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

[ Luckily Bruce will be here if she wakes up from a nightmare halfway through the night. One of the advantages of being a light sleeper, the slightest stirring will have him waking up, so she'll find that no matter what, she won't have to deal with it alone. ]

That doesn't really serve as much of a comfort as you think, you know?

Okay how about this: You could inspect every inch of me right now and you wouldn't find anything worse than a bruise. Better?

[ Sleeping with him next to her really is becoming a habit already. He doesn't seem to mind, so she's not too worried about it. ]

Inspect every inch of you? That sounds... kind of nice, actually.

[ He says that in a soft murmur against her lips, partly amused, his hand sliding down and underneath the covers, settling around her waist. ]

But our cuddling buddy might not appreciate all the moving around involved.

[ She laughs a little and gives him a quick peck on the lips. ]

Yeah, he might get a little annoyed.

[ But she's in perfect agreement with him that it does sound pretty nice to have him paying attention to every last inch of her. ]

We can save it for when he decides to move.

[ With a sigh, he nods in agreement, then lets his head sink to the pillow behind her head, his arm curling tight around her middle as he shifts close to her. ]

Agreed. In the morning, maybe.

[ He's feeling pretty tired right now anyway, even if he might not necessarily need to go to sleep yet. They can just cuddle up and talk for a bit, if she wants to. ]

Sounds nice.

[ It almost hurts a little, how happy he can make her feel just by holding her like this. It's almost frightening, but in a good sort of way. ]

You were a cute baby, by the way.

[ Might as well fess up to looking at the pictures. ]

Was I?

[ His voice is soft, but there's just a hint of tension there. Cautiousness, maybe. He doesn't move, though, nose still buried warmly into her hair just behind her ear. ]

I didn't... I didn't go through it yet, actually. [ Too many memories he'd rather be left alone. Or maybe he's just scared of what he might see in there. ] Did you?

[ She strokes the arm embracing her with her fingertips, drawing little patterns of love and reassurance on his skin. ]

Not all of it. Stopped when jealousy overcame my nosiness.

Jealousy?

[ Alright, this time he does lean away a little, glancing briefly over his shoulder before he looks back to her. ]

About what?

[ He has a feeling he doesn't even need to ask, but... ]

[ Okay, how to phrase this in a way that won't put either of them in too awkward a spot? ]

Really?

[ Okay that was a bit of a diplomacy fail... She lets out a small sigh and tries again. ]

You come here, and your ex... is still a part of you. What you had still matters. You go home... and I no longer exist to you. Whatever you feel for me... it goes away.

[ He can probably figure out that there's also just a bit of the regular old "I'm new and here's tangible proof of something super significant that ran really deep and it's a little intimidating" here too. No need to have that talk. ]

[ There's a lot more bite to that single word than Bruce would have expected, and he tenses noticeably, his arm drawing away from her as she follows that thought with an explanation. A very clear explanation too, and Bruce doesn't even need to open that album— he knows with complete certainty that somewhere in there, there are pictures of him and Betty. ]

Trish...

[ He starts, but he doesn't know how to go on with that. His voice catches a little in his throat, particularly at the last of her words, and he's a little at a loss of how to address this. Any of this. ]

I'm— look, I'm not going to lie to you. It matters, yes. She was a very big part of my life and that's not just something someone forgets completely. What we had will never not matter to me. But I'm— I'm with you, and you matter to me too. Even if it's just here, even if I can't remember, you'll always be in my heart, my mind. You'll have mattered, and you will matter.

[ He sits up on the bed, reaching for one of her hands and pressing it to his chest, fingers curling tightly around hers, as if trying almost desperately to keep her there. ]

I can't do anything about what this place does to us when we leave. But I don't want you to keep thinking about it. We can't go on with this while thinking about how it will end, or it will be like it's over already. I don't want that.

I don't want you to forget what you had.

[ She just hates that he's very likely to forget what he has. And that she is too for that matter. ]

I just... wish I could be in your album too.

[ She smiles a little weakly at him. ]

And not just pictures of me as a kid that I have no idea how they got there.

You can be in my album too. You know we're on a spaceship, I'm pretty sure I can find a quality photo printer somewhere. Or build one, if I have to.

[ He would, if only to get that sad look off her face. Her last remark has him looking a little confused, though, and he glances back at the album again. ]

You as a kid, really?

[ He pauses, hesitant. ] Can I see them?

I was trying to be metaphorical, you dork.

[ Which she knows that he knows as well, she's just lightening the mood a bit.

She sits up too, carefully so she doesn't disturb Banner too much, and lifts the photo album to grab the pictures that fell out before.

The first couple of pictures is of Trish without her wig on, smiling. ]

Honestly I have no idea when these were taken. Mom was pretty vigilant about me not having my picture taken without having my wig on...

[ And she didn't often look that happy either so whoever took these pictures got really lucky. ]

Well, I'm being less metaphorical.

[ He smiles a little, and oh she can be sure he's going to get a new album just for them now. If he can't remember her back home, then he'll fill his life here with all kinds of mementos of her.

Shifting so he can lean his back against the headboard of the bed, he takes the pictures when she hands them to him, the smile on those pictures mirrored in his face. ]

Wow. You were really pretty. [ Not that it surprises him. ] You'd have been so out of my league. [ If they were the same age, obviously, which they aren't. ]

As opposed to the ungodly sight I am now.

[ She shakes her head a little, wrinkling her nose. ]

You probably wouldn't have liked me back then anyway. I was kind of a mess.

No, you're gorgeous now. And definitely not jailbait anymore.

[ And he's also not a complete nerd so it all works out wonderfully, if you ask him. As for being a mess, boy... does he have stories to tell her. ]

If you want to talk messes, I'll tell you something about me. [ Just one; no need to spill the entirety of his childhood trauma on her in one go. What he's going to tell her is pretty heavy as it is already, and he hesitates for a moment, understandably so. ] When I was seventeen, I... built a bomb, then tried to blow up my school.

[ She's startled by this revelation, as anyone would be, and for a moment she sort of just stares at him in shock. ]

Why?

[ He presses his lips and shrugs, looking down at the smiling picture of her in his hand. ]

Because I was miserable, and I was a mess. Because at the time I wasn't exactly thinking straight, and it seemed like the only way to end what I went through every day.

[ He sighs quietly, glancing at her finally. When he sees the look on her face, he rushes to add. ]

No one was at the school, for the record. The plan was to blow it up during the night, when it was empty.

[ Save for himself, that is. But he's not going to point that out. ]

[ Well, that sounds a bit more Bruce-like. She'd really been struggling with trying to imagine him wanting to blow people up, no matter how miserable he might have been. ]

I kind of felt that way too at that age. Maybe I would have built a bomb too if I knew how.

[ She leans over to kiss his cheek, just to show him that it doesn't change anything about how she feels about him. ]

[ No, he would have never done that. As much as he hated the bullies that made his teenage years a living hell, he never would've done something to hurt them, and even less so do something that could hurt or kill the hundreds of people that had absolutely nothing to do with the reasons why he built that bomb to begin with. ]

Well, apparently I didn't really know how to build a bomb either.

[ He tries to say that with a little humor, but it falls by the wayside. ]

It was a dud, so it didn't go off. [ Luckily for him, in more ways than just one. He sure is glad about it now. ]

[ She looks at him for a moment, searching for what might be the right thing to say, before eventually giving up and just saying what she feels. ]

I love you, you know that?

[ It can't fix anything that happened to him, it can't heal the hurt or remove the scars, but maybe it can ease the pain a little. ]

[ He smiles at her, gaze warm. It's not about fixing him anyway, it's not about healing old wounds when they're just scars by now. It's about this— about not caring that the wounds and broken parts are there, about being fine with them being there still. ]

I know.

[ And maybe there's a trace of hesitation there, a flicker of fear for something not clearly defined, but that doesn't matter either. He lifts his other hand, settles them both over hers where it rests against his chest, shifting slightly so he can face her more properly. ]

I love you too.

[ It's all who he is, and she loves who he is so the broken bits are as precious to her as any other part, much as she has a bit of a tendency to want to save or fix people. She can't quite help herself, when something is hurting her loved ones she wants to make it all better, so she gets bossy and pushy.

Fortunately, Bruce seems to be able to handle it. ]

Oh, good. That would have gotten really awkward otherwise.

[ How to handle feeling so ridiculously happy that you just might explode or something? Make a joke of course. ]

[ Some things just can't be fixed, and sometimes that's sad, sometimes that's just how life is. Like that song about cracks in everything— not that he always believes it to be true, but it's a nice sentiment. It's a nice thought to have, a good thing to imagine when he's feeling particularly low, and particularly not like himself. That light seeps through the broken parts of him.

He smiles a little more playfully, lips pursing as he shrugs. ]

I was just going to say 'thanks' and go to sleep, but it seemed a little rude to at least not pretend like I feel the same way.

[ Look, he's obviously joking, and obviously being an ass. He probably deserves a shove or something like it. ]

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