( november intro log )

[hownkai]

Who: Everyone
When: November 1st and on
Where: The ship and on planet
What: Exploration + new arrivals
Warnings: Please label any warnings you have on your threads

THE INFLUX

"It is not so much about beginnings and endings; it is about muddling through the middle."

The Ingress has pulled you in. Your body experiences several sensations at once: being pushed forward as if a hand is resting on your back, momentary and startling blindness, a gentle ringing in your head. You have difficulty discerning whether it is hot or cold, but where you have been prodded is noticeably warmer than the rest of you. Some may suffer from dizziness while others are perfectly fine. Once equilibrium has been reestablished, you will notice you are standing on a long platform and that the room is filled with a soft cerulean light. It's slightly humid and dark despite the glow around you, and nothing is familiar.

Welcome to Caducus Primary

Shortly after your arrival, you are met by one of the captains and any of the crew of the Moira who might have accompanied him. You are given a brief physical scan and are asked to sign a contract that states you are now part of the Moira with a specific job. This process consists of a complete work-up of medical history and current health, and afterwards, you are given your MID, a device that is integrated into your hand with only the slightest pinch. Much like the Moira's own Ingress, C-Primary's Ingress seems to be malfunctioning, and nothing can return through it. If you choose to disregard this offer, you will be detained indefinitely by the natives of Caducus Primary. (Joining the Moira is really the only choice you have.)

DESCENSION

"I am the keeper of fragile things."

From a distance, Caducus Primary doesn't look like much. The weather on the planet is extremely stable, and the vegetation is neat, almost pristine. What stands out about C-Primary, however, is the fact that there are hundreds of VERY TALL buildings packed together in many of the cities. They are elevated about the ground on what appear to be stilts and sway almost gracefully in the gentle breeze that is always present. Their stability never wavers; they don't fall down. The streets are lined with beautiful sculptures that are placed wherever light is needed. Many other designs can be found outside as well as in. This planet is rather wealthy, and the abundance of their natural resources reflect in everything. The world glitters just as glass would in the sunlight.

Native Details
● They have darker skin tones, but their hair styles and colors are all as unique as they can make them. This can be seen as influence from other travelers.
● Friendly, welcoming, and encouraging to the crew to trade with them for what they need.
● There are no visible "poor" areas.
● Calm and organized. If lost or in need of directions, they will offer to take you where you are going.
● Vey strict when it comes to rules. (Trade what you say you're going to trade.)

☄CITY PROPER

There are many things to do once on planet. In the city proper, stepping into one of the multiple shops reveals workers crafting glass figurines, jewelry, cups, and other items to your specifications. Trading is the same as on all other planets—there is no one accepted monetary unit. Yet, any unsavory cargo (such as weapons, explosives, alcohol, and drugs) will not be found anywhere in the vicinity of these areas. Other travelers have set up places outside the cities near transporter zones for these particular necessities. Trade at your discretion. At night, if you catch your reflection in a surface that isn't quite as transparent (on a sculpture, the side of a building, anything made of glass), there will be a momentary glimpse of your past or future self. A blink, and then, it will be gone.

Staying on the Moira isn't required during time spent on Caducus Primary. Visit one of its many fine hotels with its beautiful accomodations. The price is remarkably inexpensive: it's free.

( OOC: For any and all questions and to see new rank privileges, go here. Please comment to activity check to receive new ranks (if applicable)! Check THIS to see your tag. They have already been added to the comms, but you'll have to tag them onto a post before they show up in the list. )

Comments

[gamora]

( she doesn't do approval without exceptional and extraordinary cause, but there's a dim flicker of something that isn't overwhelming disdain across her face when he approaches her. acceptance, maybe, which doesn't vanish completely as she deftly plucks the knife from his grip. gamora likes people with an eye for weaponry, even more if they're smart and don't beat about the bush with what one does with sharp, pointy objects.

her cursory glance of him takes a split second longer as well, eyes drifting to the weapons on his hip before going back to his face -- blank eyes making the movements of her gaze difficult to track. terran? possibly -- for a moment she's reminded of pip: short stature, overlarge head, hard to pin an age to. but he's wearing more clothes than the troll, even that horrid vest he'd worn the last time she'd seen him. a mystery, then, and some long buried part of her brain attempts to wake up at that before she stops it back down viciously.

the handle gives away completely under her own forceful examination, and one corner of her mouth turns upwards into something like a smile but very much not. dropping the now broken knife unceremoniously back on the vendor's display, she plucks a more finely crafted knife from further back. )

And then what's the point of going for a knife rather than a simple decapitation?

( she misses her proper sword. not the one she has strapped to her back, but the one she'd had since she was a child, refashioned. gamora repeats the gesture with the new knife, but this time she raises a brow ever so slightly in miles' direction. go on, small human. do your thing. )

[forwardmomentum]

Exactly, [ miles says, as if this is a perfectly ordinary conversation to have with a total stranger. he grins. ] It's nice to have alternatives, I suppose. Decapitations can be kind of messy -- one can only stand to replace the carpet so many times before it gets tedious.

[ he punctuates this with a dramatic sigh, but then gamora's lifting a new knife and he only has the time to suck in a sharp breath ensure he keeps perfectly still when she hurls it. he lets it out slowly after the thunk sounds above his head -- perhaps a centimeter higher this time -- but he sidesteps away from the wall support before he tugs the knife free, giving gamora an exasperated and strained grin. ]

I'd be happy to keep advising you, madam, but I'd prefer if you picked a target a little farther than my head next time. I'm rather fond of it. [ he examines the knife briefly, balancing it in his hand experimentally before raising an eyebrow up at her. ] If decapitation is more your thing, why not go with something a little bigger than this? As long as you're shopping.

[gamora]

Isn't everyone. What makes yours worth saving?

( it's not a question she's particularly interested in hearing the answer of, but at his question she grins. oh yes, miles, she has an answer for that. gamora makes to turn away from him. only she doesn't, one hand going up to the hilt of her sword hidden by most of her cape, and with one smooth motion she draws it before burying it in the ground in front of them with a satisfactory thunk. well made but plain, it's clearly a two-handed sword, and seen a decent amount of use. )

I've already got one.

[forwardmomentum]

Nothing more than anyone else's, except that I've still got it on my shoulders.

[ and all things considered, that's fairly impressive. but survival isn't a meritocracy.

miles' brows go up when she draws the sword, and he lets out a low, appreciative whistle, tracking the sword with his eyes until it's stuck in the ground between them. he peers at it with an appraising look. ]

I don't usually see galactics carrying swords, let alone anything this nicely crafted. I'll admit, I'm not much of an expert on heavier weapons like this, though, most of the swords you see on Barrayar are of a rather lighter construction... May I?

[ he glances up at her for her permission. can he look at your sword closer, gamora. can he touch it ]

[gamora]

An accomplishment only for those who put it in danger often.

( so do you, small man? but she does appreciate someone who knows a good sword when they see it. his words indicate, though, that he's not from a planet or world where people stay on it all their lives, and that much endears him slightly more towards her. galactic terrans are, in her experience, at least well aware of their insignificant and interchangeable place in the universe. )

I was raised to be able to kill with anything. Swords make a statement when everyone else prefers to shoot at you or use whatever cosmic powers they have at their disposal. ( try and kill her, if you dare. she's still alive in a universe where a sword is easily outclassed. ) You may. ( a rare privilege indeed, miles. ) Barrayar. Not Earth. And yet you are terran, are you not?

[forwardmomentum]

I quite agree.

[ so that's your answer, gamora. it's clear she fits into that category as well; miles would hardly challenge that. his mouth twitches at her explanation, a small shift in expression but one that certainly marks respect with an echo of amusement. not at her expense, of course. it's just that there's a distinctly barrayaran tang to the sentiment, one that slightly homesick miles finds refreshing. the slight grin that follows is all she gets in response to that before he steps in closer to the sword, bending to inspect it more closely.

it really is a fine piece of work, though miles is far from an expert; what he can tell is that it's seen plenty of use, and rather than looking the wearer for it, it seems to have toughened with age and experience. miles runs a light finger experimentally along the edge of the blade, pulling his hand back and rubbing thumb against forefinger to feel the shallow slice in the first layer of skin. alright, so the woman doesn't mess around with her weaponry. she doesn't mess around much at all, miles can tell. ]

Ah -- if by that you mean, am I human? Then yes, I am. [ miles studies the hilt work with obvious interest, though he tears his eyes away to look back up at gamora. ] That's right, Barrayar. It's just one of the several dozen colonized planets in the nexus. Colonized by humans, that is.

[ to miles, that's a given, but obviously the stipulation needs to be made elsewhere. ]

[gamora]

( so a little man who finds himself in over his head. can't be that difficult, but getting out of it? and what sort of danger? gamora finds not caring about things and people to be the safest route in a galaxy that habitually takes what she loves away from her, and so she resolutely decides that she's not going to care about how he's gotten into whatever he has. curiosity is something gamora's ignore before, she can do it here, too.

the remark about colonizing planets makes her eyebrows raise in skepticism. humanity. colonizing. hah. )

Funny. I thought any respectable galaxy would have been too crowded for colonization by such a race that only manages one or two individuals past its solar system. ( terrans on multiple worlds. flark, that sounds awful. ) You're short for one of them.

( her two guides for this are peter quill and richard rider, both who top out at over six feet. sorry miles. )

[forwardmomentum]

[ he sees that minute change in her expression, the skepticism bordering on scorn in the arch of her eyebrows. miles has seen it before, in one form or another. he grins sharply up at her. ]

Oh, it's plenty crowded. [ he says it in a tone of amiable agreement, giving a little nod. ] With us humans, that is. We've spread quite far, thanks to the wormhole nexus.

[ almost like cockroaches, he almost says, but he bites back the giddy urge and returns his attention to her sword. her comment about his height seems to merely pass through him. ]

So I've been told. Where did you get such a fine piece of work, anyway?

[gamora]

( oh, that's so wrong. her lip curls up in displeasure and distaste; at least it sounds like they managed some sort of mass space travel. not that it's saying much, because terrans. she'd spent a year or two on his planet and that was quite enough for her, and she'd spent it in one of the more interesting places. )

More empty than crowded, if there's only your kind. No matter how far you've spread.

( but moving on from that huge, terrible fact of his universe. )

Knowhere. It's a replacement. ( she says, with obvious regret. ) I had its predecessor since I was a child -- it was a gift from Thanos. Able to kill anything that could die, no matter how powerful.

( this means more in a universe where it's really hard to kill people, herself included, alright. )

[forwardmomentum]

[ considering gamora's apparent disdain for humanity, miles feels this conversation is going rather well. he snatches his hand back at that succinct and effective explanation, his eyebrows rising a little. ]

That's...quite the weapon. One would think such a blade would be, er, irreplaceable. I stand corrected. [ he does glance up at her with intent curiosity, though. sorry, gamora, military-mad barrayar has conditioned miles to be automatically attracted to a woman who can kill things in one blow. ] So this Thanos -- did he teach you to use it, too?

[gamora]

( gamora forgives you a lot for not being so earth-centric, which is really where most humans trip up. the galactic ones aren't so bad -- they've got a sense of scale. )

He did. ( she shrugs with one shoulder before pulling the blade free of the ground and sliding it back into its sheath. ) I received instruction in most of the martial arts my galaxy has to offer, and as many weapons as he could find. Hand-to-hand is where I excel.

( and yet.. still with the sword. no one said this had to make sense ok. )

[forwardmomentum]

[ she is remarkably short-worded, but then, miles is no stranger to laconic women. he grins. ]

I see you are a woman of many talents. I'm impressed. [ he sweeps her a sketch of a bow, though he's careful to keep his eyes on her. you know, just in case she decides to throw any more knives. she's still an unknown quantity -- for now, anyway. ] Miles Vorkosigan. Might I have your name?

[ he damn nearly calls her 'miss', but bites it back at the last second. probably not the right move here. ]

[gamora]

Vorkosigan.

( a small, shallow nod of acknowledgment. wise, miles, not going with miss. gamora will accept 'lady', though, for future reference. )

Gamora.

( just. gamora. )

[forwardmomentum]

A pleasure, Gamora.

[ he definitely does not let the private little thrill at her acknowledgment show on his face. he swallows that back and bats the thought away immediately. instead he flashes her a blinding grin, seeing the MID on her wrist, and taps his own. ]

Well, I ought to get back topside for my shift. But, if you ever need more weapon advice -- you can find me at the bar. Perhaps I'll set up something for target practice -- on a far well safe away from my head, of course.