thisavrou_log | ( 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

"At the very least they should have started paying you after you were reinstated and especially after the Reapers started attacking." He unsnaps his greaves and grabs one of the bags, mandibles set against his face in displeasure. "You spearheaded the anti-Reaper operations and coordinated diplomatic talks. You ARE the war effort."

It didn't stop being frustrating hearing all the ways the Council had cut Shepard off from resources she should've had access to. It's hard not to frame every event as things that shouldn't have happened if only he hadn't turned his back on Saren that fateful day on Eden Prime.

Just. Damn it all. Damn his mentor. Damn his fool self for ever trusting the bastard.

He finishes tucking pieces of his hard suit and pistol away into the bags and straightens up, looking over the pile silently for a moment.

"Well," the Spectre starts in a slightly lighter tone, reaching up to pull he thermal's zip tab down. "You might want to avert your eyes for a while here."

The first Shepard hadn't really been too comfortable when he'd mentioned Garrus being 'cute'. It's only fair to warn this one just in case she was just as squeamish.

As much as the lack of Council-provided resources chafed her, she could at least see some positives to not receiving the pay during wartime. As long and the resources were being funneled towards war efforts, what was she going to do with the extra money? She smiles wryly at Nihlus as he rants, feeling somewhat vindicated by his cold fury. It was always nice to have people on your side. But I probably could've done with spending less time hacking Cerberus safes. At this point, she felt intimately familiar with all modern forms of money protection, from credit chits to high-tech security vaults. Somewhere, Kasumi Goto was smiling.

She's pulling her thermals the rest of the way off when Nihlus warns Shepard off, and fixes him with a bemused expression, eyes crinkled with good humor. "Why? Did all that talk of Council politicking get you going?" Folding her thermals up, she lovingly wraps her pistol amongst them, and pops them in the bag. All that was left was her underwear and bra. "Or is it my waist? Maybe I should've warned you."

Shepard earns herself a mysterious glance and a coy little slant of a mandible. Like she would know if anything got him going: playing keep away with the sexy bits was a proud and long standing Turian tradition.

That said, council politicking was pretty much the opposite of arousing.

"You two are so different," he says instead of answering that, shrugging his thermals off and revealing the broad, tattooed expanse of his dark shoulders. "Your other looked ready to blast herself out the nearest airlock when I called another Turian 'cute'."

That IS a nice waist, though.

Different. It's a strange thing to consider — that they could lead such differing lives, experiences, and opinions, yet be so much the same. Her "other" did occasionally come across as a tad standoff-ish, but considering her history, it didn't strike her as out of line. As for not finding Turians cute... well, she's entitled to be wrong. Shepard shakes her head and smiles, speaking as she wriggles out of her one and only bra.

"She had a pretty different childhood to myself. I grew up on stations and cruisers, but she had some pretty traumatic encounters with other species early on. Stuff like that marks you — might still be on her mind."

Free of the constraints of the bra, she wraps her left arm around her breasts more on reflex than any kind of embarrassment. Her underwear come off in one swift motion in the other hand, and both garments are dumped unceremoniously in the hazmat bag. Denuding complete, she strikes a pose reminiscent of the Birth of Venus.

"Usually I at least get a paper apron for this, these days. Feels like I'm back in basic all over again."

"The reaction was oddly extreme for someone who's worked with Garrus for a good while." Nihlus slides his sleeves off and pulls the thermals down to his waist. "Considering his attractiveness by my species' standards, I'd have thought she'd at least be pretty inured to mentions of it."

Seriously though, a silvery Palavenian man with Cipritine's blood colored tatts and those fancy blue eyes? He remembers there being extranet discussion groups dedicated to gushing about how beautiful the Vakarian siblings were.

"Hah. If this were a Hierarchy ship, we'd be getting a dedicated suit just for the occasion. Nudity taboo, I do not miss you."

He undoes the zip that held the thighs of his thermals together above the spur. Then he slips his thumbs down the waistband of his briefs and thermals and finishes his own denuding with a well practiced set of kick-wiggling that came with a lifetime of having to deal with clothing articles, limited amounts of time and said inconveniently located spurs.

Shepard gets to be the first human on the Moira to find out his tatts go all the way down. How about that?

"It was pretty weird to find out the Alliance had open showers but didn't allow different sexes into the same space though."

Garrus was considered attractive by Turian standards? She can't hide her eyebrows arching at that, or the pleased little smile that flashes across her face. He was attractive by her standards, but it was nice to know his own species appreciated that fringe, too. Several conversations about scars replay themselves in her head, unbidden, and she struggles to keep a straight face, a thousand questions blossoming in her mind.

Well, here's the perfect opportunity to quiz a Turian about that isn't Garrus about, well... — she lets her eyes trail as surreptitiously up and down Nihlus' entire tattooed body as she can, a sudden frisson running down her spine — everything.

Nope. Maybe, maybe someday, but here, now, like this? Not a chance in hell. Certain she'd already given away too much, she fixes her eyes on the distance, and tilts her head as if she's thinking about good times, and not cold showers.

"Usually when people talk to me about Garrus, it's either what a good shot he is, or how much they want to kill him. This is actually the first time anyone's brought up his looks." Not completely true, but functional. Kelly just wanted to give him a hug, or... something. She pushes that thought out of her mind, too.

"Humanity's broken down a lot of barriers, but sometimes I wonder if they'll ever make it over their own self-imposed ones. Are Turian showers shared? You mentioned something about a nudity taboo?" Those two are at least generic enough.

"Hah! Well," Nihlus laughs as he stuffs the thermals into a bag. "Putting it that way, I do recall his Spectre candidacy eval being something like 'great at shooting but is a little shit'. He always did try to give old Pallin trouble, too. Pallin's got ten grandkids on top of his usual job of giving crims the red tape though, so it backfires a lot."

He can just about feel Shepard's eyes burning into his back there, though.

Casting a sideways glance at her, Nihlus takes in the awkward stance and the pointedly distant expression. His green eyes glimmer with just the barest hint of mischief before he makes a casual show of stretching his arms out, flexing the smooth scales and muscles on his back that his tatts perfectly accentuated.

"Turian showers are neutral but Hierachy space ones usually come with stalls that have enough space to towel off and change," he explains, running his hands over the curve of his hips, then along his thighs and his long shins as he reaches down to touch his toes. "Not always practical in a military setting, but they sure do try."

Sorry, were you trying not to stare there, Shepard?

( april event log )

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