thisavrou_log | ( june event log )

Entry tags:

( june event log )

Who: Everyone
When: June 20th and on
Where: The Moira
What: Something seems to be internally wrong with the ship! Caducus Secondary seeks retribution for its sister Caducus Primary!
Warnings: None for now. Please label your content!

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doors to windows
"Follow, and the universe will open where there was once walls."

With the Collectives now behind them, the atmosphere of the Moira seems to have subsided into the general daily grind of ship living. Shifts pass, meals are served, and the occasional tiff continues to hum in the background. However, whether new or veteran, today is not like any other day the crew have seen or experienced so far. The thrum of the ship is a normal one. Those aboard feel it, know it. In fact, whether you realize it or not, the pulse of the engine, its wings, and that of the Ingress is a constant, consistent buzz in the back of your mind and under your feet. Even during planet excursions, it’s almost like a pull to draw you back to the ship and ground you to the present moment. It’s familiar.

It’s late, in the early hours of twilight, that everything begins to feel off. The Moira suddenly begins to drift, tipping gently to one side and resulting in everything on board beginning to roll and tip over. So those in their beds may abruptly find themselves thrown onto the floor. Those walking from a shift back to their rooms or elsewhere on the ship will likely be thrown against a wall. The movement is drastic, but the ship’s systems realign the Moira within several minutes of the event. Anyone near the Ingress room will hear the Captains arguing with one another, and those that go closer will see that Captain Manessah is standing in the middle of a non-functioning Ingress.

It’s off, with no swirling light, and they can’t seem to get it to come back on. It’s clear to anyone that comes by that the Captains are worried, bordering on frightened by the fact that it doesn’t seem to want to restart itself—if that was even a possibility of the Ingress at all. They begin to disagree with each other on the best way to fix it, their spoken language changing to something that the MID can’t translate. Captain Thán exits the room in a rush, not stopping to speak to anyone, and the other two continue to try and find a solution to this problem. Not long after, they send out a ship-wide message informing crew that they are relieved of their duties for the rest of the week except for basic cleaning and cooking. Any personnel with experience in technology and matters relating to the Ingress are asked to come to the Ingress room.

☄ Turn It Off, Turn It On

Anyone who comes to the Ingress room will be asked to clean, repair, and examine the Ingress. The Captains don’t say why it’s urgent that it be fixed, but it’s obvious that they want it to be done immediately. Crew members can assist one another in taking the coolant systems apart to maintenance them or to suggest ways to fix the machine. After a few hours of steady work, that familiar thrum will be felt under everyone’s feet and the Ingress machine will power back on. However, both the Captains and the crew will notice one startlingly obvious difference: the moving blue light and energy has darkened around the edges. There appears to be a person standing just on either side but can’t come through. The shadow remains there no matter what anyone does, and the colors flicker and alter depending upon which crew member is the closest.

And like most things, they always come in pairs. Later that evening, a broadcast is received via Navigation that’s translated across the entirety of the Moira, both over an intercom and over the MID. While it is received as a text, a nondescript voice announces it promptly:

Greetings. We are sending this as a formality on behalf of our sister, Caducus Primary and its survivors. In accordance with our beliefs, the travesty that has occurred in the past must be made equal. That equality means lives given for those taken. While terms are unlikely to be made and agreed upon, they will be heard. A decision to flee will be seen as an act of guilt and cowardice. This is the only warning that will be made. You will be given time to prepare for our approach, People of the Vessel Moira.

With this message received, Navigation also informs the Captains, who then relay to the crew, that a ship bound from Caducus Secondary are within range and have made it clear they are here to settle a “debt” by attacking. Members of the crew are being divided into randomly assigned teams - which can be found temporarily listed in the MID under the directory - and encouraged to discuss plans to help prevent and preserve the lives of those aboard. Reporting these ideas will be the responsibility of elected team leaders, and a final decision will be made shortly thereafter by the Captains.

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ｈａｌｌｗａｙｓ

[ Little to no sleep doesn't mean skipping routine, and it's in the middle of his usual run through the corridors of the Moira that his equilibrium is rolled out from beneath his feet. Steve's quick to try keeping himself upright, but the force of it is hard, enough to barrel him over and attempt to slam him into the opposite wall. Of course, since those aboard the ship are just waking up, it's not as if he'd been entirely alone, reaching out to grab anyone who is with him to take the brunt of the impact when they smash into the opposite side. He feels it down to his feet, braced against the side of the hallway until it feels as if it's beginning to even out again, and when they slide down onto the floor, Steve's promptly letting go and trying to get them both upright. ]

Are you okay? [ The concern is there, though soon overshadowed by the frown pulling at his mouth as he looks around and listens to the rest of the ship come alive in varying levels of distress. ] We shouldn't stay here in case this happens again. Which way were you heading?

ｉｎｇｒｅｓｓ

[ It's been several long days since the incident with the Ingress and the announcement. Several long days of trying to figure out what to do, where to go and how to handle everything that's been thrown at them without any real explanation. He's sat in on some of the negotiations, but it's not as if he entirely agrees with it. Diplomatic measures are only safe to assume when the other party isn't intent on "making things equal", when they want to listen to find a peaceful end to the conflict, and only having one plan? There need to at least be three or four in case the first few fall through—fail-safes. Steve doesn't speak up though, not yet. The majority of the Avengers are there as well, which is what he's going to inevitably fall back on if no major decision is reached.

For now, he's lingering in the room with the Ingress, staring at the shadowy reflection of a person just on the edges of coming through. The colors are off too, something he can't spend too long looking directly at without feeling strange. All this futuristic tech is too much sometimes, and he sighs, arms crossed over his chest as he alters between watching the swirl of the machine and the people coming in and out. He glances up when he sees someone close enough to actually voice something that's been weighing on his mind for a while. ]

What do you think it means? [ There are a few assumptions he's been considering but nothing really concrete. ]

ｗｉｌｄｃａｒｄ

[ steve is going to be the worst busybody ever, so he'll most likely be in/around any of the major communal areas of the ship as well as between the bow and mero deck. contact through his MID is also a very fast way to reach him and/or discuss things. also, he's been tossed onto team negotiation. anything and everything is game! pm or hit me up over @ overcasts for questions. ]

[Things had been awkward, to say the least, between Daisy and Steve ever since she attempted to out Loki as a bad man. Which, reminder, he is. Even when they were on shift together they barely talked, which was all him because Daisy never knew how to shut up. She doesn't like silence, at all. On her way to get breakfast, Daisy suddenly found herself jerking to one side. She went to brace herself but that did little to help. Everything happened so fast that she didn't even know who it was that had grabbed her until she looks back and sees its Steve.

As soon as he let go of her she was on her feet again. That's when she noticed something was extremely off and all the color drained from her face.]

Something's stopped working.

[Which is the opposite of good when YOU ARE FLOATING IN SPACE!]

[Well this is. Incredibly unpleasant in the morning. Especially a morning after you've been drinking (which is most mornings). At first Hawke thinks the tilting is just her vision swimming in preparation for a nasty hangover. And then suddenly she's pitched violently sideways into someone and there's a nasty bang as their body hits the wall. This poor person. There's a pause as if they're waiting for the ship to continue spinning in a spectacular barrel roll but thankfully, it seems to have righted itself. At least for now.

Hawke exhales and struggles to stand as the other person, a man that she doesn't recognize, helps her to her feet.]

I didn't vomit on your feet so I'm taking that as an "okay" for now. As for where I was going... I'm just going to change it to where that's not going to happen again.

[Wanda is so unprepared that she can't catch herself or anyone else. It's fortunate Steve is there to grab her, but somehow, something's not right even though he's taken most of the force of the impact. Wanda is complete deadweight for a moment, eyes flickering red before she squeezes them shut.

She is aware of two things: one, that this is like the force of ten migraines slamming into her all at once and two, that her twin is defenseless in a cryotube.]

Pietro...medbay...I need a moment.

[She's hoping he won't try to pull her to her feet - throwing up may not be entirely off the table.]

Edited 2016-06-22 13:08 (UTC)

[Genos, despite his familiarity with cybernetics, rejected any attempt to work with the repairs on the Ingress beyond lifting heavy objects. After all, he was actually fairly illiterate with other forms of technology, finding them frustrating and having only learned about cybernetics out of necessity.

So yes, he was next to Steve, staring at the Ingress and watching the figure inside, sour as his scanners didn't give him any decipherable readings.]

It could mean many things, but I suspect it is someone attempting to come through. Given the timing, it is reasonable to expect it to be directly related to the oncoming attackers, but there is also a chance of sheer coincidence. It might be unrelated.

[That alone has Genos on edge.]

It makes more sense for it to be an intimidation tactic, but I am unaware if other groups in this universe are capable of affecting this Ingress technology or if this is something we should be finding surprising from the other side.

[ Negotiations are tiring. Everyone has something to say, but no one can agree on one particular outcome that will benefit everyone. This is what he's been hearing. This is what he's been doing, and it's exhausting in a way that fighting rarely ever is. It makes him susceptible to the strain of what might happen and what is happening, what they could do and what they won't, and there are so many choices that Steve's head spins with it. The weight of it crushes him down until even his very steps are tired, and it's a long walk back to his room, the familiar route lengthening with each step and his bed that much more appealing. He doubts there will be any real time to rest, but some things are worth hoping for.

At least the small mercies of the few weeks before give him something to hold onto.

He thinks about that even as he enters #009 of Mero deck and rounds the opposite side of the room, behind his roommates' beds, to get to the dresser. Steve unbuttons the Moira uniform shirt and folds it slowly before setting it down with the few things he keeps that are not necessary for ship life. Sentimental things. An empty sketchbook, a few pencils, the seashell he had found with Bucky on that beach. Little memories, pieces of home that would never find their way there if and when he somehow managed to go back. And that, too, is a thought he considers when he turns around with the conscious decision to simply lay in his bed for a few hours and think everything over. Yet, it seems that someone has already beaten him to that particular endeavor, and Steve's mouth curls just a fraction at the corner when he finally catches a glimpse of his friend asleep in the egg dome atop its mattress. It reminds him of things long-since past, though only a handful of years for him at most, and he's careful about sitting on the edge, reaching over his hip for the blanket tucked into the closed side to pull it over him. An easy movement, slow so as not to wake him, and there's only the gentlest touch to his knee.

This is one of the reasons he stays. This is why he can't let the impending threat of attack loom so high and sit idly doing nothing. Steve can't stand to lose more, and he draws back, intent on sitting there and waiting as if his very presence could protect Bucky from the world outside. ]

[ It was supposed to be a quick visit.

Drop in, check on him and see how he's holding up (even if Bucky refuses to admit that's what he's doing), and actually get some shuteye. Bucky's been running on fumes the past forty-eight hours, and even if he's been enhanced, he'll still need to sleep sometime. It's just that the nightmares a few days back had been particularly vicious, and he received no comfort even when he awoke with the taste of blood in his mouth and the woman's cries in his ear.

He remembers that long stretch of empty road, how he had waited patiently in the dark, waiting for the snare to tighten around his prey. The Winter Soldier is efficient, brutal, sparing none who are marked for death. Bucky cannot escape the horror that turns whatever small comfort he's taken for himself into ashes in his mouth, a reminder of what he is, the sins he had committed.

Bucky had looked around Steve's empty room then, hadn't expected him to have left, and it makes something in his chest twist when he sees the seashell that Bucky had given to Steve, set amongst his best friend's sparse belongings like it's something precious, something important. He's not sure he deserves that position anymore, but he finds that his comments to that effect had often fallen to deaf ears where Steve's concerned.

He's still not sure how it makes him feel.

But Bucky sits in Steve's bed, decides to wait for him before exhaustion catches up and he finally gives in -- which is how Steve finds him, curled on his side asleep, claimed once more by his demons. He twitches when Steve reaches over for the blanket, something in the back of his mind sensing that he's not alone. But he doesn't sense a threat, and his subconscious takes over, wrenching him from a dreamless sleep to another nightmare, of blood-drenched victims with too long hands, reaching out to drag him down with them. He makes a soft sound and turns this way, then another, troubled and haunted. ]

[ He's no stranger to bad dreams.

Nightmares are the easiest to deal with because waking from them means facing them with a little more clarity, even if they creep into clearer thoughts, and Steve turns at the first sound Bucky makes, eyes drawn to his face and then the restless turn of his body. He doesn't know if it's wise to wake him, though he doesn't think he can sit and watch this without doing something, and eventually, he stands and moves closer, the hand that had rested on his leg now reaching out to touch his shoulder. It's light, almost careful. Steve doesn't shake him though, just letting the comfort of his presence try to soak in through the haze of whatever it is he's seeing. ]

Hey. [ His voice is just as low, palm settling a bit firmer and brows drawn together as he looks him over. He's sure Bucky hasn't been getting enough sleep, just like the rest of them, which also explains why he'd found him like this in his room, and his frown grows deeper, fingers curling gently in an effort to offer him something he has yet to give him since he'd found him on the observation deck all those months ago. ] It's okay. [ He doesn't know if that's reassuring enough, but he hopes it will be. Somehow. ]

[ Something touches him and Bucky comes awake in a heartbeat, violence incarnate as he grabs ahold of the perpetrator's throat with steel fingers, closing around tight. He registers the threat and acts on it, thinks of the doctor that leaned too close, the one who removed so much of him --

-- his eyes are dark, filled with murderous intent as the dream keeps his consciousness shrouded, trapping him in its clutches as he relives fragments of horrific memories, unable to pull himself from them. It's not okay, and he will be compliant no longer. If that invites punishment, so be it. ]

[ Instinct tells him to move back, to put distance between them that he had fought so hard to close, but it's a second too slow, the clamp of fingers squeezing into the giving flesh of his throat like a vice. That same instinct tells him to squirm, to bring his elbow down hard on the exposed part of Bucky's forearm, but something deeper stays his movements, his breaths immediately shallow as the fingers curling around Bucky's shoulder dig into flesh. It's a warning, a plea, and he doesn't want to fight him when they haven't had to do something like this for months. Too much peace, too many hours growing soft and remembering why he'd love this person for so long, and there's a quiet grunt, Steve's other hand gripping at the wrist crushing the air out of him. ]

Buck— [ The word is low, sharp but heavy in his attempt to reach him. Those eyes are not the ones he knows, his friend lost in the nightmare he had wanted to comfort away, but he still refuses to hurt him. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how difficult it becomes to draw breath, he isn't going to travel down that road again. ] Bucky. [ Steve chokes, moves just a fraction and gasps hard when the ends of his fingers sink even further forward. ] It's me.

[ Please wake up. ]

[ It's precious seconds later that he realizes that the person whose throat he's gripping isn't fighting back, and that he's an instant away from crushing his windpipe when he finally registers who it really is.

Steve. He's turning blue, but he still doesn't claw to be free, and it's the helicarrier all over again, when he takes all the violence that Bucky dishes out in his rage and confusion and he feels something splinter in him. Steve, who wouldn't hurt him no matter how dire it is, is betrayed by Bucky's demons and nightmares, his helpless anger.

He releases him immediately, rearing back and pushing as much distance between himself and his best friend -- the one thing that matters the most to him ever since he'd regained what's left of himself. ] Steve, I --

[ He's breathing hard, wide-eyed and panicked. He'd almost tried to kill him again. ]

[ Simply hearing his name is relief, the sagging freedom that comes with him pulling his hand away ending in a soft gasp as anything deeper than a shallow breath burns his throat and the already bruising tissue around it. Steve drops back, half standing and half leaning with a knee pressed into the mattress now, and it's all he can do to shake his head, the feel of sweat sticking to the back of his neck and already pricking just a little beneath his collar. ]

It's - [ He can't even swallow without it hurting, but he fights through it, hates the the weird strain in his voice and the way Bucky's looking at him when he manages to lift his head enough to do the same. ] - okay. [ Another breath, this one even softer, and he shifts just an inch closer. Not crowding him, he doesn't want to do that, but to prove that he knows he wouldn't do this on purpose. ] Just an accident.

[ Those few words ache into his chest, but he tries to smile nonetheless. ]

[ Even in this Steve looks at him like he hadn't just tried to kill him, drawing a little closer like the one thing in this room -- in this ship -- that's truly hazardous to Steve's life is desperately trying to maintain distance between them. He's horrified at himself, even moreso when he sees the violent bruises start to blossom at his throat.

He swallows hard and knows he can never forgive himself for this, and he scrambles past and away from him, not trusting himself to be near, not after what he's done to Steve. ]

An accident that almost killed you. [ Why didn't you fight back? No, he knows why; and that's exactly why Bucky has to leave. That Steve is struggling to smile (he sounds awful) even now will haunt his every waking moment. ] I'm sorry.

[ He is, he really is; and he has never hated himself as much as he does now, unable to quell the panicked frenzy of his thoughts, the overwhelming guilt -- everything that he touches will turn to blood, and it's foolish to try to believe otherwise. Even the one he most lives will not be spared. ] I have to go.

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( june event log )

steve rogers | open

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Hallways

hallways; let me know if this is okay

Ingress

closed to bucky.

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