thisavrou_log | ( august intro log )

Entry tags:

( august intro log )

Who: Everyone
When: August 1st and on
Where: The Moira
What: New “guests” join the crew on their journey and implement some changes.
Warnings: None for now. Please label your content!

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old but unfamiliar faces
"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once."

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. Shortly after, you are led out and toward the medbay.

Inside this room, you are given a physical scan and offered a contract to sign that states you are now part of the crew of the Moira with a specific job. Any questions you might have would be answered in a straightforward manner as well as an explanation about how the Ingress, the thing that has pulled you onto the Moira, is broken and bringing people here unintentionally. This process also 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 or wrist with only the slightest pinch. From there, you are guided out of the medbay and to your living quarters.

At first, this month seems no more unusual than the previous one for those who have been aboard the Moira for any amount of time. The crew who had landed on the slaver outpost were rescued, and with everyone aboard, the ship has pushed forward into the darker parts of the Runoff. Anyone arriving through the Ingress follows the same routine—moving from the Ingress room into the Medbay for their physical and contract before being assisted by seasoned crew members and helped to their assigned decks. But all familiar things must eventually come to an end: two final travelers come through the Ingress. The first, and most noticeable difference between them and all the others, is their clothing. Both are dressed in standard Moira uniforms, though they bear the insignia of one sharing the same rank as Captains Cúrre and Thán. After a moment to take in all the people on the platform ahead of them, one of the two latest arrivals approaches one of the Ingress panels and begins to manipulate the controls. The Ingress completely shuts down. Unlike before, however, there isn’t an imbalance felt across the ship; everything remains normal and stable.

Utilizing the computer systems located in the Ingress room, they send out the following message to the crew via the MID:
To all those aboard this vessel: I am Ira Phirun, assigned captain of the Moira. First Mate Egan and I will be commandeering all rights to the ship as soon as word is sent to those currently in charge. Expect a more detailed report as soon as all records and logs in Navigation have been reviewed by myself and the First Mate. All questions will be answered in a timely matter. For now, there will be no interruption of daily routine or reprimand if conduct among ranks is broken. Thanks for your time.

Heading to Navigation, the Captain and First Mate, for seemingly unknown reasons, approach Navigator Manasseh and have her show them all records and logs of the Moira. Those working in Navigation when the Captain and First Mate arrive will see Mana greet them in a professional manner. Oddly, the Captain and First Mate act very familiar with the Navigator. They review all documents, but when they come upon news that the Ploiatos is on board, their mostly friendly demeanor shifts quickly. The Captain issues a sharp order, unintelligible to those who are close enough to overhear parts of their conversation, and without any warning at all, Mana loses consciousness and collapses right there on the bridge. Within minutes of this happening, the ship as a whole falls into a low power state with basic functions only. Mana’s MID alerts Medbay, and without hesitation, Captain Cúrre places her in cryo with strict orders to those who work there not to disturb the unit.

As promised, the Captain and First Mate soon address the crew.

☄ lights down low

The lighting has dimmed in all the rooms and halls, the normally crisp air that is pumped from the vents low, and all machines and tech are running at half-speed. These effects can be found throughout the ship. Water in the showers remain hot for only a few minutes before reverting to cold. Recreational equipment powers off not long after it has been turned on. The sanitation and water filtration systems require an hourly manual reboot, and all unused areas of the ship have no power allotted to them until a crew member steps inside. Even then, most functions are not optimal. It’s as if the Moira has been transformed into a dark house with only a candle flickering on the window sill.

☄ reuse & recycle

The Captain and First Mate are quick to establish that this is a new regime and go about making the ship and its crew more efficient in the wake of their change in course and the low power state of the ship itself. This means they will systematically inspect each occupied barracks room and leave notes for what needs to be disposed of or stowed away. Unlike before, this is no longer a pleasure cruise, and each member of the crew is a guest on board; they will not tolerate useless clutter. Anything seen as unnecessary will be either placed into storage in the Cargo Bay or disposed of through the airlock. This new need for efficiency also extends to the need to conserve resources until they reach their destination. The showers are set to an automatic timer to minimize water waste. Those few minutes of hot water are all a crew member is now given. Meals are smaller, bordering on ration sizes, and luxuries are done away with entirely in order to preserve supplies so that the ship can go longer before needing to dock at a planet.

☄ new jobs, same faces

The Captain and his First Mate, as expressed in their addressing of the Moira, explain that work efficiency is a priority. Applications for a head of the following departments will be accepted for a short period: Navigation, the Tower, Medbay, Defense, the Hold, Sanitation, Ingress work, and the Galley/Mess Hall. (Here.) After reviewing what they receive, one head of department will be chosen and tasked with helping crew find positions relevant to those departments and their own skillsets. They will be allowed to retain any positions that they held before that aren’t ship-functional jobs, but they will have to be done in leisure time. In two weeks time, they’ll be accepting department position applications which will be approved, and all those that do not apply will be assigned in accordance with their initial work application. They will also choose three individuals to act as guards of Ploiatos to ensure that there is a rotation available at all times. Will you choose to follow this new decision and promote yourself into a position of responsibility? Or will you simply wait for a reassignment?

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

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Speaking of company, Starscream literally just rounds a corner and trips directly over Rung because he's not looking where he's going. He swears loudly on his way to the floor and lands right on his face. But hey, at least he managed to somehow not land on top of Rung. That takes skill.

This is the ruler of Cybertron, everybody. People voted for him on purpose.

[Starscream isn't going anywhere interesting. Just back to his room. It is better lit than the hallway, though. Just give him a second to grumble to himself while he punches in his door code]

Of course there's giant spiders, why wouldn't there be? I bet there isn't a single exterminator on this entire ship. No, that would just be too convenient.

Clara's not really paying full attention as she walks down the corridors, too caught up in her own thoughts about everything that's been going on lately and the changes on the ship. She almost nearly bumps right into the girl, but hearing something that's muttered causes her attention to snap to alert and she dodges just in time. Her eyes widen as she glances at the young girl that's walking past, and she can't help but attempt to initiate conversation.

"You've heard of sonic showers?"

She's had a few in her time traveling with the Doctor, and wonders if maybe this girl has been around him as well, or is from someplace that has similar technology.

"You don't happen to have a sonic screwdriver, do you?"

[ At the very least, Eli's grown to have some sense of civility, Venom figures. He doesn't quite miss the flash of antagonism thrown his way at the use of the name Eli (some things will never change), but scorn is an improvement over unbridled fury.

Perhaps it's misguided of Venom to be heartened, but he finds his body language relaxing.

(Still the same old fool who told Eli to hate him, despite everything.) ]

Enough to earn the title. [ 'Snake' is a big name to live up to, after all. He should know, being Faker McFakeSon— the slight downturn of his brows should speak to the complex feelings he has about this. ]

Seems to me like we have indeed lead similar lives. Our bodies are born of tragedy, but we use them to fight and protect for the better.

Also we both apparently do not like sleeves.

[ Excuse him while he chortles over his own joke. ]

Holy shit.

[We got nothin'.]

What do the wubs do, exactly? Summon glowsticks?

They are constricting and have a tendency to catch fire when I activate my weaponry.

Robot, my man. I guess you're not one if you don't know what it is.

[lúcio shrugs.]

My name's Lúcio. You?

[A glare's enough to intimidate Leo... he's kind of a weenie, to be honest]

On my job! I....Well... I don't know if I'm going to get paid, but, it seems like they're pretty strict around here?

[Leo's just Slightly Concerned he'll get thrown out an airlock or something]

[You are pitching this idea to the wroooooong person, Lúcio (the hell is a "meet cute?") But – to be fair – Adam would probably be no more on board with it than if he did understand that one hundred percent, so. It all works out to the same thing.

Still facing the window, he doesn't notice the slight contact until it's happening – head snapping around to stare at Lúcio with those artificial eyes of his, uncovered by their shields. The impulse to snatch his arm back from the touch nearly overwhelms him, but he manages to stamp it down at the last moment. The guy's already treating him with kid gloves (he realizes, stomach twisting) so clearly he's done enough as it is.]

...I've had better days. [It's honest, at least; he's not going to go for the classic "it's alright" lie.] It just– [A frown.] Hit me, I think.

Your job?

Well, I can still see! [laughs nervously, this is really subtle, Leo.]

They're not, um, completely closed, I just have to squint a little.

[he doesn't want to draw too much attention to his eyes..... but he's failing at that, regardless]

Exactly! It overheats my steam ducts and- wait weaponry?

[as much as lúcio tries, he's not perfect. he notes the head snap with a mental cringe as he realises he's over stepped a boundary.]

Yeah, that happens. Sorry, man. [he snorts lightly.] I saw a rec room, if you want directions. They had some pretty rad lookin' bean bag chairs in there.

A. Med-bay

As healthy as a man twenty years younger than his current age. Healthy as a horse (a senior one he hoped). Fit as a fiddle (well-aged through time). Sharp as a tack (too true, too true). Alexander sat jovially through the scans that would declare him of sound body and mind, even if before arriving on the strange observation deck which showed him the stars and the blackness of space along with the Ingress' light, he distinctly was aware of the sensation of dying. It was hot and sharp at first and the cold and blanketing after a few moments.

Now he sat speaking with the medical staff, asking about their time here, allowing himself to be fitted with a device that would monitor his vitals, make him visible to the crew at large, and allow him the full range of communications that had once been a hand-held device that one was likely to misplace at one point or another. He made a good humored show of pulling out his reading glasses and examining the device.

He requested that all of his personal effects, even those damaged by bullet holes and blood to be carefully folded and kept. Keep-safes. The last objects of a home he could not longer participate in. Here and now, he had signed a contract. Here and now, he was willing to participate.

The MID was very interesting. Look at all those names and pictures of the crew. He examined each one, feigning the needs of age to keep things slow. To be prepared.

B. Lights Down Low

Wandering through the Moira's hallways in search of the various housing, necessities of life, and becoming familiarized with his surroundings was no doubt supposed to be daunting. His eyes no longer adjusted as well to the dark, but he was a proud man. He didn't grope his way along, didn't bend his back to hunch over the MID that was attached to his wrist, and whenever he passed another member of the crew, he was cordial in his greeting as he moved on his way.

Alexander grew up in a time and was raised that a man could ask for directions, but it was best that he stand on his own two feet and use that spot between one's ears that God had given them (or Darwinism in other people's views) to exhaust out resources on one's cunning. He only kept close to the hallway wall so he could follow it and not lose track of himself in the dim lights, but years of wandering as a spy and a politician and a terrorist (what a vile word) kept him putting one foot in front of the other, his personal belonging hugged under his left arm as he moved.

Slowly, he was finding familiarity, memorizing the lay out as he walked, pausing to look for signage or other specific differences in hallways to set them apart. He drank in the details like the vents, the flooring, the various hallways. Where air circulated, the slow slide of water through pipes and any consoles that he happened to pass. He had time after all. There was always time to drink in the details; he was going to need them.

He wasn't lost. He was exploring.

C. New jobs

Counterintelligence Officer. After explaining his specific skill set - leaving out a few choice details - it was the occupation that he would be handling in his time aboard the Moira. His duties included and were not specifically limited to everything included in potential foreign threats to the Moira, but it also was assessing, analyzing, countering and monitoring internal threats as well. It clearly involved combing through vasts amounts of information, and that was a skill that he had developed a fondness for at a young age and carried through his entire career. It was mentally stimulating rather than taxing.

The MID was an easy way to flick through the various archives of the crew's exploits. He was in the mess hall often enough with a cup of what might have passed as tea or coffee simply looking at foreign, alien and familiar faces, his off hours writing down notes that were, of course, coded for his eyes alone. He left himself out in the open as both a welcome for approach and to expose himself as little more than the old man who people more often than not would underestimate.

It allowed him to sip at his cup and observe. People watching was always interesting and it proved fruitful more often than not. Now who would be good to use? Who would be good to sacrifice?

[OOC: I will match replies with action or prose.]

Ha! You are a delight.

[ It's hard to tell if he is being serious or not with that dimpled grin of his. ]

So, what job'd they stick you with?

[ Perhaps Zero should have thought about the complications that making 50 sameface dudes would cause, and thought deeply about the aftermath of adding to the pile of these sameface dudes with one person who doesn't even share a gene pool with the rest. This isn't even really his cross to bear, the Les Enfants Terribles mess, but it's apparently something that Venom will have to contend with.

He would laugh if any part of him remembered how to do that. Instead, he turns his head to the man currently trying to comfort him with a hand to his forearm, ghost on metal. ]

This is bound to get confusing for the others.

[ AGAIN, he's not going to talk about himself, because that's still a pile of question marks that he has to sort through on his own time. Big Boss, the twins, another 'him'.

Pragmatism helps. Moving forward, that helps.

He relaxes his tight-lipped expression in increments, finally manages to properly look at Kaz with something resembling gratitude. ]

Am I gonna have to limit my interactions with the Snakes?

Drift. Have you been here long?

I got my healin' wubs and that one should help you run faster. Speeeed boost!

[he switches over.

because he's all about Cool Lights, the lights on his armour switch to yellow as well.]

[He's interested, but if he doesn't want to talk about them, Izuku won't press]

If you say so. Do you know where we need to go?

[Zam’s not that out of practice either. When she sees the man reaching for his weapon, she draws hers just as readily. And then he gives that command and gets the flattest glare imaginable in response. Zam can’t talk. She can’t even type out a message with her MID-less hand pointing a blaster at him. There’s a tense moment of silence as she considers her options. Then, slowly, her free hand reaches up and unpins her veil.

The drop of fabric reveals what she had been hiding underneath. The left side of her face, from the cheek down to her neck, has been turned to glass, taking a large portion of her mouth with it. The shape of it doesn’t fit with the rest of her face either, carved so hollow it looks more like it was modeled off a skull. Lips press into a thin line and she shakes her head. She couldn’t talk even if she wanted to.]

Nope! Just fell through that space portal an hour ago or so.

[he shrugs, nonchalant.]

Been explorin' ever since.

The poor girl seems disappointed, and Leia can hardly blame her. To find herself in an unfamiliar place, with a mother and father who don't recognize her on sight...if it isn't frightening (thank the stars for that), it must at least be unsettling.

And in that moment, she has a moment to see just how clearly theirs this girl is. Her eyes and nose, some of the shape of Han's face and hair--perhaps Leia would have seen a resemblance even if she hadn't been called Mom.

"No, we don't," she agrees, and takes a slightly hesitant step (one she hopes doesn't look hesitant) forward. "What's your name?"

I'm-- [he scowls, slapping drift's finger away.] If it was that obvious, why would I try to deny it?! I have no fragging idea what you're on about!

[ Though Reinhardt might cut an intimidating figure to most folks, McCree knows him for what he is--a gentle giant, a teddy bear in a grizzly's fur. To be sure, he was fierce and fearsome in battle, but now, like this, McCree knows exactly what kind of man he's looking at. It's for this reason that he walks right up to Reinhardt, slaps him on the back, and crows. ]

Well, now! Fancy seein' you here, old man. Hope the trip through this portal didn't upset your delicate joints too bad.

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( august intro log )

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Alexander Pierce | Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU)

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tuesday

arrival