(no subject)

[savmods]

Who: Anyone and everyone
When: March 6-16
Where: Namalos
What: A reprieve, for now

The light spreading through the battered interior of Avagi station comes with a sense of displacement. No longer a journey they can choose, residents will find themselves traveling somewhere—being sent, it seems, by an echoing voice that can be heard on the edge of consciousness. Whoever is directing you, and whatever their intent, one thing is clear. There is something—someone—they want you to find. The silver glow vanishes. Reality returns... if not as smoothly as before. The space around you seems to lurch and stutter, and you feel yourself stumbling against a wall—pressed, for a moment, under a vast and dispassionate regard. And then, this barrier dissolves. As they return to reality, Avagians will find themselves somewhere completely new: far from both the storms and the light that displaced them. No light. No portals. Around you, you may see your friends and allies—but nowhere is there any sign of a way back.

---

Namalos

This land is deceptively beautiful—and just as deadly. The thick forest spreads in all directions, filled with bioluminescent foliage that prevents true darkness from ever descending, but it holds few comforts. The temperature ranges from stiflingly hot during the day to frigid at night, and while there is little fauna to be found, the many insects that make a home here are hungry, aggressive—and often venomous. Even the more edible of the available plants come with a bitter taste and little nutrition. The wilderness may seem endless, but refuge can be found in half a day's walk to the north, where larger life signs may be detected—an oasis of sorts, in the form of a clearing large enough to hold a small city. They are not alone. Despite its untamed surroundings, the settlement of Namalos appears extremely civilized—even mundane. Unlike many worlds the travelers have encountered, it has a spaceport. Small crafts appear above the sky, descending below to trade with the locals. Perhaps because of this connection to other planets, Namalans appear to have no single native species, ranging from humanoid to tentacled to oddly reptilian. Although surprised by guests appearing from the land, not the sky, the Namalans will cautiously welcome the new arrivals, offering them temporary quarters in the outer ring of the city where interstellar travelers sometimes rest before embarking on a return trip. There are local scientists who will offer to look for any traces of portal energy in an attempt to see if a portal can be opened again. Still, getting back isn't the only goal some Avagians might have, and those who spend some effort searching may turn up unsettling facts.

Exploration

Life on Namalos is far more organized than any of Avagi's residents are likely to have experienced before. Despite the different species that call the world home, all locals depart their houses at the same time each morning and return at the same time in the afternoon. Traffic flows freely on pedestrian paths and roads, with no lights or overt signage, but no vehicles collide—as if all beings know their place. In the afternoon, children will appear in front of houses at the same time, play games, and return indoors for dinner like clockwork. If stopped, Namalans will politely answer questions asked of them before returning to routine. Within the city itself, the Avagians may note some places of interest: The Central Authority: The government building of Namalos is large and ostentatious, but extremely quiet within, with little noise but the soft sounds of data processing—and there is a great deal of that. No courts can be found, but this bureaucratic machine generates an enormous amount of paperwork. The Spaceport: This facility, located just outside the largest ring of the city, appears to facilitate trade with other worlds in this solar system—and possibly beyond. Passengers on the ships that come and go appear to be interested in commerce, not leisure visits, but will have no unkind words to say about the Namalans. Rarely will they venture into the city itself, and only for a short time if they do. The Wellness Center: This large complex near the city's inner ring serves as a place of self-improvement for all who wish to pursue it, free of charge. Physical fitness classes that consist of rhythmic, dance-like routines exist in place of standard gym workouts, and spaces for meditation and quiet chanting in an ancient local language are available to soothe the mind. Other spaces are marked for classes on rhetoric and group facilitation, but these are scheduled by appointment only. The Locked Building: The lack of crime or violence on Namalos means locked doors are rare, and Avagians may go where they please—with the exception of one utterly plain, undecorated building in the central ring of the city. Located in the shadow of the Central Authority, it is guarded every hour by pairs of Namalans who are no less pleasant for their refusal to let anyone pass. While some amount of leniency is shown to visitors, the Namalans find disruptions to their routine extremely grating. As strangers disrupt their streets and lives, Namalans grow cold to the prospect of indefinite guests. Those staying in the city for longer than three days will be asked to pay back the hospitality of their hosts, and assigned a task with which to do so. For children, this will consist of school attendance, but adult jobs can vary from stamping papers to mining ore. All complaints about the suitability of an assignment will be thoroughly disregarded, and little sympathy will be provided by your temporary coworkers to those unable to keep pace. While technically free to travel through the city, Avagians will find that no matter where they go, nearby Namalans keep watch. Their gazes are neither malevolent nor friendly, and can only be deterred through distance—though somehow, outside of the temporary quarters, they will find at least one local always in sight. Even more curiously, the longer they remain, and the more time they spend personally interacting with Namalans, the more absorbing they may find the local rhythms. Wake up, work, dine, sleep without deviation. They may even find themselves slipping out of awareness for brief intervals... but in such a peaceful place, is this really a bad thing?

---

[OOC: For more information, or to note particular disruptions your character might cause, please check out the OOC post here!]

Comments

[that_cost]

The forest, as pretty as it was, was also a nuisance to get through. Between the bugs that really didn't understand her desire to be left alone, thank you very much, and her cat kept running off to chase them. Obviously, Bubble was followed by her two dino brothers, and Charlie kept having to chase them to keep them nearby.

She finally gave up and stuffed them into her messenger bag with a frown, and a choice word or two about how ill-behaved they were acting.

But the reality of it was she was nervous about this new location. Everything was unusual and that made it unsettling. So she was very prone to keeping the people and that which she loved very close.

When she arrives at the city, the look of it makes her stop walking pretty quick. There was cookie-cutter, and then there was this place. So it's with caution and hesitance that she makes her way towards the buildings, her eyebrows furrowed.

This wasn't quite what she was expecting to see, coming out of the forest like that.

Every house looks the same. Every single one.

"I don't like this," Charlie says to herself as she walks on, hoping to run into someone familiar. That would help her situation a little bit.

[aka_pistachio]

Kelly Ann is grateful for Pino's harness, and still mad that thinking about it made her think about Peter and then she starts missing him again so she focuses on just getting out of this dumb forest.

And it is dumb. It looks like a blacklight poster some pothead thought was really cool. And it's full of bugs. And those shiny plants burn and after her arms are pretty covered in welts she stops poking at things. She's ready to declare it the worst planet they've been on yet when she finally breaks through the treeline and sees the same suburban development that Charlie sees.

"Oh no. Fuck this."

Kelly Ann shakes her head and picks up Pino, cuddling him protectively.

"Do you think anybody lives here or is this like, post consumerism zombie apocalypse or something."

[sketchycharacter]

The whole Avagi crew isn't exactly a merry bunch of friends—not all of them, anyway—but they've had each other's backs for months now. Funny how the desire to survive can do that. It prompts Nate to keep an eye on those he knows better than others as they emerge from the light and make their way toward something like civilization—and those he worries aren't necessarily equipped to handle serious danger if it should arrive.

So of course they don't find any of that. It's just another city. Just another...oddly creepy...city.

"Not exactly my idea of a vacation town either," he says, coming up beside Charlie. "But hey, no one's shooting at us for trespassing. Silver lining?"

[feellikeshowingoff]

"Yeah." John had his own concerns about this sort of place. Firstly, it made him itch. It was like the first thing he wanted to do, knee-jerk response to all of this uniformity, is throw a rock through a window or like someone's flowers on fire.

He doesn't, but he wants to.

"It's like Glenn Close didn't get her ass handed to her at the end of Stepford Wives and skipped off to wreak havoc on another planet."

Erik OTA (+1 closed)

[magneticfields]

Lord, I no longer believe The Forest (OTA)

[ Erik is nowhere. He feels nothing. It is not rest. It is not boredom. It is not isolation. It is nothing. He is nothing. He is nowhere. He hovers in this limbic lack of state, awaiting resurrection and judgment.

Until he is in the forest.

He is alone. Aside from the swarms of biting flies. He starts to walk, already perspiring through his sweater. He tries to think. The last he remembers is bringing oats back to Avagi with Flynn. Is he somehow back on Alcoran? He reaches out with his senses, searching for signs of civilization. But something is wrong with that, too, as while he can tell that something is out there, he cannot touch it. He travels in that direction for hours. The heat wins out over the flies, and he pulls off his sweater.

He hears voices and follows them, finally emerging filthy, covered in welts, and blinking in confusion. ]

Where are we?

Cursed by the love that I received Temporary Quarters (Closed to mutants & their +1s)

[ The Namalans accommodated Erik's request readily enough. Not that it was enough to ease his misgivings. They had to put them all somewhere, the fact that they took their own preferences into account was hardly evidence of anything other than their desire to not make things harder than they needed to be to prove a point. Still, it gave him some measure of comfort to have them all under the same roof.

With Charles back, young and inexperienced as he is, and Raven as well, Erik is happy to retreat from the leadership role that had been thrust upon him. And the uncomfortable questions the children have about his apparent death and resurrection. Instead, he keeps as low a profile as he can.

But he can't avoid them completely without moving out himself, something he is unwilling to do. He is in the kitchen, making eggs for breakfast. Such a mundane thing. Such a mundane place. He glances out the window at the people on their way to work.]

We can't stay here.

[ He announces to whoever is in the room. ]

White noise, what an awful sound Exploration (OTA)

[ There are certain things one does when one is being watched. Be aware of the observer. Behave as expected. Make yourself as small and unremarkable as possible.

Find allies.

He falls into step alongside another from Avagi. One who isn't busy beating their heads against the bars and en route to sending themselves for re-education. Or whatever euphemism the Namalans use. ]

Nice day. Care to join me for a walk?

[ His tone is mild. He slips his hands into his pockets and glances around subtly, marking the location of their observers.]

Hand of God, deliver me Wildcard! PM or hit me up on discord/plurk

Lord I no longer believe

[personify]

[Raven has been in the small village with the Namalans for a day now, after a long and treacherous trek through the forest where she'd been so unceremoniously dumped from the Avagi. The space station she'd only just arrived in. A week that flew by like no time at all. So much information to absorb... and accept.

Erik had been there. But now Erik is dead. There's a feeling, like a fist grabbing tight around her heart that hasn't really left since she'd been told. She can't help wondering if maybe she'd been here, that maybe she'd been able to help... maybe she could have stopped it. But she's too late.

She's in the village, looking as herself in her black, white, and blue X-men uniform. Raven is still trying to work out the intentions of this place. It's people. They seem to be allowing them to stay there with them, but there's certainly something there. Something they're hiding. Raven intends to find out what. For now she's bidding her time before taking action just yet.

There's movement out of the corner of her eye, causing her to divert from her path to explore the town further. A form stepping out of the forest.] Erik... [It's said softly like a release of a breath she's not aware she's been holding in. It's him. He's alive. Her feet move of their own accord and she's by him in an instant. As she's closer her pace slows before reaching him, blinking back the tears she's been holding in since learning he'd died. But here he is. Alive. If not clearly battered.] They told me you were dead.

( i. )

[mentis]

( Raven had been the one to tell him, in the end. She'd heard it from Kurt, and because Charles had been more focused on investigating - not moping, thank you very much - she'd had to relay it to him. It had felt like being shot, as though suddenly the air had been knocked from him, the earth moved far away. But whatever upset, whatever grief that might have come upon him had been pushed as far down as he could manage.

Now wasn't the time to mourn, not when he had to figure out how to get them home.

Of course, this was a setback. The Namalans had been kind enough to loan them a place to rest, and so Charles' smile in return had been kind, jovial, full of thanks and gratitude. He didn't trust them, but he could so easily play a part. Which is why he's wandering the edge of the town alone, gathering his thoughts. There's something ... odd about what's happening, and while he's been tempted to try and press further, he can't risk the others getting hurt.

He feels Erik before he sees him, a sudden spark of light in the corner of his mind. Charles doesn't think about it, just runs to where the edge of the treeline is, undignified and uncaring. He reaches out, thankful that he can, thankful that there is no blasted helmet, simply repeating I'm here until he sees his friend in the flesh. )

Erik. You're alive.

charles xavier ( ota )

[mentis]

a. The Forest.

( He should probably be thankful he's spent the last few weeks aiding the children in their training. Any other time and his soft academic muscles and his alcohol blood level would make this walk absolute hell. At least on the Ingress he'd managed to find some clothes that weren't made out of leather, because he's sure had he had to deal with that plus this insufferable heat, he'd have died. His hair is a mess, matted and sweaty, face flushed pink. But he's managing.

Others look like they might not be, and if Charles spots anyone waning he's quick to step up beside them with a quick smile and a friendly hand resting on their shoulder. ) You're doing wonderfully. ( Offering his arm. ) I'm sure it's just a little bit more, and then we'll be able to sit down with a nice cup of tea.

( Is he radiating calm and composure? No, of course not. That's not humanly possible ... )

b. The Town

( There's something about this place that has Charles feeling uneasy. He can't quite pinpoint why, and he would definitely like to find out. For now though, he's more interested in making sure the displaced are safe. He's seen the looks some of them have gotten from the Namalans, the disquiet aggression that falls over their varied features. He's seen the way they're being watched.

Just like someone is now. Charles can sense tension in the air, the threat of something spilling over. It means he's rushing across the street to the Avagian with a bright smile and a lot of bluster. ) Oh, there you are! I've been looking all over for you. You were supposed to meet me the street over.

( Whether he knows the person or not, it doesn't matter. He's going to try and guide them away anyway. )

c. Wildcard

( I am up for literally anything with Charles. Ping me at athosing if you want to chat beforehand. )

( ooc: keeping this as vague as possible while i wait on answers re: telepathy. also this can be charles' intro to the game, so if you want to handwave them meeting aboard the ship that's fine by me! just lmk. )

a

[shiro2hero]

[Look, when you slap your magic space hand down on the Ingress Memorial, you really don't expect yourself to survive the experience. You also do not expect it to drain every bit of energy out of you. Shiro had fallen asleep back there, afterward, but the sudden drop into a jungle means no more rest.]

[The only thing really keeping him going is the thought of finding the others. They've got to be here. He promised. He promised them he'd come back and -- ]

[Someone is talking. He's sort of sagged against a rock, holding onto it with armor-covered fingers. It takes him several long beats to not only process he's being spoken to, but the voice itself.]

... Professor?

[He's got to be hallucinating.]

Raven Darkholme | ota

[personify]

i. In the Woods

[Ever since she's been dragged to the Avagi, each day has been one thing after the other. There's been little time to get accustomed to her new reality before she's thrust into yet another hard to reconcile event or truth. She's stuck on the Avagi and can't return home, Kurt is there too, mutants from a future she's never going to live are there, Charles is there too and he's twenty years younger... Erik is dead.

It's too much to process, let alone accept.

Then she finds herself here. In a jungle. It's beautiful, certainly. But by now Raven's is on the end of her rope. Each new slight and irritant taking her that much closer to taking her frustration out on something or anyone who irritates her in even the slightest way. The heat is causing sweat to bead down her blue skin and making it almost hard to maintain the illusion she's wearing her X-men uniform. At least there's that saving grace for the humidity and overbearing warmth, while it may appear so... she's not wearing any actual clothes.

Except that meant the bugs that call this forest home have more skin free and available to bite. She hisses when another gets her, smacking it hard with her palm and causing the insect to explode against her skin. It leaves a green bio-luminescent trail in it's deceased wake that matches the plants around her.] Fuck! [She keeps walking, trudging in one direction with little idea of where it is she's going. Perhaps she'll stumbling along someone who has a better idea of where to go. And if she does run into them perhaps she'll be more agreeable with them than she's feeling and they won't simply decide to leave her to sort out her own way to civilization instead.]

ii. Suburbia in Hell

[Even if this place were not in the middle of a forest that seemed intent on killing them, or if the Namalans didn't appear to be a bit... 'off', this place would have been outside the bounds of Raven's familiarity and comfort. It feels like the suburbs, white picket fences and bake sales. Nothing she's ever experienced, nor cared to. Well off humans, living their lives obvious to the rest of the world's experience. Although the Home Owners Association that is the Namalans here leave her with even more of a funny taste in her mouth more than catty old ladies of suburbia might. One of them always seems to be watching. It's eerie and suspicious. They are up to something, she's sure.

On the third day she's there, they start to ask her to pitch in. To contribute. She doesn't trust any of what is going on here or the tasks they have indicated they want her to do. So she agrees amiable enough, telling them that she'll certainly get started on doing that right away! Except, she doesn't. Instead, she walks off out of sight into the woods as though taking a moment to explore before seeing to the indicated task. She travels far enough into the trees to be unseen and another arrival comes in, seemingly disoriented and confused! Raven will not be cowed by these natives into doing what they ask. She didn't ask to be here and if she could leave she most certainly would!

The first time she changes into a dark haired young man, a gangly teenager. The second an older woman in her sixties with white hair down to her back. Next, a form resembling one of the other alien species she's seen among her fellow Avagi. She'll do this for as long as she can.]

iii. wildcard! [ooc: if you want to do anything else please hit me up either PM, owemeoneperogi, or discord @bisky#3564

ii

[shadowblends]

[for a while, it's nice to pretend like they're in some kind of sane place, but after some time, after the monotony begins to sink in, kurt starts feeling like things are off.

except, this time, he doesn't get into the namalans business as he normally would. he keeps to himself, going about the day just like the natives expect him to while picking up on the subtle things they give him. he notices they are never really alone-- hell, he's willing to bet that they're somehow watching them in their homes, but he has no proof so he can't confront anyone about it or bring the notion to any of his friends.

as time goes on, he finds that he's begun loathing leaving his home, despite the fact he has a job at an apothecary making medicine he enjoys at times. (thank goodness, they gave him a job he's decent at.)

with his head down, it becomes more difficult for him to react when people suddenly come into his line of vision.] Ach! [he exclaims, tail darting forward to catch the book that's escaped from his arms during the almost collision.

he backpedals once it's secured and raises his head, brow furrowed at his own clumsiness, but also at the sight of a teenager he's ... pretty sure he has never seen before.] Sorry about that. I should probably keep my eyes on the road.

Cayde-6 // OTA

[deal_me_in]

Not in Kansas Anymore (Arrival)

     "Cayde!"

     It had taken a moment, reorienting and readjusting to the sudden end of the whiteness and the reassertion of gravity, of...reality? Wait, what had happened? Cayde looks around blearily at the forest surrounding them, and it's only another moment more before he finds himself nearly with his Ghost in his face.

     "Hey! What the- Take it easy!" the Exo sputters, bringing a hand over the Ghost as it twitches ecstatically. And then it pauses to look around, vertices widening and then lowering in something of a confused expression. "Wait, where are we?"

     Cayde looks at his little floaty companion, equally confused. "You mean you don't know?"



Welcome to the Jungle (Outskirts of the city)

     Sure, the place is pretty enough, but there's something about glowing plants and the insects that just suggests caution. Not that the unusual shifts in temperature and poisonous bugs are a bother to an Exo. He wanders along without any sort of hint that he's been bothered by any of the recent events, although those that had been on the Away Team before the shift might well know what had become of him. Still, he seems in good spirits and will assist anyone pestered by insects with his knife, and if he's faking, then he must be an excellent actor.

     At times his Ghost is hovering alongside him, other times seemingly absent as the Guardian prefers to keep his AI companion merged and unseen in case of any complications they may come upon.


Na-ma-ma-los (Doot-doo-do-do-doot)

     "This place is weird."

     Everyone might be thinking it, Cayde's just saying it. He's come to look around the city as it's only natural to have a look and figure out where they are, and possible means to get...well, at the moment, anywhere else but here seems good to the Exo. He'd taken one look at the houses and noped right on out. Maybe he's secretly afraid of domestic life. Or maybe it's just that it all looks so painfully normal. In any case, it seems he'll prefer to take his chances elsewhere than play Suzy Homemaker.

     There's that underlying feeling that it's anything but, around here. He'll be on his best behavior for now, but as he gives himself a private tour of the city, one might particularly notice his interest in the spaceport. "Hmmmm...."

     Given there's nothing barring anyone from entering the place, Cayde goes to have a "proper" look of the place. One might find him chatting up a few people here and there on the off chance that maybe someone might be interested in selling their spacecraft, and then scowling as he mutters at the outrageous costs he's been quoted.

     Well, there's more than one way to get a ship, and if he sees you taking interest in his activities, he might just sidle on up to you if you don't first.

     "So..! What are your thoughts on...borrowing a ship?"


Choose Your Own Adventure

((OOC: Hit me up on PM or trilobite_punch if you want to do something specific! or be there/help him trigger his memory of when he got Mirtos'd))

do-Do-do do-Do-do

[magneticfields]

Erik doesn't feel that his work sweeping streets is demeaning. Work is work, and keeping a community clean is important. It's certainly not the best use of his skills, but it does have the side benefit of allowing him to move around the community without arousing suspicion.

When Cayde sidles up to him, he keeps his expression neutral and doesn't look at the spaceport. He simply shrugs and nods in the direction of the newspaper stand some yards away. "I think that would leave quite a few of our friends stranded here, unless you have some plan for how to evacuate us all onto a borrowed craft."

nill | DOGS: BULLETS & CARNAGE | ota

[culver]

i'm weird 'cause i hate goodbyes [work]

This place seems oddly tame compared to a lot of the planets they'd visited. Sure, the bugs and plants could be toxic, but they were easy to avoid inside the city limits. So of course Nill had wanted to do anything she could to make sure their stay here, temporary or otherwise, would be comfortable and uneventful.

But working in a factory is not exactly what she'd had in mind when she'd offered to take up a temporary job.

It's tedious, repetitive work, and it gives her mind time to wander. She's dexterous enough, which the locals seem to appreciate, and she learns her assigned activity quickly enough. But the motions--bend this wire, attach that piece here, make sure this is perfectly aligned--take their toll after a few days. Her muscles are sore, her hands are starting to develop blisters, which will turn into callouses if she keeps it up for much longer.

Her shift ends, and she makes her way to one of the small parks she'd noticed dotting the city area. There's a bench, plain and in a patch of shade, where she settles herself, looking down at her hands with a small frown as her wings flick with agitation behind her.]

i got misty eyes and they said farewell [wildcard]

[hit me up on plurk at watchet if you wanna do something specific!]

in the park!

[callamities]

[Calla was not made to work in silence. He was not made to work in solitude. Unfortunately, those are two things he’s had plenty of since he was assigned a job in the Namalan library. He’s found out very quickly that the native visitors to the library don’t appreciate being approached for conversation and he’d even endured a rather stern talking-to from the librarian for his attempts. He's stayed quiet since then, trying to ignore the loneliness rubbing up against a function designed around socialization.

Within a few days, he’s starved enough for conversation that he’ll approach anybody who looks like they might be from Avagi and not the tedious, muted world they find themselves on now. He's fortunate enough to spot someone as he makes his way home through one of the city's parks.

Calla has seen the winged Creator on the station before, though he’s never spoken to her. It’s easy enough to make an excuse to approach, as she stares unhappily down at her hands. His function is, generally speaking, to make people feel better and the girl looks like she could use it. She may hear the soft, steady tick of his sound as he approaches, though it’s quieter now than usual.]

Excuse me, ma’am? [He dips his head in respectful greeting as he stops a few paces away.] Are you alright?

rey | star wars: tfa | ota

[ventifact]

wear your yellow shades and i'll put on my tight jeans [the spaceport]

Days pass in a blur of watching, timing, and calculating. Eventually Rey realizes that she would never be able to organize everyone she'd want to take with her fast enough to take one of the ships that come in and out of atmo. There's simply no telling how long they're going to stay--some are there for hours, and some seem to only touch down for a few minutes before lifting off again. Either way, the number of people she cares about has grown too great for her to successfully steal a ship, herd them all on to it, and escape before they're caught.

It's inconvenient, but it's her life now.

Plan to hijack a ship abandoned, Rey does spend most of her non-working time on the landing strips, waiting to see who gets off the ships and what they have. Though Unkar Plutt was the main trader on Jakku, he hadn't been the only person to barter with, and Rey has ample experience in that department. She doesn't have much she's willing to part with, but has it all with her just in case. At the moment she's sitting a little ways away from a ship she doesn't recognize but can't help but admire as she munches on some strange alien fruit.

and we'll just spend the weekend burnin' rubber [work]

They want her to garden.

The only thing Rey knows about plants is that she sometimes has to water the cacti she'd collected for her AT-AT home on Jakku. Plants require too much water to be practical, but at least the succulents could go for long periods of time without requiring much attention at all. She still cared for them meticulously, of course, but it was easy enough to stick her finger in the sand-filled pots where they lived and see if they were ready for a drink.

But other plants, ones that were lush and had wide leaves to soak up as much sun as possible, are a mystery to her.

She sits cross-legged in front of the little plot she's been assigned, trying to decide what's a weed and what isn't. Though she's seen far more vegetation during her time away from Jakku than she ever thought possible, she's never had the chance to really look at anything up close. The Greenery on the station was always pretty well taken care of, so she'd just assumed everything there was good. But now she's been told there are bad plants that need to go because they "ruin the aesthetic," and she isn't really sure what that means.

The scavenger bites the inside of her cheek before letting out a frustrated grunt, reaching out to grab what may or may not be a weed. It has tiny thorns, which is a pretty solid indication that it is--but those thorns also come into contact with her bare skin. She snatches her fingers back, hissing. "Frack!"

we'll let 'em point and stare in disbelief [wildcard]

[as always, hit me up on plurk at watchet if you wanna do anything specific!]

work

[redshitlord]

"Psssst!"

This would probably be more shocking, or more bizarre, if this probably didn't happen on a regular basis around her. Mostly because of who she knew. Or, in this case, who knew her.

It's probably the first time he's spoken out loud in weeks. But here it doesn't feel so bad. It doesn't feel like he's choking, like something is going to leap out and strangle him. Or pull down the eyes of space on everyone he cares about.

So he hiss-whispers at her. Several times.

From where he's parked in a bush.

Sorry, Rey, Sideswipe is back.

Shiro | OTA

[shiro2hero]

1) THROUGH THE WOODS
[It seems like he'd just touched the memorial. Like no time at all had passed. He'd just been there. Just been ready to throw everything he had into it so his friends could survive. But he remembers falling asleep. It's all a blur.]

[So is most of the hike.]

[It's spent dragging his feet. Forcing himself to keep walking against all better judgment. He's got to find someone. Anyone. His team, his friends, the people he'd promised -- but the longer he keeps shoving himself forward, the more and more exhausted he gets. Until he's leaning against a tree, pale and utterly exhausted.]


2) IS THIS THE SPACE HOSPITAL
[When he does wake up, he's in whichever residence someone saw fit to put him in. It's likely been close to twenty hours of just solid sleep from the moment he set foot in town. Everything still feels heavy. Dazed. The metal arm at his side hangs loosely, almost as if someone left a screw undone. His fingers twitch, but not much else.]

[Needless to say... as soon as he wakes up, he's going to make a game effort to push himself to his feet, and figure out where exactly he is. Along with anyone he might know.]

[Anyone in this residence is probably going to bear witness to the still fatigued shade of the Black Paladin, groggily looking for a familiar face.]

Anyone here...? [Or maybe some water. His voice sounds raw.]



3) SUBURBIA PLANET??
[Once he's back on his feet, it's time to take a look around. Get the lay of the land, so to speak. Maybe there's a way out. A way back, if he hasn't found the others, yet. His right arm is in a makeshift sling -- it's functional. But heavy. More than it should be. It's just easier to keep it out of the way, for now.]

[For the most part, he can be found anywhere in the settlement, but is, inevitably, drawn to the spaceport. Watching the ships come in and out, trying to memorize their patterns. Just in case.]

[Anything not to think about the people he can't find just yet.]


4) wildcard
(( ooc: if you want anything else, let me know! PM or redfirelight on plurk! ))

3

[lavelly]

[Lavellan's doing some wandering of his own--as far as he knows, he woke up here after the storms hit the station. His memories of all that are... fuzzy, but more than that, the sterility, the complacency of this place has him on edge.

So he, too, is looking for someone he knows. Any familiar face at all.

When he spots Shiro, he comes up in a light jog, and he doesn't bother trying to pretend he's calm.]

Shiro. What do you make of all this?

diana prince | dceu | ota

[monomachy]

the night is young and the music's high [the wilderness]

The pull of the light had been too strong to resist--and even if Diana had wanted to, she is so weakened from giving her energy to the memorial that she couldn't. The only time she had felt so powerless was when Steve had left her on the tarmac, his watch in her hands and his words lost on her ears. She'd never wanted to feel that way again.

And yet, as she regains her senses in the jungle, she is nearly overwhelmed by the feeling again.

The landscape is beautiful, but she cannot truly appreciate it as she slowly gets to her feet. Diana's armor feels heavy, the shield a weight she has trouble bearing. None of this shows on her face, though; she cannot give in to the fragility that had suddenly overtaken her. She doesn't know how long she'd been unconscious after giving the last bit of herself to the memorial, but when she'd woken, nothing about herself had felt quite right. But her sacrifice had been worth it--the monsters had been held back, they'd all made it to... wherever this place is. That's better than being trapped on a station that was slowly filling with a toxic storm. Probably.

Exhaling slowly, Diana looks around, trying to figure out which direction she needs to go. At a loss, she starts towards what she believes is north, keeping her eyes and ears open for signs of another person.

with a bit of rock music, everything is fine [work]

During her childhood, Diana had learned about many of the fine arts: painting, sculpture, and, of course, weaving. Her mother had insisted that she be a princess first, as she was the only one her people had and would ever have. She'd had artistic concepts drilled into her head right beside all her mother's lessons on diplomacy and decorum.

Her heart had never been in it, and she'd snuck away from more lessons than her tutors could count--or tolerate.

So when she's asked to help make baskets, of all things, she sends up a prayer to Apollo, asking him to guide her hands in an art she hasn't practiced for thousands of years. And, to be honest, her first attempt isn't as bad as it could be, but the others are better once she actually watches her companions instead of trying to do it all from memory. So they let her take the first basket home; she suspects this is less an act of charity and more so nobody else will have to use it.

Said basket is more than a little crooked, and the handle is fraying. But it's suitable enough to hold the food she's gathered to take back to her lodgings. At least, she'd thought it was. Without warning, the bottom of the basket gives out, sending the various fruits and such rolling over the paved streets. Diana balks at them.

But even a god can be unlucky, it seems.

Sighing (and grumbling a bit), Diana stoops down to try and salvage some of the food.

you're in the mood for a dance [the wellness center]

She had not lied to Steve when she'd told him that they danced on Themyscira. Even though she doesn't quite believe that what humans do is "just swaying" anymore, it still doesn't come close to Amazonian dancing. The rhythmic workouts of the Namaloan people is a bit closer, but still not quite what she'd had in mind when she'd decided to take one of their classes. Still, it improves her mood dramatically, and she can't help but add her own flourishes to each routine--an extra jump here, a high and sweeping kick there, occasionally throwing her arms in the air. Their strangely particular routines don't bother her much, but she can't quite stick to them herself. Her melodic laugh floats through the center, drawing strangely neutral gazes from the natives--but her strength has begun to return, and she's excited that her body is starting to feel normal again.

and when you get the chance [wildcard]

[my dudes, find me on plurk at watchet if you wanna do something specific!]

work

[shiro2hero]

Honestly, he doesn't think anything of stopping to help someone pick up the spilled goods. It's second nature. Even with the right arm in the sling -- it's functional, it's not injured, it's just heavy and wears on his still recovering strength -- it's nothing to hunker down, scoop up a wayward round fruit. To offer it back to its owner.

And...

Stop.

Suddenly, completely relieved. Some of the color might actually come back into his face for a moment, seeing who it is he's stopped with.

"Diana."

Badou Nails | OTA

[brokeassgoing]

Actually being a Productive member of society the A game

[Badou's gone back to his roots....and no, his roots are all natural up there, get out--
Customer service was never for him, but here he is, in a little apron handing out samples for something or other. He's not sure what exactly it is that's on his little tray, but he'll shove some of it under your nose if he recognizes you or not--]

Try this fantabulous uhhh wiener on a stick! Take one nibble and get the whole shaft for free-- Great for parties or for dining on alone.

The part 2 of Badou gets a Job

[Alright so that hadn't worked out, and he'd barely been able to avoid the residents' stares and disapproval. But he's here to snoop be helpful! And helpful they'd deem him, as far away from them as possible.

Repairing the roof of a nearby house seems to be about as far up as can be to the heavens, anyway.

Or the hell of a shingle dropping way too close to your head as you walk by. If this should happen, have fun spotting the flash of red hair from above before Badou ducks back up]

steak out

[It sure as hell hasn't been easy finding time alone to himself. To snoop. If he hadn't very well repaired some stuff with his own two hands, Badou would figure this place for an ever-turning simulation, it was so perfect.

Except that building. Along with all the other causes of concern, this was a pretty big red flag. He can't say he's shaken his Watchers, but he's made himself comfortable for a stakeout along the street, just taking in the day, enjoying the sun.

Nothing to see here, move along. He'll retreat to a new building, a shop or two, along the route when his loitering seems to be too pronounced. Badou might even use you for that very distraction.]

A game

[aka_pistachio]

[ This place sucks. The forest sucks out her blood and the town sucks out her soul. When the first Namalan politely suggested she take a job she impolitely flipped her off and ran off with Pino. She was followed, of course. Because she can't go anywhere in this fucked up place without being followed.

Well. Maybe back into the murder neon forest.

When Badou shoves a sample under her nose she swats his hand away but doesn't punch him, at least. ]

What the fuck, dude.

Sideswipe | OTA

[redshitlord]

a) FOREST
[Sideswipe has literally no idea where he is. Or what the heck just happened here. One second he was hiding in a storage compartment, like a winner, and the next, there was light. So much light. Light and floating and then he landed on the ground.]

[On ... alien ground. Which is just great.]

Oh come on!

[Yelled out to literally no one. Maybe just the sky. He stands stock still for a few moments before realizing... he just shouted. Out loud. And nothing bad happened. Nothing at all. He had his hands clamped over his mouth, but slowly lowers them.]

[Before transforming, and speeding off into the underbrush as a cherry red sportcar.]



b) ... SLIGHTLY LESS FOREST
[Being a literal giant robot, the whole trek through the forest doesn't really bother him much. It's just hard to weave through the trees. Or it was. But what does bother him is the sudden civilization. How it looks like something out of one of those movies no one ever let him watch. The scary ones.]

[Needless to say, he's not coming out. He's not transforming unless absolutely necessary. He will stay here. In the bushes on the edge of the "town". Besides, where would they even put him? It's not like the Moira, or even the other planet. Those places had room.]

[... the locals may not pay much attention to the bright red car in their shrubs, but anyone who knows Sideswipe probably will. He's not subtle.]

[And neither is the music playing on his stereo, as he starts to get bored.]


c) wildcard
((ooc: anything else? Hit me up! Also probably going to pop in a prompt later on for consequence shenanigans))

b

[personify]

[Raven doesn't know Sideswipe but knows that a bright red sports car is more than a little out of place peaking here.

Moving closer, her steps are tentative. Once Raven's closer she reaches out a blue hand to touch the hood of the car, that she's no idea it might take issue with being touched without asking. What's it doing out here? There's music playing inside it. She looks around, trying to see if she can spot anyone else, someone who might have brought this car out here. What the hell is going on?]

Widowmaker - OTA

[araignee_du_soir]

1. [What was that? Was that Widowmaker heading into one of the Namalan schools? At least she had a bland, bored expression on her face and was lacking the rifle she'd had on her back earlier that she'd been carrying with her everywhere from the days before they ended up on Namalos. Despite the bizarreness of an assassin heading into a school, Widowmaker was there for her job: serving the students meals at the cafeteria.

When she emerged a few hours later, her bored expression was more one of annoyance. Catching sight of one of her fellow Avagians, she sniffed and spoke in icy tones.]

What ridiculousness are they having you do?



2. [A few days later, something odd was happening. Widowmaker was heading to work as scheduled, but instead of a bored or annoyed expression, she had a small smile on her face and a folded apron in hand. A pleasant humming accompanied her as headed to the school to serve more neat precise plates to the students. But the hum stopped and her eyes narrowed a bit as someone nearby was causing a disruption. Very much like the Namalans that were nearby...]

Please desist. I am sure you having somewhere to be.

1.

[magneticfields]

[ Erik hasn't seen Widowmaker since... well, Alcoran. As far as he knows. He did not expect to see her emerge from the school but is pleasantly surprised when he does.

He shrugs at her question, as he uses a push broom to sweep the sidewalk. ]

Street cleaning.

[ He marks the location of his current observers. None close enough to eavesdrop if he speaks low. He puts on a flirtatious expression and stands closer so he can speak even more quietly. ]

What do you think of that spaceport?

Vetra | OTA

[nyx_it]

a) HIKING
[Vetra Nyx is not a happy woman.]

[The heat doesn't bother her. It's the cold that feels like it's seeping into every inch of her scales. Even with her armor on. Fortunately, the bugs don't seem to be too interested in turian blood -- or they just can't get through armor and turian hide. Small mercies. It's the cold... and the sudden absence of people she knows. The sudden disappearance of people like Cayde that get to her.]

[She could have sworn she'd seen or heard the Ghost. Somewhere. But thinking about it too much was too big of a distraction in the woods. These crazy alien woods.]

Getting real tired of random teleportation... [She doesn't say this to anyone in particular, pausing to push aside a wall of vines in the trail.] ... really, really tired.


b) AROUND TOWN
[For a while, she'd explored. It was sort of nice to be around so many aliens again -- the Namalans seemed to be a pretty varied people. It meant a turian didn't stand out as much. Meant she could go check out the spaceport without people batting too much of an eye. She can be found there, taking a few notes on her omni-tool. Or briefly chatting with a cargo pilot.]

[But then the stares get more intense. Then it feels like the scales on the back of her neck are going to prickle off. Asking around provides the reason why -- visitors are supposed to contribute. So... fine, if it helps her profile lower a little...]

[Later on, she can be found staring at her place of "employment" with a look bordering on both bafflement and irritation.]

What the hell am I supposed to do with this?

[It's a hairdresser.]


c) wildcard
((ooc: anything else? Hit me up!))

[personify]

I've only just gotten here and I'm already tired of it... [A voice cuts through the forest. If Vetra takes a few more steps beyond the vines, she'll see a woman sitting on the ground and leaning up against a tree. A blue skinned woman with a bright red hair, and yellow eyes.

Raven's exhausted. Perhaps that's due to the hike, or one of the many bugs that's bitten her already... or the dehydration from the overbearing heat. At any rate, she'd needed to sit down. Rest a while. She'll be up in a minute. Or fifty.]

Calla | OTA

[callamities]

i. manual debugging [forest]
[Calla’s grateful as anybody to be off of Avagi. Between the terrifying, eyeless monsters and the ever-encroaching, devouring storms, he’d take pretty much anywhere before the crumbling space station. After being in the forest for a few hours though, he is quickly coming to the conclusion that "anywhere" is barely more tolerable.

First, there’s the heat. Calla is not used to high temperatures, nor is he made to run in them. After a few hours in the muggy heat, his processes all begin to feel sluggish and heavy. It's not enough to incapacitate him, but just enough to give him a sick, woozy feeling that drags at his senses. On top of that is the bugs. Calla is not organic and thus doesn’t have much to offer the insects in way of blood, nor would any of their various toxins and allergens have any effect on him. However, having glowing marks on his face in a forest full of bioluminescent plants is a recipe for disaster—especially if “disaster” means having a pollinating insects land on his face every few seconds. Calla can only take it in silence for so long. After several hours, when he thinks he’s out of earshot of the rest of the group, he gives a wrathful swat at one of the bugs.]

I’m not a fucking flower!

ii. shelfsort.exe failed to initialize [work, library]
[When the Namalans bring up assigning him a function, Calla is understandably nervous. He isn’t averse to doing work; in fact, he’s more worried that they won’t find anything suitable for him. They’ve been accommodating enough so far, but what will the consequences be if he can’t "repay their hospitality?"

As it turns out, he has no need to worry. The Namalans make no inquiries as to his original function and seem to give him the first vacant position they can think of: a book shelver at a library.

On one hand: they’ve assigned him a function! On the other hand: it has nothing to do with his actual function and he has no idea how it works. Still, when he’s shuttled to the library and given a staff badge, he has little choice but to play the part. Therefore, if you visit Namalos’s local public library, you may hear a soft ticking from between the shelves and see the Program studiously arranging a row of books.

At least, that’s what you’ll see at first glance. If you actually spend more than a minute watching, you may notice that he’s removing and reshelving the same four books over and over again.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Help?]

i.

[deal_me_in]

Whoa! Watch the language!

[There's a hint of a smirk in that for all that they've been dumped in an unknown forest of unending pests. But things could probably be worse!

Cayde steps out from a swath of glowing flora, absently twirling his knife in hand, its blade nearly as long as his forearm and slightly splattered with bug juice. Not too difficult to figure what he's been doing with it.]

King Alfor // OTA

[alformthearm]

Fluorescent Flora
     The light that had washed through the halls from the Ingress memorials had helped greatly to clear his mind- and to finally ease the fatigue that had been clinging to him since his attempted study of the storms. If only he could feel at ease for knowing what's become of his daughter and the others back at the other end of the station. Things had erupted all too abruptly and much too quickly.

     It had been a lot to process between the then and the now. The endless white had vanished, and once again Alfor found solid ground beneath his feet, and the unmistakable atmosphere around him, while amazing to behold, gives him no real reassurance for the fact that he's not seen anyone he knows.

     If the ACE systems are down, he'll resort to using the comms built into his Red Paladin suit. "Allura? Shiro- anyone? Can you hear me?" The readings on his armor's energy is still lower than he'd like for what had been siphoned off by the storm, and hopefully not limiting his range for communication. The thought's troubling, but given the questionable surroundings, the Altean king decides against attempting to charge his armor here. Perhaps there's a way out of this forest...


Uncertain Utopia
     The city of Namalos is peaceful, he'll give it that. It might be a welcome break from the previous causes for panic and necessity on Avagi, but it's still much too simple to think that they're saved. It had been a mysterious message that had been given them, by an equally mysterious...well, Alfor isn't even sure what to call it. But why had it deposited them here?

     At least he'll find time to see to the power levels of his armor here without concern of being attacked or left too tired to defend himself, and without any direction, he decides to learn what he can about the city and its inhabitants. Certainly it can't be of any harm to ask questions, now can it?

THE WOOOOOODS

[shiro2hero]

It's the voice in his helmet that gets him to stop the dogged, fatigued march through the unfamiliar woods. Apparently pumping the energy of the arm into the Ingress memorial left you completely exhausted. Who knew? It takes him a second to process what he's hearing.

"Alfor?"

It better be. He shoulders himself off a tree, in order to look around. Maybe he can spot the king somewhere around...

"Where are you?"

Alan Bradley | OTA

[alan_1]

i. i wish you could remind me who i was [work]
[Grief is a funny thing. Alan has heard of the “five stages” like everyone else, but his own experience has hardly conformed to its pattern. When Flynn had first disappeared those decades ago, on the occasions he was cynical enough to diagnose himself, he usually placed himself as perpetually stuck on stage three: bargaining. If he worked a little harder, searched a little deeper, then surely that loss they had all experienced would reverse itself. It had only been upon arriving on the Moira that he had ever approached anything like acceptance.

Leave it to Flynn to show up right when Alan had thought he’d finally made it to that fabled fifth stage. And then leave it to him to disappear a few scant months later, as if whatever force had brought the rest of the survivors to Namalan simply hadn’t deigned to take him as well.

Maybe that would explain the feeling Alan has had since he found out—or, rather, the lack of feeling. He doesn’t feel incredulous, angry, hopeful, or even properly sad. He doesn’t feel much at all.

Turns out he’s on a good planet for it. The Namalans assign him a menial position at a local market, which has him doing mundane, repetitive work preparing and packaging food for most of the day. It doesn’t exactly lift his spirits, but it gives him something to focus on beside the unsettling emptiness he feels.

At least, it does. It’s a few days after he started working and he’s cutting the stalks off of some alien produce like he’s been shown, mind as blank as ever. He doesn’t feel the knife nick his skin and would never have noticed the cut on his hand if he didn’t spot the blood staining the kitchen knife.

It’s a small injury. It’s a small mistake, fixable enough by throwing out the vegetable he was cutting, finding a bandage, and fetching a fresh knife.

But Alan does none of those things. Instead, he shoves the entire cutting board into the sink beside him and walks out of the kitchen. His heart is pounding and it's a struggle to keep his face impassive. He's angry at himself, shocked at how he'd reacted, and something else, something he's too afraid to face head-on. He just needs to get away from there, away from his coworkers and the dull, business-like patrons. He leaves the market and somehow, his coworkers seem to know not to try stopping him.

Which is how you’ll find him: some distance outside the market, walking quickly with his head down, one bleeding hand pressed shaking against his chest.]

ii. because every day i’m a little further off [wildcard]
(Alan will be dutifully showing up to his job at the market, as well as occasionally visiting the park or wellness center, though he’ll seem pretty out-of-it throughout. If you want to do something more specific, feel free to contact me via PM or at crimsonxiphos!)

i

[lavelly]

[Lavellan's first thought is that he's glad to see Alan, because this place is being horrible for his own sense of stability and Alan has only ever been a calming presence. For some reason--he's certain been more patient with Lavellan than he's deserved.

So it's with some energy, if not actual cheer, that Lavellan strides toward Alan when he first sees him. Almost immediately his face falls, and he quickens his pace if anything, obviously concerned.]

You're injured.

[And his skill in healing is roughly jack shit.]

What happened?

Nihlus Kryik | Mass Effect | OTA

[beautifulspaceraptor]

A. Time Warp. Again. - OTA

Waking up in a strange new place was getting to be a very, very stale fact of life these days.

Nihlus goes through the motions: checks his packdisk to make sure he has available supplies. Checks his communications. Checks his surroundings to see who else had landed nearby.

You need water? Food? Other basic survival goods?

Well, he has all of those and some to spare. Don’t be afraid to ask!

B. 4:30AM - Closed to Shepard

It’s dark when Nihlus wakes up. Distant sounds of the city hum under the quiet blanket of gloom, lights from passing vehicles sliding across the wall from between the blinds, backlighting the disheveled, red strands of Shepard’s hair.

They’re curled up, crammed onto the couch together in the sparsely furnished temporary quarters. He can hear the soft cycle of her breathing, the even, slow beating of her augmented heart. She still carried the scent of the trek through the jungles- they both did.

For a long, long while, Nihlus just drowses, fading in and out of wakefulness. The sore ache of overworked muscles and the warmth and weight of Shepard’s body makes full lucidity difficult to grasp.

And if he’s being very honest, he didn’t particularly want to deal with having to wake again. Not for a while. It’s enough to just exist like this for now.

C. What they Call 'Varrentshitting' - OTA

After years of disregarding regulations to having no regulations to just plain having little to no way to enforce regulations outside of displeased griping- the exacting, stylus pushing temp job comes as a bit of a... surprise. Oh, sure, they’d definitely been logging in repair reports for Life Support because reverse engineering alien systems was a pain and a half without some method of tracking changes, but, well...

Documenting changes in vast, enigmatic systems as part of life-saving work was one thing. Pure, unfiltered and strangely domestic bureaucracy was something else entirely.

Getting dropped into the middle of a fast-paced, office work environment with no training wasn’t exactly the smoothest of introductions to a job, but it’s nothing he’s never done before: certainly, nothing he couldn’t handle. Hell, even the lack of any introductory training and unrealistic expectation of flawless performance wasn’t particularly new. It was just a matter of discreetly finding out where A goes, seeing who does B, futz around with the systems and correctly file X, Y and Z according to protocol.

He only trips up once and only because he couldn’t find the appropriate commands in the unfamiliar operating system in time to turn in the paperwork towards the end of the shift. He gets a peculiarly mild stern talking-to and covers it up, asking the lecturing supervisor to check and see if it was a system error instead: remembers the exact steps she clicks through to get through to what he wanted.

On day two, he’s behind the Receiving desk again, meticulously inputting the UPC codes and item descriptions into various forms. Need someone to check incoming stock for you?

C.

[notyourrookie]

Predictably, Wash is poking around as much as he can. The whole place sets him on edge for reasons that he can't quite figure out. maybe it's the way the Namalans move in synch like that? No, that shouldn't worry him. He's been in the military long enough that he should be used to that. You get used to moving in unison with the people on your squad.

But this... there doesn't seem to be anything enforcing it. There's no-one screaming orders, no apparent chain of command.

Except there's this building. Offices usually mean some useful information and this seems to be the place where things get done. It's surprisingly easy to get into, just a few bland glances from the people working here and- it's disturbing how in-tune they are. Several different species at that. When he stands and looks, they just route around him, barely even breaking step.

And it's then that he spots a familiar face. He wouldn't normally interfere if people want to lay low but... something about the way Nihlus moves...

"Nihlus? You okay there?"

[a_perfect_end]

i. dept. of forestry

Night on this world was long and dark, foliage so thick that even the days were shadowed over except for the steady, steam-threaded glow of leaves. That plants could shine like this, that they could sing to him in his native tongue, was a new and beautiful discovery.

The insects were not beautiful. Most of them preferred easier colors, white, green, blue, even violet--they assiduously avoided gold, and so he mostly avoided them--except for one large, flapping creature the width of his hand, feathering antennae bristling hot, eager tungsten where they nudged after the nectar they seemed certain he must contain.

"No." That for the first, hand slapping flatly at wings. "No, no--shoo. Get lost!"

One was quickly two, three, five...thirteen, twenty-one...he tossed his proverbial stack at thirty-four and crushed it, smeared golden-green life out wet in his palm.

The ichor of its death stuck there, bright as a beacon, clung to him however much he wiped at it. They liked his lights, but they liked the taste of carnage even better, and soon visual tracking was impossible, buried in soft dark wings, audio muted but for their steady, hungry flutter.

Walking had progressed from a difficulty to a trial to a hazard, and there were only more of them coming.

"Take a hike!" It was a roar of exasperation as much as anything else, his ACE already looped and broadcasting a hazard ping. "Help!"

He could survive another embarrassment. He was not about to be eaten by bugs.

ii. dept. of the interior

The Namalans extended wary hospitality, and warily, he'd accepted it. The Namalans promised him work in return for his welcome, but it would begin tomorrow, and meanwhile there were always one or two of them in his peripheral orbit, staring. Attention had never bothered him, but here it served only to worsen his restlessness.

The station was coming down around their ears, and this time there wasn't even any way back to it--his ferns would languish and die without him. Every alliance he made--and there were few enough--had proven disastrous.

He'd lost an anchor point he would never have admitted trying to claim. Not that he could tell anyone.

Meanwhile, impassive observant strangers in twos followed him everywhere, a quiet clockwork precision so familiar it ached. They knew their work, they did their work; they wanted for nothing--a sense of direction least of all.

It wasn't just his new friends. All Namalans possessed that surety, and it had to come from somewhere.

He turned that datum over again as they welcomed him quietly into the building: their calm had a source, and perhaps that source was meditation. Probably not.

But he'd had access to it before--had laughed it off twice a day with a teacher right there in front of him. He could have taken the lesson free and easy in the garden with his own Maker. Hadn't Flynn tried to show him?

Everyone else seemed to know what to do, but he was by far a better liar than any of these--practiced, glib, every nuance and gesture perfect. He could fake it. When sitting, just sit: so he sat. For an intolerable eternity, he sat, and no one else so much as cracked an eyelid to mark the passing of time.

He felt foolish, sitting coiled-legged, unknown syllables washing over him the same as nonsense, liquid as the ocean, meaningless as the Sea in their inexorable steady rhythm.

Gently. They hated disruption, after all, and so he casts about instead for any sign of faces he recognizes--or, at least, anyone who seems out of their element, still lively and perhaps tolerant of a seeker's pose.

"I don't understand. Any idea what it means?"

(And if he guessed wrong, hey. They were suckers for the meaning of life bit.)

iii. dept. of corrections

They'd given him work, and he did his with dedication. Teacher's assistant was not exactly a high-profile role, but life science lessons had proven it was exciting: insect dissection was a hazardous business even for the well-behaved. And it was meaningful work--his pupils, even as children and therefore entirely unlike Programs, were still early along in beta. They were quiet and methodical and polite, and just curious enough that providing them instructor-approved amounts of additional data was both interesting and rewarding.

Two-Three-En was an advanced student, brought in to keep the bigger ones from getting complacent and to keep the rest in his age bracket from falling too far behind. All differences were disruptive. Talent was extraordinarily disruptive, but all potential was valuable, and that made the balance delicate.

He was good with coordinates, with ballistics--even with teleology, which did not exist--and so watching him struggle with the basis of periodic functions was painful. Moreso because Dr. Kerensky noticed not at all, hands full with the rest of the high achievers, which might have been a joke or punishment in itself from some inscrutable place higher up in the department.

It was unwise to upset the department. The department was a dreadful thing.

Dismissed children did not return from the department office.

"No," Clu hummed softly, shaking his head, because Dr. Kerensky had stared him down when he'd snapped it out loud and automatic his first day. "Not like that, not--here, look. Try to think sequentially, Two-Three-En."

Two-three-En wagged one finger off the screen, a tiny darting gesture that meant got it or yeah or something close to it among the students. "Three, three six eight--" quiet, the way falling leaves were quiet, to himself against the screen, fingers tapping in steady rhythm. "...One?"

"You have to take everything away," Clu coughed out rote, the formulaic answer. "Balance it. Did you do both sides?"

Little flurry of fingers, quick and rude; an ugly sign for no and idiot. (Either I'm not stupid or I'm not stupid, you're stupid, but no one was looking their way.)

Clu squinted, counted: the whole thing was wrong. "That's not quite it. Try again?"

Once, twice, thrice more: the same result first, and then two more, similar but still incorrect. If he kept it up, the pad would throw an error log for sure, and then there'd be cause for evaluation on the spot.

Evaluations were inevitable, and they ended in dismissals.

...Unless...

"Nah," sharp, a little louder: the rude foreigner in his rude weird clothes, being rude and weird. "Gimme. Dr. Kerensky's busy--I'll evaluate this." Click clatter swish went the assistant's stylus, all authority--carefully underscoring the error, which should give the kid a hint, or at least space enough to finish the problem. "There. You untangle that, and I will finish grading these..."

"Clu. Two-three-En." The entire room shuddered to stillness at the dry, soft rustling of Dr. Kerensky's voice. "You are both wanted in the department office, as I understand it. Do you?"

"Um," Clu blurted carefully, meaning no way Jose`, "absolutely."

Which is, of course, the story of how a little kid and a grown man are huddled on the bench across from yours, adjusting perfectly fitted neckties and trying not to sweat.

"Great, makes two of us." He'll offer to shake hands. "What are you in for?"

iv. ministry of mashup (wildcard)

[He's gonna be breaking some windows with Shep later, but the yellow disaster's dance card is otherwise wide open.]

Darin Altway | OTA

[forgeabettertomorrow]

Temporary Quarters

For the most part, Darin was quite enjoying the time on Namalos. Sure, they were stranded, but they could have been stranded somewhere a lot less...picturesque. Plus, the locals had set them up with temporary housing and amenities. Granted, they had to work, but Darin was never one to shy away from work. He'd been spending his time wandering the oasis-like city making repairs to things that needed them as people requested. He's even hung a sign outside his room: "Need Repairs? Inquire Within!"

When he's not out exploring the wilderness, trying to strike up some trade at the Spaceport, or making himself useful, he'll be here in his lodgings, among his notebooks and datapads. Feel free to drop in for repair inquiries!

Spaceport

Seeing as how this is likely the biggest commercial hub around, Darin is currently peddling his services to anyone who will listen. He doesn't wait long; once someone disembarks, he's already pitching himself.

"Hey there, friend? Just arrive? You look like you're in need of some help. A guide? Need some repairs? How about a go-between for business negotiations? The name's Darin Altway, and I'm at your service. Just consider my a jack-of-all trades. If there's anything you need, I'm your man!"

He's usually at this for hours and...surprisingly, sometimes people actually take him up on it.

Wellness Center

What may be most surprising is that Darin is making use of the meditation rooms in the Wellness Center. While most who know him might think he would try and exercise via dance to train his body, Darin tries to sneak off (poorly) to a meditation room. There, he sits with a number of raw materials; a slab of iron, some mahogany, and a little bit of brass. In silence, he picks each one up individually, reverently, and uses his magic to manipulate them. To mold them, reshape them, to break them down and recombine them. He's quietly sharpening his focus and training his magic so that it takes much less of a physical toll on him. If one were to peek in, they'd notice flashes of bright blue; sparks and arcs of magical power rising from his frame as he works; almost reminiscent of a tesla coil. Don't worry about disturbing him, though. Absolutely nothing could ever possibly go wrong.

Right?

Wildcard!
[OOC: Want to plan or do something else? Feel free to hit me up at bitterbearface!]

BODY SLAMS INTO SPACEPORT

[shiro2hero]

Look, the spaceman is drawn to spaceports. It's like a moth to flame. With his arm tucked in a sling to keep the weight of it off his shoulder again, he's been watching the ships come in and out since he woke up in one of the residences. Sleeping for about twenty hours straight makes you a little disoriented. Still completely worn out from powering up the Ingress Memorial.

He's sort of resigned himself to being here without the others. Resigned himself to another broken promise. After the forest and the impressive nap, he hasn't had time to find anyone yet.

At least until someone starts calling out to passersby. That gets his attention.

"Darin?"

Ginko | OTA | March 6-12

[notyetsore]

Ginko trusts… nothing about this place. He doesn’t like it. And he absolutely does not want to be involved with all this… aggressive organization.

Obviously, the solution is to live out in the woods.

Which is… a pretty miserable experience, he’ll admit. He’s pretty sure it’s actually worse than living in the woods back in Japan had been. But-- there is one advantage. The houses just nearby have food. And their inhabitants are out at very predictable times each day. And, so far as he can tell, nobody here seems to lock their doors.

So, for the first several days of the crew’s time on Namalos, Ginko settles into sort of a pattern. The first time he sneaks into one of the houses, keeping an eye out for anyone around, he gets hold of a blanket, and bundles a small amount of food in it. From there, he sticks to the woods as much as he can - but, every day or two, it might be possible to catch him slipping into one of the vacant houses, a different one each time. He never takes much in one go, just intending to get enough to tide him over (and some to slip to the sheep still mostly kept in his pac-disc).

Everything about this sucks, frankly, but you know what, he can deal with it.