thisavrou_log | ( april event log )

Entry tags:

( april event log )

Who: Everyone
When: April 14th and on
Where: The Moira + Del Pascia
What: The prison isn't all that contained after all.
Warnings: For the (sort of) undead, possible violence, and nudity. Please label your content!

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revive the risk
"Big things have small beginnings."

Things have been going relatively well for the crew of the Moira thus far despite their current circumstances. With D-E-L’s help, many supplies have already been gathered, and those with the necessary components have begun making much needed repairs. Yet, things aren’t as peaceful on Del Pascia as they might have seemed.

The resident facility AI has slowly started growing more and more unresponsive to questions, often answering in rather irritated tones and short, snippy answers. Still, no system glitches appear across the prison except for one minor detail: random doors and hallways suddenly lock and close for no reason and don’t open again for varying amounts of time—ranging from minutes to hours. Does this have anything to do with the unsettling feeling some crew members have experienced since stepping foot onto Del Pascia? Or is there a simple explanation that can be easily chalked up to as an accident?

☄ DECONTAMINATION #2 ( 04.14 - 04.17 )

On the Moira, crew come and go without much hassle. They take a transporter to planets and moons and back again without any fuss... Until today. All crew that try to reboard the Moira coming back from Del Pascia will be denied access, a warning flashing on their MID - Decontamination Required for Entry. It’s a protocol that hasn’t been enacted before, and the MID offers no explanation as to why it is now. The transporter will seal and then be permitted to dock in the Cargo Bay, where the procedure will begin. All crew on the transporter have to dispose of their clothing by placing it inside hazardous waste bags located in a compartment near the front of the craft. After all clothing is stored, a gas-like substance will fill the transporter, breathable yet tasteless, and once it dissipates, crew will be free to go.

Other crew members will be waiting in the cargo bay with clothing and blankets, per the captain’s instruction, but no clear explanation will be given for this sudden new protocol aside from “potential health risks”.

☄ D.ON'T E.VER L.EAVE ( 04.18 - 04.23 )

After the decontamination procedures for the Moira go off, the captains issue a ship-wide alert to let the crew know that the ship is picking up on something inside each person that boarded the space station. It is speculated that the crew came in contact with an unknown biological contaminant either during the station’s decontamination procedure or sometime after. At this point, they aren’t aware of what will happen to those that are carrying the contaminant, and the captains ask for anybody with experience to head to the Medbay to begin testing. Crew don’t appear to be in any danger, so they are allowed to continue gathering materials and supplies on board the space station at their discretion. (Every time they come and go, they will be made to go through the procedure described above).

Any crew remaining on Del Pascia will find that D-E-L is more vocal than ever before. It is answering questions, as well as trying to convince crew members to abandon the Moira and take up permanent residence aboard the space station.

☄ FEAR ME, LOVE ME, DO AS I SAY ( 04.24 - 04.28 )

Like most unfortunate things, it seems everything happens all at once.The noises you heard, a step falling moments after yours or a rattle coming from the vents, become louder. You can’t place where they are coming from at first. You turn, you follow, but the search yields no results. And then, without any warning, it’s crystal clear as “they” begin to creep and move from within the shadows and ruined sections of Del Pascia: the prisoners and workers said to have been relocated by D-E-L. Their voice is one, regardless of how many gather, and they tell you, “You can be happy here” and “I can make you better” shortly after.

Worse than the way they speak in unison is the way they look. Mutated and deformed, their prison uniforms are in tatters and covered in various levels of the same blood that the crew has experienced during their time on Del Pascia while visiting the prison blocks. They don’t attack to kill; they only try to detain, to drag crew members further into the station and are methodical and precise in how they do this as if they’re being controlled by something greater and much smarter than them.

To those that fight, D-E-L’s voice will call out, telling the Moiran not to struggle, to stay here and be safe, be better. The AI explains that life there on Del Pascia is easy, peaceful, and nobody will cause you pain. Suffering is a thing of the past and loneliness is something you’ll never know again. The prisoners follow the command of the AI, its voice falling from their lips. D-E-L claims they feel no pain, no hunger. They are united in one purpose and are therefore free of all strife. Wouldn’t it be nice to be free like that?

As always, fearing for the safety of the crew (and despite the disrepair of the Moira from events prior), the captains ask for all those capable to assist with extracting those aboard Del Pascia as quickly as possible before D-E-L tries to lock them inside. Running, after all, is better than dying, and it’s certainly something everyone aboard the Moira has gotten quite good at.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ She can't help it, she has to let out a quiet snort of laughter. ]

You're pretty handy to have around.

[ The direct approach honestly reminds her a little bit of Jessica. She'll have to tell her sister that when she gets out of this mess. And once Jessica stops berating her for going to the station in the first place when she knew it would be dangerous. ]

[ The laughter surprises him, and he actually stops to look at her, almost confused. It's not a sound he tends to hear much, or even at all. People don't exactly find humor in having a giant green monster this near them, especially in what's already a dangerous situation in and of itself, as is the case right now.

He just grunts at her this time, continuing to create a new path for them, stopping once or twice on the way just to make sure they're headed in the right direction, not listening quite as attentively to the voices now, when he's feeling confident enough that they lost them. Either that, or they just gave up. ]

[ It's a coping mechanism, sort of borrowed from Jessica's habit of turning everything into scathing sarcasm. Everything she knows about bravery tends to come back to her sister one way or another, really.

The Hulk is a little hard to keep up with, for obvious reasons, and while she is making her way through one hole he is already through the next, which is when she is suddenly tugged back, an arm closing over her throat, hands gripping her arms, dragging her along. Where the hell did they come from? ]

Hulk!

[ The sounds of the group and Trish's voice all come at once. He turns around almost instantly, reflexes kicking in before he's even fully processing what's happening. One foot raising above her, it comes down on top of the group, either crushing them or forcing them to step back. A hand swats at one that's closer to her and gripping at her shoulder, forcefully shoving them away, but more keep coming, clinging to the Hulk's leg and trying to climb up on him like they're mad or possessed— or both.

Swiftly, he uses that same hand to scoop her up from the ground, no time to warn her beforehand, shoving away the last few still holding onto her in the process. ]

Hulk carry!

[ With what he considers a proper announcement, he kicks away the prisoners and workers clinging to his leg, then promptly turns around to go through the hole he'd made just moments ago, faster this time. He can't risk them catching up again.

Better hold on tight, because it's gonna be a bumpy ride. ]

[ If her choice is between a pair of big, blood spattered arms keeping her safe and several pairs of smaller blood spattered arms tearing her apart she is definitely going to go with the protective gore, even though it is only just now registering with her just how much of it there is on Hulk.

Poor Bruce. The thought flickers through her mind as she wraps her arms around the Hulk's neck and curls up in a ball in his grasp, making herself as small as she possibly can. ]

[ Bruce knows the blood is there already, and he also knows why. At least as the Hulk that thought isn't too present, and the monster himself isn't aware of what she can see. Even if he were, he wouldn't really care much.

With one hand holding her close, opening new passageways is a little slower, but at least he can cross rooms or go down long hallways in a much faster pace, even running when he knows he has the room to do it somewhat safely. After a few minutes, he walks through a hole to find a row of others already made, and following his ear he figures they'll take them right to the transporters.

He lets out a sound akin to relief, then takes off through those holes, running again now, only slowing down when he needs to squeeze through a more oddly shaped passage without getting her hurt. ]

[ Seems like it's her fucking fate or something to always have people stronger than her getting her out of dangerous situations. She hates it. This time she can't blame anyone but herself of course, but she still wishes with every cell in her body that she could get to do the saving just once in a while, or that she at least could save herself.

It's amazing, really, how relatively gentle the Hulk is with her, the care he takes to make sure that she isn't hurt as they make their way toward the transporters. There's more to the big guy than people think, she decides. More than Bruce thinks.

She closes her eyes and presses herself tightly against the Hulk, hanging on for dear life and praying to no one in particular that he won't suddenly for some hulky reason decide that he would rather smash her into a wall than keep her safe. ]

[ He won't, and Bruce is sure enough of it that he lets this happen. If there were any risk that the Hulk would just snap, he'd have set Trish down and let her go back on her own, simply following behind to be sure she wouldn't get attacked, rather than letting the Hulk carry her all the way there himself.

The AI's voice turns into a distant echo the closer they get to the transporters, the sound of their engines loud. There, they don't find anyone, neither prisoners or workers, nor crew members from the Moira. Carefully, he sets her down just near the ramp. The transporter is large, but certainly not large enough for him, not until he turns back to Bruce— and besides, it was never his plan to go back to the Moira with her. He still has other people to get out of here. ]

Go. [ He struggles a little with the words, like he does with most everything he says, as if he's not entirely capable of speech. He shakes his head, a big hand gesturing vaguely at the inside of the transporter. ] Hulk stay.

Before I go, could you bend down a little?

[ She doesn't really expect him to actually do it, because why would he, but it's worth a shot. ]

So your face is a little more on my level, I mean.

[ It's a strange request, and as with everything, it takes him a moment to understand it, and then to figure out if she means what he thinks she means. Surprising to her or not, he does as she asks, lowering himself onto his knees and leaning forward.

She wanted him at eye level? Well, she has him at eye level. Hopefully she won't be scared of having the Hulk this close to her face, so close that she can see the bright green mixed with faint traces of brown in his eyes. ]

[ It's a poweful thing, to have a giant kneel at her request. She's not scared, not right now. Maybe he will frighten her again somewhere down the line, but in this moment the Hulk doesn't feel the least bit like a threat.

Carefully she cradles that big face in her hands, and she leans closer still to kiss him on both cheeks, briefly touching his forehead with her own. ]

Thank you.

[ Kindness isn't something the Hulk's used to, and he's rarely ever on the receiving end of a gentle touch. When she cradles his face, he closes his eyes, and for a moment memories of someone else entirely flood his mind. Brief, flickering— Trish isn't the same person, he realizes, but oddly enough the sentiment is very close.

There's no green in his eyes when he opens them again. They're brown just like Bruce's, and one of his large hands lifts up, a finger lightly ghosting her hair. It's little more than a second, then he blinks again, shakes his head and forces himself onto his feet.

It's too soon to go back to normal, he's not done yet. He lets out a grunt and waits for her to get into the transporter, turning around and stepping through the hole in the wall again. ]

[ Trish doesn't really want company when she gets back to the Moira, so she makes her way to Bruce's room rather than her own. She more or less lives there now anyway, though it hasn't been officially discussed yet. She takes a shower to try to get the feeling of the prisoners' hands off her skin, and borrows a t-shirt and sweatpants from Bruce. He won't mind, she's sure.

She isn't sure why the photo album catches her eye, maybe because it's similar to the one she got in the mail herself.

Curiosity makes her take it down, and she carries it over to the bed. The first thing that happens when she opens it, is that a couple of pictures fall out. She picks them up, frowning when she sees that they are of her. How the hell did they end up in there?

Shaking her head, she puts the loose pictures away on the nightstand and starts to turn pages, smiling as she sees pictures of Baby Bruce and his mother. She hopes he won't mind her looking, she is just so charmed by getting to see all these Bruces she never got to meet.

Then of course there are the pictures of him and Betty, which is the point where she decides to close the album.

There is some regular old jealousy in what she feels in that moment for sure, but what really gets to her is that whoever that beautiful, smiling woman is, and whatever happened to make her no longer play that part in his life... what they had can't be erased. It will be with Bruce forever.

Trish has already been wiped from his life once, he lived a whole year with no thought of her entering his mind.

Banner the kitten comes to butt his head against her hand, and she slides down under the covers and curls up, petting him until eventually she drifts into a restless sort of sleep. ]

[ It's a while before the Hulk turns back to Bruce, and Bruce himself finally goes back to the ship. He's tired but there's also a sense of accomplishment there, that he managed to help out without losing control or things going sour. Everything went exactly as according to plan, and that's a feeling he doesn't often get, but always appreciates.

He goes back to his room for a shower and a change of clothes, fully planning on finding Trish once he's out of the loose-fitting sweatshirt and pants he has on right now. But it seems like she's found him instead, and when he steps into the room and notices a human-sized lump on his bed, he doesn't even ask if it's her. He knows.

Rounding the bed, he sits by the edge, catching the album resting over the covers at the corner of his eye but ignoring it in favor of stroking her hair, slowly leaning down to press a kiss to her temple. ]

[ She wasn't sleeping very deeply, so his tender gesture is enough to drag her out of her flimsy dreams. She blinks a few times, letting out a sleepy little noise as she wipes the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. Jesus, was she drooling? Please say it isn't so. ]

Hi.

[ She kind of was, yes. But for what it's worth, Bruce thinks it's cute rather than anything else. He smiles at the lazy greeting, his hand sinking to the mattress next to her. ]

Hey, sleepyhead.

[ The little ball of fur curled up against her shifts, and Bruce glances down, then back up. ]

I see I'm a little late for the cuddling party.

[ She would say that he only thinks that because he's a little stupid from "we just started dating" mushy feelings.

She looks down at the kitten too, and then smiles up at Bruce. ]

Shit, I told him to go hide in the closet if you got home. Guess we're busted.

[ It has absolutely nothing to do with the Honey Moon syndrome. Even if he has that bad too.

His smile turns to a grin, and he shakes his head, unable to look or even sound remotely upset. ]

You break my heart, I hope you know that. Guess I should leave you two alone...?

What, you're not going to fight for me? Wuss.

[ That grin makes her feel all warm and bubbly inside, and she is so, so glad that she can be the cause of such a joyful expression coming from him. ]

We don't have to. I'm sure we can share, and that way you can have two Banners instead of one.

[ Sounds like a pretty great deal, honestly. And Bruce doesn't really want to force the little guy out of the bed when he's enjoying his cuddling spot so much. ]

That does sound nice.

[ She gently scratches the top of the kitten's head a little. ]

I think he's decided that he doesn't mind that I come here.

I think at this point you spend more time here than he does.

[ A bit of a street cat, if not for the fact that that Moira doesn't really have streets. But the little guy enjoys running around a lot, and often spends whole days and nights in the gardens, together with the other kitties. Bruce doesn't mind, he likes that he's independent, and this way Bruce still gets to enjoy his alone time— as well as his 'together with Trish' time.

He stands up again, doing quick work of toeing off his shoes, then undressing down to his underwear, throwing on just a large t-shirt and going back to the bed so he can crawl underneath the covers. Screw the shower, he can do that later. ]

[ Does she obviously and unashamedly ogle him while he undresses? Why yes, yes she does. ]

I have a lot of very compelling reasons to be here.

[ Well, he kind of expects that, so he doesn't mind. He might even undress a little slower just to be a tease. ]

Other than the kitty cuddling?

[ He says that jokingly, of course, shifting beneath the covers until he's fitting his body against hers, a hand reaching over her to get the album from the bed and set it on the nightstand without a word about it. If she doesn't want to talk about it, he won't say anything either. ]

[ She really doesn't mind getting a bit of a show. Not at all. ]

Well, there's this guy who comes here too sometimes. I'm pretty fond of him.

[ She kind of does want to talk about it a little, but she sort of needs to work her way up to it a bit. ]

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