely roam the station. Nutrition blocks might not be appetizing, but until the crops in the greenery reach maturity, that's the majority of what they have.

The bar and labs follow--the former because it holds a sentimental value, and the latter because she knows that several residents have ongoing projects that they'd be livid to lose. It's impossible for her to secure it all, but Amazons are nothing if not steadfast, and Diana perhaps more so than her sisters. The hour is late, and she should be asleep--but there is simply too much to do. And too much that would plague her dreams should she actually lie down. Being dragged into her own memory and glimpsing the future had taken its toll on her, though she would never let it show. For now, she thinks, it is best to distract herself with protecting the few assets this station has.

So it is that she comes upon the bruised man packing sandbags against the walls. She watches him for a brief moment, noting his determination, before he addresses her.

Diana offers the slightest smile, holding her hands up with palms skyward.]

I did not bring one, unfortunately. But I can help with that.

[And, as easily as him, she hefts two sandbags, one in each arm, striding through the water as if it isn't there to join him. She casts a critical eye on the wall in front of them, searching for the cracks.]

Is this wall the worst?

[Goodness, he looks awful. Very attractive, obviously, but like he's been through hell. Clara's also in the process of attempting to carry sandbags. She's not anywhere near as muscular as he is (she's taken enough time to stop and look him over and appreciate the fact that he is) but she's still attempting to lug one cradled in both arms. ]

Mind if I tag along with you? You look ready to do the heavy lifting.

[She's really struggling to keep what she's got in her arms, so she offers him a sheepish smile as she takes to leading the way. The area she's been working to build a sandbag wall isn't too far up ahead. Together, she's sure they'll make good progress.]

Steve? What happened to you?

[No 'hello,' no 'it's good to see you,' no 'when did you get here.' Because if anyone was going to show up looking like they just took one hell of a beating before anything dangerous actually happened on Avagi, it would be Steve Rogers.

Ignore the fact that Wanda's standing on a thin platform of scarlet energy several inches above the water or that it flickers for the briefest of seconds in her shock. Or even that her hair is several shades darker than it was the last time he saw her. That's not important right now.]

[ It's the girl from the maze, and the moment she goes for his clothing he steps forward, almost glad to have an actual target for his annoyance.]

I do not need you doing my laundry, old woman.

[ He closes the distance and leans over her, close enough that his breath can be felt as he speaks through his teeth, snatching the heavy bundle with one hand. The water splashes both of them, streaming from every hanging bit of of fabric. If Clara wasn't wet before, she certainly was now. ]

[Oh, so he's going to keep calling her that. She's just about to open her mouth and retort when he acts like an overgrown child, managing to get her wet in the process. She gasps at how chilly it is when it hits her, eyes instantly burning with anger.]

What in the hell is wrong with you?

[She hisses out the words, looking very much like a little angry pomeranian shaking after being tossed in an ice bath.]

Do you have something against dry shirts? Or is it just because I'm offering that you're acting like a child?

[She kicks at the water and sends it flying toward him. He's an idiot that doesn't deserve to have such a nice chest to look at.]

[ He senses her barely a second before she rounds the corner, and he turns with an equally startled look on his split open face, throwing one leg out as his hand goes right for his light saber as well. He hadn't anticipated running into her here, had been too busy distracted by his own misfortune and pain to seek her out. ]

YOU!

[ A thousand thoughts and plots run through his head in half a second, before he does the only thing that makes sense. He throws out the other hand, teeth gritted and eyes wide, in an attempt to hold her in place like he once did when they first met. ]

Don't move.

[The absurdity of this situation is almost beyond comprehension. How had she not noticed him before? The honest answer is probably because she hadn't been searching for him either. It had been so long since she'd last seen him that even after being thrown into one of her worst memories of him just weeks ago, she had still considered his arrival an impossibility.

She's gotten sloppy, soft.

Rey regrets it immediately as she feels the Force wrap around her body, trying to hold her in place as he'd done before. But this time, she's more prepared. Rey fights back, feels the power around her body and tries to turn it back on him, just as she'd done on the Finalizer. A deep breath, in and out, and she gathers up the Force before shoving it back at him. She's been training with Charles for a while now, not to mention Luke and Anakin. She has no idea if it will actually work, but she hopes it will at least give her enough leeway to draw her saber and ignite it while he's caught off guard.]

laboratories / observation station;

[ There’s a light breeze aboard Avagi today. Gusts of air travel to and fro through its corridors, from a cluster of pint-sized robots through gardens and halls, but for every unusual draft, its source always remains just out of sight. Cautious. Searching. He could search faster if he threw caution to the wind, and he knows that, feels it in the beat of his feet across the deck with every too-long second, but there are so many humans here, and so many risks.

In one of the labs a white-haired figure can be seen moving skittishly through the rows, checking station after station after station. (Don’t be here, don’t be here, be anywhere but here—) Pietro walks at a pace just barely within the realm of brisk, but it isn’t exertion that makes his breath come quick and light, nor simple clumsiness that sends him bumping into one of the cabinets, sending a cascade of plastic bottles tumbling out onto the floor. He mutters something sharp in Transian under his breath and reaches after them, scrambling to at least— what, roll them under another cabinet, get them out of sight, something before he gets out of there.

It’s only when he reaches the observation station, when he steps out beneath that arch of open sky to a cosmic storm raging overhead, that his worn-out trainers finally come to a halt.

It’s incredible. It’s bigger and more powerful than anything he’s ever seen, and he has seen a few incredible things in his admittedly short and untraveled life. It’s space, like he’s Yuri Gagarin being announced over the radio. It’s— ]

Still a cage, then, [ he accuses the forcefield, clipped. ]

[ And still no sign of Wanda. ]

bartering block;

[ Having recieved what he considers more satisfactory assurance that his sister is not currently on board (at least, not the sister he grew up with), a little of the urgency has faded from Pietro's steps -- but that doesn't do a thing for his patience. Whether or not there is anything to find, he's in unfamiliar territory, and that warrants exploration. Swift exploration.

So he's going about eighty kilometers per hour when his trainers hit the bartering block's newest lake. Water builds up beneath his feet, traction becomes a distant memory, but this is hardly the first time he's hit a puddle; he could probably run across the Atlantic Ocean if he could just get the angle right--

Which is when one of what he'd assumed to be a cluster of spiney rocks lifts its tiny, sharp-toothed head directly in his path. And shrieks.

The metal frame of the shop stall makes a similar sound as Pietro swerves directly into that instead.

Ow. ]

roommate roulette;

[ On the other hand, walking is fine. Walking is great.

It is the best way to avoid drawing any more ill-advised attention to himself, too, which is important for his next task: finding a place to sleep. If he really is stuck on this station, some degree of settling in is unfortunately necessary. Most of the accommodations seem to be makeshift at best, and at worst ill-suited to the spaces, but Pietro is no stranger to making do. Nor to close quarters.

Except, as it happens, this unit is already occupied. ]

My apologies, [ he says as soon as he spots the stranger, ducking his head and keeping close to the entryway on instinct. ] I did not intend to intrude.

I would seem like a child to someone of your age.

[He spits the words at her, only to wince when he tweaks the wound at his side, his jaw working the pain away with a grimace. The heat leaves his expression as quickly as it came, and he holds the cloth out from his side, his lip curling up as he looks down at her.]

How do you think you'll benefit from following me around like a stray dog?

((continued from here!))

[She has no idea how to answer that question, because it's not as simple as it used to be. Her Pietro's been missing for months, but she's never been 'alone' here, has never been without some family member from one world or another for more than a few weeks.]

There are other people from our worlds. The Avengers, the X-Men... [Erik, but she is not going to drop that potential bombshell on him on top of all the others, especially since the last might be the most disturbing.]

...and you, from one of the other versions of our world.

I wasn't following you!

[She shouts, her voice echoing down the corridor. Her temper runs hot, and it quickly explodes with his pushing her buttons. She wants to reach out and shove him, but he's essentially a wall compared to her and she knows she won't get him to budge. So instead her hands ball up into fists and she just barely resists taking a swing at him.]

I was looking for my students, and you just so happened to be here. You're an idiot, if you're injured like that and not accepting dry bandages.

[Unlike most of Avagi's current residents, Capella had been having a good old time as things flooded. She had no real idea of what it meant, lacking context as to what it's doing to everyone's stuff and the whole mess with Sanitation. All she knows is that some places are soggy, some places are NOT, some people are upset, some aren't, and she...

...Well she's wandered around the wet bits already, it's time to find somewhere dry. Which leads her eventually to the library simply through time and process of elimination. The only reason Calla draws any attention at all is the dresses. They looked.. rather fancy, and not like the outfits she knew.

The person guarding them is second, but only after a moment, and for a solid three or four seconds she stays where she is, admiring the vinelike traceries of light. Now that is a fancy pattern, and really puts to shame all the work she'd put into imitating Argon City's two-toned high fashion.]

Okay.

[The assortment of objects, clearly. She's not overly curious about them anymore, because there's an entirely new pattern of circuitry to be in awe of.]

.. I have to know, did you design that yourself?

[She sounds and looks enthusiastic about the question, raising a hand to gesture at the left side of her face - clearly meaning his own. No reproach, just sudden super keen interest.]

[INGRESS MEMORIAL]
[There is still much about this place that Padmé is trying to learn. She has gained some footing since her arrival, and as such has found out some rather strange information from different sources. She can't state that she is entirely certain what to make of it all, and still seeks to process some of it through. Some, she realizes, she might never learn, given that the root of the material has left.

For a Senator, there is a certain disconnect. Not that she is unaware of what is happening around her, but for so long she has served her planet and the Galactic Republic, that even a month does not sweep all of that away. She has never been someone to sit idly by, which is why she does move around, striving to understand more.

Usually, anyway.

Her path has taken her back to the Ingress Memorial, remembering her first look upon it. How far she has come in a month, and yet at the same time, how little she has moved. She finds her gaze shifting upward, thoughtful, contemplative, until she does seem to lose track of all time. Her hand remains, poised, touching her lower lip, the other wrapped around her stomach. How long she is there, she doesn't know, but perhaps it isn't your first trip by the Memorial to see her in the same position...]

[WATER SPILLAGE]
[She is more than aware of some of the work that does need to be done, and has seen the beams all but drop in front of her feet in the initial days of her arrival. She will thank whatever force there is that no one had been hurt during those times. In fact, she had even witnessed some interesting methods of clean-up by something that was similar to the Force, but not.

While she might indeed give of the impression of a refined young lady, Padmé has never had any qualms about getting right in to the fray. It is how she has found herself down by the water, helping in whatever say she can. She isn't exactly the most handy, which is why she is aiding with the sand bags. The last thing, it seems to her, that they need is for the water to spread. It is why she is more than happy to help.

Her clothes by now are soaked at the bottom, her hair a mass of wild curls that seem to be barely restrained by the clip that holds it. But she continues on, helping move the bags one at a time. Carefully, mind, as the water certainly doesn't make it very easy to move around in. Coming up with another, she does ask.]

Where would you like this one?

[MINI-DINOS]
[Later, when she has spent most of the day aiding with the sandbags, Padmé has started to make her way back to get a change of clothes and something to eat. Not that she gets very far. Even in such times, she can take a moment, soft laughter as she brushes away wayward strands of hair, to watch the little creatures joyfully splash around in the water. She doesn't get too close, not knowing what they are, but she can admire them for a time.

She doesn't fail to note some near the heater a bit later.]

Do you think they are alright? The seem to have the right idea, warming up, but I'm not familiar enough with them to know if they need something more.

I don't know, Harrison might want to get in on that. [Elizabeth is sloshing through the room and happens to overhear the comment-- and she'd thought the same thing when they'd originally discovered that the only source of food was a questionable block of 'nutrition'. But, nobody's mysteriously disappeared so--]

You opening up a shop? [She asks, nodding to the pile he has next to him while she helps herself to two out of the general stockpile, tucking one into an empty slot in her shoulder holster. The other one holds, quite obviously, an old looking revolver.]

[Elizabeth likes this place. It might seem strange that she'd find stars and endless space a comfort, given she's more of a clouds-and-sky type of person, but maybe it's the absence of anything that lets her mind rest for a moment. She looks out there and sees... nothing, usually. And for someone who could see so much, it's definitely a rest.]

[But when she heads inside, there's far from nothing in there-- she's actually surprised to see that there's someone in there while everyone is rushing around over the water and swimming dinosaurs.]

[She stands there for a moment, wondering if she's going to stick around and try to rest, or if she just can't when someone else is there. Maybe she can't either way-- the view is just too... turbulent.]

It's a lot clearer, some days. Not as... chaotic.

Edited 2018-01-19 23:06 (UTC)

i. bee movie but every time they say "bee" chara almost drowns

[Who has two thumbs, about six knives, and doesn't know how to swim?]

[This. This kid. This kid right here.]

[That does not, however, mean that they're not going to be a little prick about it, because Chara is nothing if not adept at being a little prick about most things. Mostly, it means that they've taken care to strip their bed of all blankets, heap their PacDisc upon the mattress from their cramped cot space, and set to paddling their way into the halls.]

[It takes about ten minutes for this plan to go awry.]

[Mattresses, unbeknownst to Chara, do not float for very long. They soak up water like sponges, and rapidly begin to sink.]

[Chara, too, begins to sink, and they do so with a fury - kicking, struggling, trying to seize at the water-slick sides of the hallways of Avagi in an attempt to stay afloat while the water laps at their chin and sticks their sweater to their skin.]

[They don't call for help. They don't. They know what that gets them.]

[But they'll drown, if they don't.]

ii. i'd say they're back on their bullshit but lbr they were never off it

Near-drowning aside, Chara's self-proclaimed indifference to and celebration of the drowning and distress of any and all living creatures apparently does not quite come into practice. They've managed to venture back into the worst of the flooded areas with a sturdier, much more buoyant makeshift raft than a mattress, some lightweight piece of indistinct material that seems to have been part of a wall or some other structure before being abandoned to time and wear and tear.

So now this absolute gremlin of a child will paddle swiftly through the swampy mess, their red eyes sharp and sweeping from side to side until they settle upon someone who looks as though they may need some help finding their way to dry land.

And so they will ask, apropos of nothing, without so much as a hi, how are you?, firing the words sharply at whoever may look like they need it:

"Can you swim?"

[ It's been a full month since she's arrived on the Avagi, a full month since she's had to look about the abandoned markets and the sparsely-stocked medical bay. But a month has been more than enough for her to become acquainted with most of central corridors of the station, from the halls that lead to the where most gather to eat to the panoramic windows of the observation deck. And a month is also more than enough for her to become acquainted with a few bots of her own. In fact, there are two medbots she's happened to reboot and repair over the course of the month with some help, and they follow her like sheep right at her ankles. They might not be fully operational as true assistants as she would like, but she's taking a liking to them if only because they are projects to improve with which she can currently distract herself, seeing as no one recently actually needs a doctor.

Currently they buzz and blip as they move, and when their programmer finally comes to an abrupt halt they bump into each other, lights blinking startled. As for Naomi, her brows raise instantly she lays eye on the man that happens to be walking down the same hallway she is.

Well holy shit, he's got quite a gash on his face, and what looks like to be blood saturating through the fabric at his side. And sorely. ] You're injured. [ She states, concern clear in her voice as she approaches. But, of course, there is also the need to consider that this man is a stranger, and an injured one at that. She doesn't wish to startle him... or impose. And so she asks as she walks towards him: ]

Do you wish for assistance? I am a physician. [ A surgeon, to be precise. ]

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January Intro Log

Capella | OTA

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Calla | Library | OTA

Kylo Ren → OTA

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Labs

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the greatest discomfort

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pietro maximoff | marvel comics | OTA + TDM continuations welcome

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Padmé Amidala | Star Wars

Bartering Block

Observation

chara dreemurr | ota, will match whatever format

Wildcard