thisavrou_log | ( may event log )

Entry tags:

( may event log )

Who: Everyone
When: May 1st and on
Where: The Moira + Amissis-Re
What: The crew finds themselves visiting the very barren planet of Amissis-Re.
Warnings:None, but please label your content!

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far from nowhere
"the trees rustle in the evening when we stand uneasy before our own thoughts."

With the events of Del Pascia behind the Moira, things are only now beginning to settle—and not very well. Through the combined efforts of some of the crew, D-E-L and her permanent residents were incinerated into the dust of space. While it’s not the most peaceful end, it is one, and not many are going to be thinking back on how nice Del Pascia’s facilities were for quite some time. Repairing what they could of the ship’s interior and putting as much distance between the Moira and the prison as possible, those aboard are informed by Navigation that they are approaching another planet. This means, of course, the potential for better supplies, as some things are beginning to dwindle, and the Captains elect to dock so long as the crew follows protocol.

WELCOME TO AMISSIS-RE

Amissis-Re is an unregistered planet with no documented histories or signs of life. The Moira’s Navigation crew have scanned the planet for any usable resources and have discovered a faint signal emitting from beneath the surface of Amissi-Re. Using the transporters and any other crafts located in the Cargo Bay, the crew are able to travel to the source of the signal. Upon arriving in its exact location, they’ll find a small series of lakes that lead to a tower-like structure that appears to be in use. Crew must cross a poorly assembled bridge system that sways and dips when weight is applied to it in order to gain access to the entrance. Once there, a woman comes out to greet them and explains, excitedly, that she is so very happy that they have come to Amissis-Re.

Everyone can go home.

Their host insists that she has done the impossible and has somewhat fixed the Ingress that’s been built on Amissis-Re a long time ago, and what’s more, she can send crew home for short bursts of time. Upon following this woman inside, crew will find that the planet is not, in fact, barren at all. Diving deep into the underbelly of Amissis-Re, it’s like an eternal factory of machines, and while vast, for whatever reason, it also seems incredibly welcoming...

☄ LEAP OF FAITH ( 05.01 and on )

The barren planet of Amissis-Re is devoid of vegetation and organic life except for a lone woman, and the planet itself is an intricate honeycomb of machines that go for miles below the surface. Yet, that seems insignificant and unimportant in comparison to the news that the crew has just received. After Thán has looked at the Ingress, he tells the crew that he cannot say for certain that it is properly functioning, but Emiri native, Ben Link, will volunteer to test it out.

An elevator takes crew down to a glass platform that overlooks an inverted Ingress portal. In order to return home, the Moirans will have to take a leap of faith and jump in. Ben, in order to show his commitment to the crew and willingness to help get them home, takes that jump with Captain Thán seconds behind him. Jumping feels like dropping through wind; lights swirl, it’s warm, and a soft buzzing encompasses you as you fall. You don’t feel the landing. One moment you’re falling, and the next, you’re in a new world.

A few hours pass before a similar elevator rises from below and to the left of the Ingress, stopping beside the platform. Ben and Thán step out unharmed.

It works, and everyone can temporarily go home. Will you jump?

☄ COMBINE THE EXTREMES ( 05.01 and on )

The woman that greeted the crew and led them to the platform will allow anyone that wants to go home the opportunity to go. There’s only one catch: it’s not permanent. She’s worked for years to fix the Ingress so that she can return to her own home but hasn’t been able to make the trip an everlasting one. Everyone always comes back. Always. They go for a few hours, at first, but that amount of time increases with each visit.

The one guideline, she says, is that you can’t go alone. Each trip requires a partner, or it becomes too much for the mind to bear. These rules are simple: the world takes shape depending on who jumps first, but if crew go hand-in-hand and leap at the same time, the worlds combine. This new world will be populated with people that existed in both and may appear to be a jarring combination of both worlds. It may seem unusual, but if the woman is asked, she’ll explain that the combined world does exist as there are more universes than can be imagined. The Ingress tries to take the person to their own home, their original home, but when jumping together, it finds the closest possible match and deposits them there instead.

From that point on, you can travel the world together or split up, but remember, this world is a living, functioning world. It doesn’t matter if it’s the home of one crew member or a combination. You meet other people. You can get hurt. You influence and are influenced by others.

Be cautious, and enjoy your visit “home”.

☄ LINGER ON ( 05.05 and on )

The more times the Amissis-Re Ingress is visited, the more it seems that your trips last longer and the experience becomes even more vivid. More real and harder to distinguish from the current reality that you know. It’s difficult to explain why, but you get the feeling that maybe if you went without the aid of the host, that perhaps you’d be able to stay. Forever. It takes some subterfuge, but in time, you see your chance: she’s nowhere in sight, and you take it.

The world you are in now is completely your own, whether another crew member accompanied you or not. The people you know are there, everything around you is exactly as you remember. A few hours pass, and you don’t feel that familiar tug, that invisible hook at the base of your spine that signals that your visit is over. Even more time goes by, and you’re still in that world, your home. When the first day has passed, you begin to question if you’ll ever go back, or if life on the Moira was all a dream. The person with you won’t be able to convince you otherwise, and they’ll start to feel less real, a stranger that you used to know.

There’s only one way to go back to the Moira. Someone from the other side has to come in and retrieve you both. Once in, contact with a third will jump-start a link through the Ingress, and it will pull all crew back to the platform.

( ooc; For questions, go here. Please comment to activity check to receive new ranks (if applicable)! )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ava stands near Deacon, heart in her stomach as she looks on at the skeletons. The mess around them is heartbreaking enough, years and years of history destroyed and lost forever; the bodies make it all the worse, indication that they have long since been slaughtered and lost to the ages. She can feel Deacon out of sorts before he says anything, his aura pained and uncomfortable in its colors. Ava goes to one of the skeletons and briefly kneels down, reaching out to touch the old bones. This world has things decaying so much quicker, the radiation and heat destroying anything viable. It's terribly sad. Her eyes roam the room, taking in the bodies, and she looks back at Deacon.

"We don't need to stay here." Sure, it's probably safe in here now, but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with. "There's probably a back way out of here we can use. We can go."

"The back way is blocked. There's, like, half a building that collapsed down on that staircase a long time ago, maybe when the bombs fell. But there's a hallway on the other side of these shelves. It leads up to the museum foyer and from there it's easy to get outside."

He's itching to draw his gun, but there's no threat here. The Institute's Coursers have been gone for two decades. He watches Ava lightly touch one of the skeletons, and fuck, he feels guilty for not knowing who is it, like the embarrassment of running into someone you should know but you can't recognize them. As if the skeleton cares. It's stupid.

"You've been here before, then." Which is no surprise, seeing as they were brought here. Ava's never been to Boston; this world is entirely Deacon's, no mixing whatsoever. Still, the way he looks at them... Her gaze is briefly scrutinizing before she rises to her feet, stepping away from the bodies. She doesn't take anything from them or from the facility, deciding instead that it'd be better to let the dead rest where they are.

She lifts her head to look up at the ceiling, briefly contemplative. She wants to ask him where they are and what this place means to him, but right now doesn't seem the right time. Not when they're surrounded by the fallen. "What museum does this open up to?"

"It was the Museum of Fine Arts. I used to live here around twenty years ago. It was great digs, for a while. There was this painting that was only a little burnt, a watercolor that had, like, this golden glow and buildings with pillars. I think it's gone now."

He needs to lighten his mood, keep the "everything's okay" mask on.

"This was definitely the classiest place I ever lived. Makes me want to break out a suit and tie. These days I live in a crypt and that just makes me want to break out a bad Bela Lugosi impression."

"That's a shame. I'd have liked to see it." She tries to remember her art history classes and what the painting might have been. She'll need to look it up later. For now, she'd rather move on, especially with how distressed Deacon is beneath the jovial exterior. His aura is easier to read even if Ava refuses to look into his mind for the answers she wants.

Instead, Ava moves to touch his arm, to both offer comfort and to encourage him to leave with her. Her hand stops just short of touch, recoiling at the very vampiric reference. Her expression doesn't betray much, though the chuckle she gives is awkward, strained.

"If this is the classiest place you've lived in, you must not have high standards. Or much choice." Hand dropping, now uncomfortable and out of place, she glances back at the skeletons. "...You said you lived here twenty years ago. Were you there when this happened?"

"I don't have much opportunity for classy. Living under a donut shop was second best, and fun while it lasted, but definitely not classy."

Maybe if he lies to himself and tells himself that the skeletons are just Old World curators who were defending their museum collections to the death. Immoral looters were after the priceless artifacts, keen to steal humanity's heritage but the dedicated museum workers fought them off, passionate in their belief that history belongs to all. Yeah, it's a nice, completely untrue story.

"It was..." He needs to adjust his words, take into account that he told Ava that he's a synth. "... It was about a year after I escaped the Institute. I'd joined up with the Railroad, and this was HQ. Security was kinda sloppy back then. The Institute came, and with only one way in or out...it was messy."

"Maybe the captains will send us to a fancy party once so you can wear a suit. I bet you'd look pretty sharp." She's far too used to the likes of LaCroix and Strauss, done up in black and red and looking far, far too serious. A real party might be fun...even if the captains have a terrible track record of picking good worlds for them to land on. "A donut shop I could see being fun."

Ava meets his gaze briefly before her eyes turn back to the skeletons. Her gaze visibly softens, obviously saddened. "I'm sorry." She's seen a lot of death before. Seeing skeletons instead of fresh bodies makes it tolerable but no less depressing. "That's awful." But now she's seen what the Institute does to people who want to help synths, and it makes her angry. "They don't... They don't even try to keep people alive, do they?"

"I think I'd rock the double-o seven look. I've never actually tied a tie before, though, so that would be an interesting adventure in possible asphyxiation."

He shrugs at Ava's sympathy. He appreciates the compassion, he really does--all the more because it tends to be so rare in the Commonwealth--but can't let himself think about it too hard, or let himself be too sad or too angry. If he starts he's pretty sure he'll never stop.

"The Institute strategy against their enemies leans towards scorched earth, take no prisoners. I'm actually really fucking proud that they hate us that much that they're super dedicated to slaughtering us all."

That garners another little laugh from her, this time not so strained and cautious. The atmosphere doesn't lend for them to make real jokes, she understands, but this is Deacon's M.O. She really isn't surprised.

Instead, her gaze lingers on the skeletons, mouth set in a firm line. It reminds her of the Sabbat: creatures that will slaughter with abandon and take no prisoners. Nothing is sacred to them. It isn't a good enough analogy, though. The Railroad saves people; the Camarilla is still dark, unfeeling, and deadly.

"Just shows you're doing the right thing. I'm just sorry at the cost." So many good people, lives snuffed out prematurely. "You deserve to be proud of them. And yourself."

He's proud of the Railroad and all the other people in the organization, but he can't be proud of himself. He doesn't really belong with them and someday they might just figure that out and kick him out for good.

The silence has stretched out for too long. He needs to say something.

"We're super close to Diamond City from here. We can grab some noodles and I can show you around one of the less deathy parts of the Commonwealth."

The silence is palpable, telling, and when Deacon changes the subject, she goes along without protest. "Sure. You've told me about a lot of the shit that goes on - I'd love to see something not so shoot-first-ask-later." But there's the rub, she realizes: she can't eat noodles without being sick later. She could try, she guesses, and just blame it on irradiated food...but she also doesn't want to worry him.

"How far is the hike?" And can they do it without getting caught in the sun?

"It's about half a mile. Maybe not even that far."

He traces the path in his mind, thinking through the distance and the possible obstacles.

"There might be some super mutants between here and there, though, so, uh..." He glances around at the skeletal remains, this time with focused purpose. Eventually his eyes settle on a heavily modified .44 revolver. Easy to carry, easy to conceal, packs a big punch, will pair well, strategically speaking, with his sniper rifle. He picks it up and holds it, and some extra ammo for it, out to Ava. He thinks the former owner would approve.

"Just in case we can't sneak past them."

"The big green guys you mentioned before, yeah?" So it's going to be a rough time if they get spotted. She looks up as he pulls a revolver off of one of the corpses, with its ammunition, and hands it to her. Ava's eyes are wide that he'd go ahead and do that, and she could mention disturbing the dead, but now very certainly isn't the time. She reaches for the gun gently, looking it over while she pockets most of the ammunition. Ava inspects it with a briefly critical eye, aware enough of guns to know how it will most be effective. Deacon can cover her and she can do more of the heavy lifting. That's fine with her.

"We can both be quiet. It, hopefully, won't be too difficult to slip past them," she agrees, giving him a nod. "Let's go."

"Yeah. They eat people and are strong enough to tear off limbs, so getting caught by them is...bad. Fortunately they're also kind of dumb and not very perceptive so they're usually easy to avoid."

He picks his way over the shattered relics towards the door. It's secured by a terminal and the Institute Coursers must have changed the password, but this is familiar tech. He knows how to hack this.

"Man, I hope it's not light out. I hate travelling across open spaces when it's light out. It gives me the creeps."

"There's only two of us. They're not going to make a big deal if we get sort of close, right?" She can be optimistic, even if she has a feeling she already knows what the answer to that question is.

With a half-sigh, she follows him to the terminal, practicing holding the gun another moment before she pockets it into her belt and lets him get to work. Behind him, she gives a quick and grateful smile before it's gone. At least he's on her side for that much, if for differing reasons.

"Sewers give you the heebie-jeebies? We can always take that route."

"Even if they're not hungry they really don't like humans. I can't figure out why; we're all so nice and friendly and lovable here." The last said with lilting sarcasm.

"I like sewers. There's a lot of nasty creatures that don't usually show up in sewers. We'll probably run into some radroaches, but those are easy. Maybe ferals, but they don't carry weapons, so as long as you take them out before they reach you, you're good."

"Oh, fantastic," she mutters, rubbing her upper arms briefly. "Ferals and roaches or super mutants." What a fucking choice. But it beats staying here, and she'd like to give the both of them a reprieve from the dust and dead. Still, she doesn't know her way around and doesn't think she'd make a good decision if left up to her.

"You pick, Deacon. I trust whatever decision you make," she says, and means it. He knows his world better than she ever will, after all.

The door to the collections room opens and he steps out into the hallway that leads to the lobby, sniper rifle out just in case something's decided to take up residence here.

"You shouldn't do that, I make terrible life choices. Like drinking beer before liquor, or wearing pastels out of season, or not waiting half and hour after eating to swim."

They're getting out of here, walking away, so his humor is starting to return, a little less forced than before.

"But above ground is going to be a lot faster and more direct, so that's my vote."

On his cue, she draws her gun and follows with caution, eyes scanning the lobby room and her senses open. She doesn't seen auras - so no humans - and the only heartbeat she hears is his own. It's a comfort for the moment to know they're alone and not about to be swarmed.

Unless, of course, ferals and Super Mutants don't have heartbeats.

"Yeah, well, you know this place better than I do. I'd rather trust your instinct than go on my own in a place like this." She tilts her head forward, gesturing with her gun. "Go ahead. And when you need to hang back and do your thing - let me know. I'll take point."

Deacon crosses the lobby and pushes open the door a crack.

"Sweet. It's nighttime. Above ground was totally the right choice."

Door opened fully, he pads down the steps of the museum, glancing back and forth looking for signs of super mutant activity. Out of that building, away from the remains of fallen comrades, he's beginning to feel calmer, more stable.

"So how's a nice Old World girl like you end up practiced at survival tactics? Back in that prison, you said that you had to kill to survive, but it sounded like not everyone in your world lives like that. Not like here. So how'd you get unlucky?"

Ava breathes a brief sigh of relief at that, waiting until the door is pushed open before she begins to follow Deacon down the stairs, her eyes everywhere to watch for anything suspicious. She doesn't trust anything in a world like this, and though she's certain Deacon will make it abundantly clear if they run into something unsavory, she'd like to at least be able to give him a head start if she sees something dangerous in the dark.

"No, no, the Old World isn't exactly full of trouble like yours. Not obviously, anyway." What happens at night or in the underworld of the supernatural, of course, is another story. "I told you there were...monsters in my world." For lack of a better word, and to keep from being specific. "I didn't know they existed until a little over a month before I came here. I didn't have much of a choice if I wanted to stay alive."

Hey, at least she's being honest, if vague.

"L.A.'s full of weird shit but almost everyone can float through life there without ever encountering it." Unlucky her, indeed.

"So, when you say 'monsters' do you mean, like, psychopaths with soulless eyes and no humanity who collect eyeballs in cigar boxes, or is it more like giant mutant sewer rats with green fur and glowing eyes kind of monster? Or both. I guess you could totally have both."

He sees movement on the road ahead of them, too far away to make out what it is in the dark. Too small to be a super mutant. Raider? Feral? He can't tell. He slows his steps a little, approaches cautiously even though they're in the shadows and still much too far away to be detected yet.

"A lot of column A, a little of column B. I mean, I've never gone up against a mutant sewer rat yet but I'm sure it's only a matter of time. The sewers haven't been that bad in Los Angeles." Probably because the Nosferatu make sure things look good while they scurry around. She can't imagine needing to use the sewers for the rest of her life. She pities them.

Ava doesn't see movement at first but sees colors, and she reaches for his arm. "Deacon." A warning, low. She pulls out her gun to be ready.

He freezes at her warning. The thing up ahead moves again, and from the way it walks he's leaning towards feral. Which means if there's one, there's probably a lot more crouching among the rubble and the burnt out remains of a city bus, and he hasn't seen them yet because they're not moving.

"You've got younger eyes than I do. What can you see? And more important, how many?"

Not quite younger eyes, really, but better ones. She sees the one that's moving, crouched down, and then she can see another and another nearby. They seem to be curled up, probably asleep. What little aura is left she can see through the clutter and the color is concerning. It's nothing good. They look human...but even she can see they aren't wearing clothes. What are they?

"I see a couple." She tries to be vague but in a situation like this, she can't afford to be. "Only one is moving around." Ava bites absently at her lower lip. "He's...looking for something." He? It? She doesn't know.

( may event log )

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