Who: Anyone and Everyone
When: February 10-19
Where: Avagi
What: Life support fails, and a team sets out. Check out
this ooc post for more.
Warnings: Label your content.
Synce their arrival, Avagi's residents have been plagued by minor system failures. Faulty taskbots and infested crawlspaces, supply shortages and the floods last month. For the most part, they've coped admirably, and quality of life aboard the station is substantially improved from what it was. But even as the damage in the lived-in space is scrubbed away, more dangerous poisons have been building underneath.
On February 10, the groaning from the walls will escalate to a harsh scraping, audible station-wide. Then silence falls as the filtration systems die completely: leaving all vents to begin spewing thick, black smoke.
|
| System Failures | |
| (February 10-19) | |
Acrid and hazardous, the cocktail of gases emerging from the vents are the result of three centuries' toxin storage spilling over. A shallow breath can cause a coughing fit, but individuals who draw in too much of the toxic air will find themselves becoming dizzy, passing out, or worse. While effects may vary based on individual biology, all beings who require breath will find their lungs burning and their vision blurred. An hour after the initial failure, the lighting goes out too. With it, all station power: to computers, doors, and any system not hooked up to its own supply.
Investigation:
The electrical failures can be sourced to an automated safety shutoff, override-able from Life Support's main controls. But the mechanism isn't in place without a reason. Generating station power produces more of the dark fumes, and without working filters, they will pump straight into the air.
Wait in the dark (and growing cold), or suffocate more quickly? Either way, your air troubles won't be resolved quickly. Over the next couple days, groups searching Sanitation can track down the vapors to their source. A small mob of taskbots run sad circles in the filtration hub: between the air processing units and a row of shelves along one wall. The label reads Purification Crystals, and a single empty container remains. Survival (Home Team):
Without the crystals, there is no effective way of restoring the entire living space. It may, however, be possible to section off small areas. Able bodies will be required to seal off the fumes and guide those suffering from their effects to safety. Many may need medical assistance, and technical skills will be in even more desperate need: to equip these regions with oxygen and power, and insulate them against the cold that leeches in from the outside.
Some amount of work has already been done, and a few safe rooms are prepped across the station. As days progress toward weeks, however, their air and power reserves will run thin, and some larger sectors may warrant securing regardless. The Greenery contains young plants that are susceptible to the fumes, and those invested in the library's book collection may also want to take measures. The gas has acidic qualities in higher concentrations, enough to eat through paper... for a start.
Contain it? Remove it? Or just try to protect yourselves? One way or another, you'll need to hold out for a while.
|
| Travel (Away Team) | |
| (February 12-19) | |
When Avagi's current population first got here, it was clear that others had inhabited the space before. Recent developments have even proven that these others—or, perhaps, their descendants—might still exist elsewhere on the station now. With the crystals that might repair your home missing, diplomacy is no longer an optional consideration. It's time to meet the neighbors, and hope they come in peace.Navigation:
Those volunteering to undertake this mission will be provided with a patchwork set of maps. However, these contain little to no information on the current state of the station—including which parts still exist. The explosion that tore apart the former Ingress Complex left wide gaps in the structure, many of which have been invaded by the storms outside.
Scanning tech will be required to assess what lies behind the sealed walls, and physical labor to cut through them. As no contiguous paths across the station remain, this process will need to be repeated numerous times. Where no adjoining regions can be verified intact, smaller scouting tools (or group members!) may be required to traverse crawlspaces for a view of nearby rooms. Survival:
Behind the first wall lies a pressurized room with normal gravity—and contaminated air. This will not persist as the travelers continue. Some regions have power, but no gravity. Others contain pockets of unaffected, still-clean air. Few spaces will be fully online before the travelers get there, but local generators can be found that might allow for a night or two of "comfortable" camping. At least one juncture can only be crossed by floating through an empty docking bay. The area contains no power, air, or gravity, but spacesuits can be procured... inside the sealed vacuum of the bay. Creative thinking may be required.
Enveloping the station's outside, the roiling shadows of Avagi's storms have crept invasively into all unsealed regions of the interior. While the Observation Station may have accustomed some Avagians to the view, there's something much more immediate about the shadows pressing at the other side of these windows. The faint patterns of light that ripple through the clouds prompt a sense of malice and exhaustion, one that lingers even when you've turned away. Those who attempt more intense scrutiny may suffer more severe effects.
Certainly, it feels like something is watching back. Discoveries:
As harrowing as the journey may be, it's not entirely without its gains. A few tools can be salvaged from some of the decks visited along the way, and while food is in much shorter supply, there are a few signs that it might not have been, long ago. Wrappers and empty cans turn up in strange places. A few glyphs can be found scratched into one wall: ones that your ACE's translators roughly interpret as prayers.
One sealed room has a large "X" scrawled across the walls despite the detectable presence of power, air, and gravity. Opening it produces a strange sight: two skeletal corpses pressed up against the still-active force field that cuts this room off from the storms. Both bodies show extensive burns to hands and faces, but don't appear to have died from that effect. |
[For questions, signups, or plotting, check out the ooc post. For the duration of this log, characters may travel between teams to whatever extent they are capable. The event will escalate with a second log on February 20.] ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
savmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2018-02-10 04:46 pm
no subject
[Because he'd been absolutely prepared to go. He'd been about to slip the visor all the way down on his helmet. Sealing himself in. Sealing the vacuum of space out. Exactly what Diana was not doing, by jumping into the emptiness all by herself.]
[He doesn't waste his time shouting. Not after that initial call of her name.]
[Purple sparks to life, and he shoves his hand into the closing door. The right hand. The one the door can't stand up to. Shoving it open to leap after her. Get her back. Get her back, and then go for the suits.]
[Shoving off the floor gives plenty of momentum -- with no air or gravity to slow you down. If he can loop his arms under hers, the armor should have enough in its jets to get her back.]
Behind you!
no subject
Her arms are heavy, her chest burns. But she refuses to give up. She is Diana of Themyscira, daughter of Queen Hippolyta and Zeus, King of the Gods. She should be strong enough to do this. In the back of her mind, she hears a familiar voice; Antiope's, she thinks. It tells her to go on, to push herself. That she's stronger than she thinks, even now.
So great is her concentration that she doesn't notice someone behind her until she feels arms wrapping around her. Diana's head whips around, her hair floating in an ethereal halo around her head. She sees a familiar helmet, and she opens her mouth to ask Shiro what he's doing, why he's interrupted her.
This is a mistake.
She feels her throat dry up, and everything becomes entirely blurry instead of just mildly so. She tries to gasp, but nothing comes out or goes in. She feels the muscles in her arms convulse as she tries to keep her grip on the lasso; the rope, as if sensing her physical distress, loses its grip on the pole and falls from its place, floating slack in the airless chamber.]
no subject
[His arms tighten around her shoulders, securing her. There's not much time. He's just got to kick the jets on. Get momentum and go back the way they'd come -- back to oxygen. The door is going to be a problem.]
I got you -- I got you, don't worry.
[He doesn't even know if she can hear him, there's no sound in a vacuum and she doesn't have a helmet, but the urgent litany of words doesn't hesitate. It's going to be all right, it has to be all right. They're not losing anyone else.]
[His back hits the opposite wall, hits the door.]
[One arm, his right arm, loosens its grip, grasping for the door with glowing fingers. Making a handhold where there was none. Fingers walking across the surface until he can jam them into the seal. And pull. The armor's jets firing in counterpoint. One arm around her, the other wrenching the door open enough to push her through.]
[Falling beside her as the door closes. Trying to check her pulse.]
no subject
It is terrifying.
Vaguely, she realizes he's talking to her. But her ears feel muffled, and her grip on the Lasso is loose. It trails after them limply, its glow dying as her focus on it wanes. She notices that the spacesuits, her goal, are getting further and further away. Though she should be fighting to reach them, Diana can only bring herself to raise one arm, weakly reaching out as if she could still grasp them. As if she could still succeed.
Antiope's voice has gone from a whisper to a dull roar. Get up, Diana! But she can't. She has no strength. Her muscles scream, her body shakes. Get up! Even once they're safely back where there's oxygen to breathe, she cannot get up. No, more than that - she cannot breathe.
Get up.
An order, one she cannot follow.
Never in her life has Diana thought she couldn't do something - until now. She wants to say it, wants to voice her failure. But when her lips move, no words escape. Her entire body is so heavy, and she doesn't fight to keep her eyes open - she can't see anything, anyway. Her pulse is a bare flutter, her heart trying desperately to transport oxygen that just isn't there.
All she knows is darkness.]
no subject
[He tears off his helmet, letting it fall to the ground without thinking. She's cold -- it's easy to tell even through armor and metal. She's cold and she's not breathing, but she's alive. For now. She won't be if something isn't done. There should be safety measures in place, there should be oxygen bags or pumps or something else. But there isn't.]
[Someone else might know what to do better than he could. Everything he's ever tried to live up to would be better, here. Their hands more sure, more steady. But they're not here.]
[He is.]
[He's tilting her head back, vague memories of drills and practices back on earth in his mind. One hand to close her nose off, the other to brace them both.]
[It's not the same as walking in on her swimming, or getting tongue tied in her presence. If he doesn't do something, there's going to be one more face, one more name on a list of people he couldn't save. So this time, there's no hesitation when he seals his mouth to hers.]
[She's so cold.]
[Count, breathe. Try to remember where to press her ribs to stir her heart to life. Repeat. And again until his face is slick and sweaty, until his own breath is gasped out and his human arm is shaking.]
[Don't stop.]
[Don't lose anyone else.]
[Please...]
no subject
The death of a village of innocent people. And the loss of the person who had touched her heart in a way she'd only ever read about in stories. Ares, her own brother, had told her that men were ugly and full of hatred, and she'd known it to be true. But he had failed to see the good in them, and it had been his undoing.
But perhaps her love for them was to be hers.
She lies prone, at first unresponsive to Shiro's efforts. With skin waxy and body still, she doesn't quite look real. Diana is not too far gone, just slow to come back. The pull of her dream Themyscira is strong, and Antiope's voice urging her to get up had faded once more to a bare whisper. But eventually, after perhaps too long, the numbness she'd been enveloped in is broken by a burning in her chest as her lugs and heart begin to work again beneath his compressions.
All at once, her senses return. The Amazon gasps into his mouth, fighting for air, eyes flashing open before closing again as she gulps down greedy breaths. Everything comes rushing back, accompanied by a tremble that overtakes her entire body. But she is alive, coaxed back from the edge of death, and she doesn't know how.
Someone is above her, and she reaches out with shaking hands, feeling for them as she opens her eyes again, trying to focus her vision.]
no subject
[It's the same, now.]
[Take over the fight. Breathe for her. Make her heart move for her. No matter what it takes out of him. Not even the breath to whisper urgent pleas for her to listen, to come back. All of it for her. Given over to bring her back.]
[Maybe it's selfish to try so hard -- just because he can't lose anyone else.]
[Take care of your father]
[And then, suddenly, she's moving. He tries to push himself back, to give her some space, but his limbs don't listen very well. They sort of flop, and he falls on his backside, panting. Until her hands reach out.]
Hey -- hey, it's me. It's Shiro. You're safe.
[He takes her hands without thought, squeezing tightly. Ground her. Remind her she's here.]
Can you breathe with me? Can you breathe, Diana?
no subject
Shiro...?
[Her voice is hardly a whisper, and she tires not to think about how weak she sounds. In the back of her mind, she feels she should be angry with him for interrupting her mission. She still believes, even now, that she could have succeeded if left to focus on her task. But the larger part of her knows that is a foolish thought. Had he not come for her, she would surely be dead.
The thoughts float around her mind as she continues to reach out, hands searching for his face as she tries to match his breathing. Another point of contact, another way to reassure herself that this isn't the afterlife, that she'd made it out of the airless chamber alive. Her eyelids flutter, vision slow to return. The pain in her chest has yet to subside, and she groans as she shifts her legs, trying to sit up and failing. Slowly, her labored breaths begin to ease.]
no subject
[Talking her through it. Demonstrating for her. Slowly breathing in and out. His eyes locked on hers. She needs to save her breath. Save the speech for when she's able to breathe on her own. Keeps his hands on hers.]
[Breathe in. Out. Slowly and steadily. It belatedly dawns on him he should probably do more, here. So he takes one of her hands, presses it to the chestplate of his armor. It's not skin-to-skin. But it should be enough to feel the inhale-exhale.]
Slowly. You can do this. Stay with me, and breathe.
[He only really moves when she tries to. His other hand going to her legs, to stop them. She shouldn't be moving around yet. Not if she's not steady enough.]
Don't get up. Just stay here -- I've got you.
no subject
In, out. In, out. She matches his breathing, slowly, her heartbeat returning to a normal rhythm, her lungs filling with blessed air.
Finally, Diana is able to focus her gaze on him, and the worry on his face hurts her more than the lack of oxygen had. She wants to be angry with him, to push him away and go back to the empty chamber--but something stops her, and it takes her a moment to figure out what it is.
Fear has gripped her insides, making her feel sick at the very thought of returning to that room and the possibility of a silent death.
Diana curls her fingers slightly into his chestplate, not really gripping it as she sits up, heedless of his protests. She only makes it partway, but she doesn't have the heart right now to push herself too far, as she normally might. Her arms are still shaking, one supporting her and the other still pressed against his chest. Everything aches, and she wants nothing more but to lie back down, but she can't let Shiro see her so weak. Not again. It isn't fair to him.
Her eyes search his face, uncertain what they're really looking for, and her voice is still quiet, but she pushes the words out anyway.]
Thank you.
no subject
It's okay. You're okay.
[Again and again. Seriously and gently. Even if it's not okay, now, it will be. Because she's alive. They made it back. It will be okay.]
[Then she's sitting up. His eyes widen for a second, reaching for her shoulders. Trying to steady her further. She really shouldn't be moving. He'd learned enough about oxygen deprivation, about what happened to a body in the vacuum of space - when you dropped the body out into nothing into the stars - to know that much. She clearly needs to, for some reason, and all he can do is support her.]
Easy... take it easy. We don't have to move yet.
[Her eyes are very dark. Deep. Very hard to look away from. He has to swallow a little, when she speaks.] Hey. Defender of the universe... couldn't... just leave you there.
no subject
They do not deserve you.
His grip steadies her, though her body still shivers as her blood tries to catch up with the sudden influx of air. She doesn't look away from him, though the edge of her vision is still blurry. Words, important words, are just on the tip of her tongue, and she parts her lips as she searches for them, but isn't immediately able to articulate. Her hand moves up from his chestplate, fingers making a shaky path towards his face. Gently, skin brushes skin, and she finally finds the words. It's an echo of when he found her in the forest on Kaittos, when she had first showed him the weakest part of her, but it is as true now as it was then.]
You are a good man, Shiro.
[Sometimes, she doesn't think she deserves them, either.]
no subject
[He'd be honored to hear she felt that way.]
[And unsure of what to make of it.]
[He's about to pull her in close, to hold onto her so she gets some body heat. Armor traps it all inside, but it's bound to be warmer than her just lying there, shivering. He shifts his weight, trying to chafe some warmth back into her arms. Only to stop, when her fingers touch his face. The pads of them soft against the roughened edges of the scar.]
[Once again, he has to swallow. Staring back at her like she's something precious. Like he can't believe she's real and touching his face so carefully.]
Diana... it... anyone would have done the same.
[It's nothing and it's not. And he can't bring himself to say it out loud, not when she's looking at him like that.]
no subject
But men, especially the men in Steve's time, had such a nuanced society that it had been difficult for her, at times, to keep up. Steve had been a spy, but was also a good man. He'd wanted so badly to end the war, but had been ready to abandon the people of Veld. He'd loved her, but he'd sacrificed himself so she could continue fighting.
I can save today. You can save the world.
Something catches in her throat, and she feels suddenly overwhelmed as she sits up, moving the hand that had been supporting her weight to his shoulder. Never before had her gods-given mission felt like too much, but this failure made it seem so. She exhales slowly, her head dipping and body sagging forward as she takes in the full force of how badly she had misstepped. If Shiro hadn't been here, she could very well be dead right now. Her mission would mean nothing. Steve's death would mean nothing.
When she finally responds, her voice is a thick whisper.]
No, not anyone.
[Only a good man, someone who couldn't help but be filled with a reckless selflessness, whose actions were ever directed outward. She looks up again, cupping his cheek and ghosting her thumb on the outskirts of his scar. Though they look nothing alike, she sees Steve in his eyes--or maybe it's just the common humanity that runs through all men, whether or not they embrace it. Shiro shines with it, and she is struck with a mix of love and pain. She knows this light, and also how easily it can be snuffed out. She wants nothing more than to protect it, protect him.]
no subject
[To say the least. There's a lot more to it than that, but she doesn't need to hear it now. She needs to rest. This stopped being about him, about any action he took, the second she started breathing again. No -- more like the second she stepped into that unsealed room.]
[Then it wasn't about him at all.]
[She was the one who mattered, in that moment. Not him. It doesn't make sense to him why she's looking at him like this. Why she's so insistent he'd done something great. All he'd done was what someone in his position should do. And got lucky. If she'd been in there just a heartbeat longer...]
[... then she'd be another name on the list. Someone else he couldn't save. Couldn't defend. Despite the weight and supposed strength of everything in him, all the titles he had to hold up. He doesn't know if he could have done that, and taken her loss, too.]
Anyone with a spacesuit.
[But the words trail off. His arms moving to catch her. To support her when she slumps. They're around her when she starts Looking at him again. Touching his face. His scar. His words dry up. Wondering, distantly, what she's looking at. If she's seeing something else.]
[You're only human, she'd told him. And he'd wanted to be. Badly.]
[... could he have gotten her back, if he were?]
[He wants to look back at her, wants to keep reassuring her, but his eyes avert. He shakes his head, and tries to ignore how, even chilled and stiff, her fingers feel soft on scarred skin.] We should get you somewhere warmer.
no subject
He looks away, and his avoidance tugs at her heart. Diana shifts closer, wanting to tell him so many things: that he doesn't give himself enough credit, that he's a true credit to his people, that he had undoubtedly saved her life.
But she's already said all of this to him countless times, and is finally beginning to realize that words are not the way to get through to him. After these long minutes of disorientation, her mind is finally beginning to clear, and she makes a decision.
Her thumb continues its path back and forth across his cheek, a gentle touch, a quiet reminder. As she leans closer, she wishes he would look at her again, but doesn't wait for him to. Diana doesn't hesitate before pressing her lips against his, a ghost of a kiss, but one she hopes will finally relay to him that she doesn't say things she doesn't mean. That is not the Amazon way.
Then it's over, she's pulled back, not too far but enough to give him room to breathe.
There's the slightest hint of pink to her cheeks, but it might be because her blood is finally flowing correctly again.]
I would like that. Thank you, Shiro.
no subject
[He trusts her. Deeply. But it's more than that.]
[He's started to move. To help her to her feet, if she needs it. But her expression is lightening. She looks better. Maybe she won't need the help -- he's got to offer it, regardless. He knows that.]
[And... yet he can't move. Her fingers touch his face. The harsh line drawn across it. His eyes flick up as she leans in, ready to catch her, to support her. Whatever she needs him to do. He's here for her. Ready for nearly anything she needs.]
[Almost anything.]
[It's not something burning, something hot and urgent. It's quiet, it's careful. Something given over so gently, he doesn't realize he's relaxed against it. Leaned ever so slightly back with a need for contact he didn't know he wanted until now. It barely lasts a moment. But it pulls something from him. Makes him chase after it, if only for that same length of a second.]
[When he finds his voice, it's a little choked. And he can't say why.]
No... I -- thank you.
[What for, he doesn't really know. Some nameless ache starting to ease.]
no subject
But this one is measured, soft, and entirely intentional. Given from a place in her heart she hasn't thought of in a long time.
The ache is still present in her limbs, but it isn't nearly as prevalent as it had been just minutes ago. She smiles, gentle and affectionate, and draws her thumb once more across his cheek before moving it to his shoulder. Her heart tells her to kiss him again, but her mind scolds her for wanting as much. She does not want to push too much, and presses the selfish part of herself down. For now.
She squeezes his shoulders gently, slowly making to stand. Her voice is gentle, and there's an undertone of something in her words, as if she's disappointed that she's saying this at all.]
We should move.
no subject
[There's nothing in his brain, for those few heartbeats, except for that kiss.]
[It's a good, soft few moments, in the middle of everything breaking down around them. He chases her for a few moments longer, follows her lips. But -- but it's not the time. Even if when he opens his eyes again, they're a little clouded. Looking at her and only her.]
... we need to. You... should get some rest.
[He has to swallow around the words. To make them come out.]
I'll... go back for the suit. Don't worry.
[You'll be okay, I've got you, he wants to say. But the mission is more important here. Isn't it? More important than what he wants.]