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!

I
N
T
R
O

L
O
G

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)! )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She comes tearing down the hallway, eyes blazing and fists held to her sides. She can deal with having roommates, she's never lived on her own and she likes Fiora. But the idea of someone unknown going through her things to find what she's 'allowed' to have makes her blood boil.

Being told to get rid of her makeshift weapon makes it worse.

It's not really that she's angry, though she's doing a good job projecting that. The changes, the rules, what happened last month to Kobra; she's scared. The Girl had finally started to feel comfortable here and suddenly that safety feels compromised. She wants to cry, she wants to punch something.

Instead she nearly barrels into Anakin as she's turning the corner, stopping short of running over his legs and gasping up at him. She's red and shaking from the effort to keep from screaming. She opens her mouth to apologize, but all that comes out is a frustrated noise.]

[Well, he knows that sort of frustration at least. He can feel it coming off in waves, even if he's not sure where exactly it's centered (he can wager a decent guess: the entire ship is in turmoil right now, and the last month hasn't helped).]

Am I in the way, or do you want some help?

[It doesn't matter what it is. When she's damn near shaking, it can't matter what it is.]

[She stares up at him, taking deep uneven breaths.]

Can ya get rid of the captain? That'd help. [She turns like she's planning to stalk off, before she stomps her foot and starts talking again. She's upset and Anakin's as good as a sounding board as anyone else would be right now.]

They went in our rooms! Tryin' to tell us what we can and can't have. After they already went and messed with our food and the lights and sayin' stuff about our jobs. They went through our stuff. Ain't you mad about that?

The new one?

[It's a question that doesn't need asked, once she continues. Of course she means that. She's always been distrusting, skittish around any real kind of authority, this shouldn't come as any surprise, no matter how long it's been since they talked talked.]

Jedi aren't usually allowed many personal belongings. Back home, anyway. [He offers a sympathetic shrug, regardless. Not owning much is one thing. Having those few token reminders ripped away? What if it had been his wedding rings? His mother's journal? Wouldn't he be just as distraught, if not downright furious?]

But I don't love it, no. [From one form of slavery to one that doubtless would act very offended if the word was brought into context...the old captains may have been a touch out of their league, but this does seem like--at the very least--a gross overreaction.]

Mad is one thing, kid. What do you plan to do about it?

[After all, can he of all people claim that anger doesn't have a place? Controlled, it very much still gets things done.]

Yes!

[She feels like pacing. She's used to having her admittedly few tantrums out in the sand, in the diner, where the boys can let her work out her energy. There was angry music to play and things to be destroyed until her arms hurt and someone came to coddle her. To remind her how the world had to work and why she should be lucky to feel even the ugliest things.

But this isn't home and this isn't being upset about Tommy raising prices or Party coming home with a black eye.]

I never had much either. [Runners had what they could carry. Anything left behind was always at risk to be stolen.] But that makes what ya got matter. You keep what's needed. Nobody has the right to take that away.

[She breaths hard, stomps her foot. That's the question isn't it? What can she do about it? Her weapon was gone and even she wasn't delusional enough to think she could take down several grown men by herself.]

I don't know. But something! Something to make 'em pay or stop. They keep comin' up with rules and this place will end up just like home.

[And underneath the anger is that fear. The fear this place is a shade off becoming BLI and history will repeat itself. There's no where out here for her to run.

She makes a strangled noise, one of the lights down the hall flickers for a moment.]

I won't let it.

No, you're right, they don't.

[Even the Order, few things as they did allow, had never taken what it didn't give. They're lessons in attachment too, learning to let go of things--which is at least a sight easier than people--but the ultimate choice is left up to a person to govern for themselves (~~within reason~~).

At the Girl's age, he's sure he'd have raged in the same way if someone had come between himself and his tools (or even his lightsaber) without his explicit choice. Ineffectual as the last captains might have been, they'd never have gone this far.

He's about to offer she tag along, that they go find something to "fix" in this mess when her angry expression coincides far too conveniently with the flicker in the lights behind them. His gaze drifts to the light fixture for a second, and then back to the Girl.]

Hold on. Does the lightshow come included?

[Does she even know--?]

[She’s ranting internally, trying to remember every curse and insult they boys ever taught her in every language a Zone rat knew. It’s not doing anything to calm her, because thinking of Jet sitting with her and a copy of an old magazine, translating for her- it just hurts. Hurts in the way every little reminder of home does and that hurt just makes her feel worse, feel angrier.

She’s so caught up in the feed-back loop that she almost misses what Anakin says. She does miss the flickering of the lights or how it’s gotten worse the more she gets worked up.]
What?

[The lights settle for a second, her internal battle broken with momentary confusion. She looks up to the dim overhead, back to how he’s staring at her.]

We’re talkin’ about something important here!

[Her temper flares again, and the flickering is back. The lights grow as bright as they had been before the Captain’s new rules were implemented.]

What, tryin’ to distract me or somethin’? I ain’t buying it.

No, I'm not trying to-- [If anything, she's distracting him. Anakin rolls his eyes, and nods to the light above as it flickers again.] You don't see that?

[Or is it that he's seeing it? It has been a tense few weeks, with tense new rules to follow, but he doesn't feel lightheaded or particularly pained beyond the constant residual, so that doesn't seem right. Does she not know? Is this new?]

See what?

[Her voice raises again in pitch, expression darkening by the moment. She thought Anakin was something like a friend. He'd been nice to her all this time on the ship and she liked him. But this felt like he was mocking how upset she was, trying to keep her from her goal with petty distractions like she was still a toddler. It hurt and she'd never been good at dealing with hurt when she was already upset.]

I thought you would take me serious. Not treat me like some dumb little kid. [The hurt fuels more than just her anger. One of the lights suddenly shuts off.] I thought you were nice.

Hold on, I'm nice! [He just thinks this is a more pressing question; the authority figures already think they're going nowhere.] You get mad, the lights go out?

[With the light shutting off, he knows something is definitely wrong. And while he doesn't doubt that this bucket of bolts has faulty wiring somewhere, that explanation doesn't feel right. Doesn't account for the charge he feels in the air here, however faint.

It's worrying, when realizes what's fueling this. The sort of agitation he's always told to avoid. He can't conscionably enable this...right?]

That's not something "dumb little kids" can do. Not the ones I know.

What the hell are you talkin' about?

[She looks over her shoulder, finally catches sight of the flickering lights. She pales. There's something funny in the air that reminds her of the awed looks she caught from the backseat when the boys came up on other runners. The funny way Ghoul would smile when she got something working even he couldn't fix. The things she never liked to think to hard about; that the Dracs never took the shot when they had the chance, taking her instead of leaving her for dead like any other runner, that when BLI had the chance to take out the Killjoys they came for her instead.

There's panic mixing into the anger now, like the lights are something significant that she can't quite put her finger on. But it makes her stomach turn and skin prickle.]

I'm not doin' nothing! [Another light shuts off in a spray of sparks, blowing with the overload of power.] You've lost your damn head 'cause whatever you think your seein', it ain't me. [Another and then another. Her voice rises until she's shouting. She puts her hands over her ears, shaking her head.]

You don't know what you're talkin' about. Just shut up, shut up!

[The hallway falls dark.]

[As the hallway falls dark, he sighs for a moment, blinking up in the darkness at the non-responding lights, then back to where he knows the Girl had just been. Fine. Bad approach.]

Sure, alright. I imagined that. And this. But--

[When he puts this together with what's actually made her angry...]

But I wouldn't tell anyone, even if I wasn't obviously seeing things.

[She still has her hands over her ears even when she glances up at him the in the sudden darkness. It's as much of a comfort thing as it is an attempt to block everything out]

There's nothin' to tell. People can't do things like that. Not where I'm from. It's just the lights messin' up. Place ain't got it's power wired right.

[She knows it's a bold faced lie, can't even make it sound like she believes what she's saying.]

That's probably true.

[The last part, at least. He doesn't trust a ship he can't dig into himself. But even that pushed aside, he knows better. And he knows what barefaced denial looks like too. (He's certainly pulled it enough.)]

Fine. There's nothing to tell.

[Even if it's perfectly "normal" where he's from. He understands enough of superstitions. Pilots have plenty, all on their own. And he can make a small enough concession now, but this will hardly be the last of it.

He gives a small pause and bites back the sigh that follows it.]

Anyway how do you want to "get back" at our new overlords without making things worse for everyone else? Everything's rationed as-in, so unless you're thinking of, I don't know, turning the water heating back on...

[He disobedient streak has always been situational and rarely planned. It's never extended quite this far. The idea actually bristles more than he expects.]

[She peaks up at him, fears undercut with soft uncertainty. She expected him to press the issue, to turn around and run to tell everyone. This is something huge to have over her. Despite all the powerful people she's meet on the ship, all the powers she's seen, she feels like this will be her scarlet mark.

But he's leaving it alone. And she's not sure whether she should trust that.

She pulls her hands down, holding onto her elbows instead.]

I dunno. I was just gonna run in there and yell at 'em and figure it out as I went. [Maybe. She's having a hard time switching tracks. To think beyond the heavy feeling of what just happened and back to what she'd come storming down the hallway for.] Maybe take somethin' from 'em and see how they like it.

[He'll press her about the issue. Later. But he knows the value of keeping the extraordinary private; however normal it is for his adult circumstances, as a child it had been nothing but doubt and suspicion, or worse: exploitation. There's no need to bring it up. He's made the promise he intended to.]

What do they have to take? Taking the ship is tantamount to mutiny, and a bad idea. Sneak in and steal uniforms?

[...Actually, that's not half bad.]

[She shrugs and gives him a withering look.]

I'm not gonna steal the ship. I can't drive it. [Maybe she could hand it off to someone who could. Leia or Han. But she wouldn't see the point, not if they wanted to keep the whole place from turning into a battle ground.] And I'm not stupid. I don't wanna start a clap over it.

But the uniforms? Maybe. [She certainly hates the idea of uniforms enough to want to get rid them.] Or anythin' personal the got. Ya know they gotta have stuff they don't want us to touch.

Maybe not, but you know people who could. [And he'd argue the point ceaselessly over Han Solo, damn it.

He pauses for a moment, considering. It's terribly immature, and he knows it, but if it makes her feel better, the small victory in that can't be all bad, can it?]

You'd be better at sneaking in than I would. But...I might be able to keep someone occupied, if this is what you want.

But then I'd owe them. [Look she likes Han well enough but she's not going to start wasting favors. She doesn't have a lot to afford to loose and still doesn't grasp the idea people might just do things for her out of kindness.] I'm already gonna owe you.

[She mutters it under her breath, more a statement to herself than something she's trying to discuss.]

Are you gonna fight 'em? [Isn't that what adults means by keeping someone occupied? Maybe someone should teach her the first response doesn't always have to be the violent one.] I actually am really good at bein' sneaky. Most people don't pay a lotta attention when it comes to someone my size.

Says who? I don't do favors because I expect something, that's not how favors work.

[He frowns, slightly, more concerned that she thinks she's beholden to him for something he freely offered. That's supposed to be the whole concept of freedom, isn't it? Being able to give yourself to who you like, when you like? When it's a choice? Selling a favor--something rather easily done--just feels...wrong.]

And no. You don't have to hit someone to get their attention. [He's not 12, honestly.] But they'll stay occupied, don't worry about it. No real harm, no one gets locked up for a mutiny, everything's square, right?

Says everyone? People don't usually just help people for free. Not unless it's your people, ya know?

[She shrugs. People got by on trade, whether goods or service and she saw it as the latter. This wasn't just offering extra food in a place where supplies were plentiful, this could led to trouble. At least, in her mind. She can't detach her idea of authority from the company at home. Doing something that may anger the captains was the same to her as asking someone to anger an Exterminator.]

You're not even gonna tell me what you're gonna do, huh?

Distract.

[A nonsense conversation that diverts attention isn't always worth noting. Granted, he's no Obi-Wan when it comes to subversive tactics like this, but if it's not political, it shouldn't be too hard.

The Girl must have a video different idea of how the concept works.]

Why, what does that usually mean?

I'm gonna go out on a limb and say we've got some different ideas 'bout distractions.

[She snorts when she says it, a little humor returning to her face. Her ideas involved explosives, fires and decoys. Violence. It's telling of the world she's used to. But she doesn't think Anakin will be taking a match to anything anytime soon.]

What favors? Like I said, it's a debt. Something people are bound to come collect on sooner or later.

Jedi don't resort to hand-to-hand.

[It's said so matter-of-factly that he almost believes it, despite the several...dozens of experiences that speak to the contrary. They don't resort to it unless necessary. Semantics.]

I'm not promising them anything. Just talking. Do you want help or not?

Not ever?

[She doesn't believe that. Everyone had to deal with a little fist to fist at some point.

She takes a few moments to stare at him, lips pursed and pretending to consider. She lets out a huff, nods quickly.]

Okay. Yes, fine. If you're willin', I guess I shouldn't turn ya down.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( august intro log )

Closed; Anakin

ugh I am a slow mess I'm sorry

nooooooo shhhhh

<3!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject