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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?
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hownkai) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-08-01 12:13 am
gimme the d(addy)
The second she gets a break and can leave, however, it clearly weighs on her shoulders as she clutches a steaming cup of coffee, finding a quiet corner just outside the medical wards, not even aware of anyone else's presence when her weight thumps against the wall and she sinks down to the floor in slow motion with a relieved sigh, cool metal against her back. For everything this ship seemed to be lacking, they did still at least provide coffee, and her hands needed the heat.
Venom may not even have acknowledged her yet, but she notices she's not alone after half a second and startles, nearly splashing coffee with a quiet sound of surprise. ]
Oh—! I apologize, I'm not in your way, am I? I thought I was alone.
no subject
Reflexively, his hand twitches. As if he could've caught spilled coffee?? The non-articulated and almost unconscious sentiment here is be careful, even if it's his fault that she was startled in the first place. ]
You're fine. [ He says, after a beat. A little uptight, a little distant.
But get this, he actually reconsiders and rephrases: ] —Are you?
[ Because she's sitting on the floor outside medbay, which is. A bit of a concern. ]
no subject
That distance in his tone is something she can relate to immediately, expecting the exchange to be over, but he lingers there and his weight shifts when he asks her something— what now? Oh.
The surprise is clear in her eyes when she looks up at this stranger properly, lips parted in a soft "oh" and really, it's kind of him to ask. She takes a moment to really look at him, taking in what could only be metal shrapnel and the multitude of scars, the blue eye looking down at her. He reminds her terribly of so many people at once she almost reaches out to touch him before she snaps herself out of it and her hand is back on her coffee cup. ]
I am... exhausted, quite honestly. Out of my element. But aren't we all?
[ All she can offer him is a tired little smile, but it's one that invites him to stick around. She can sense a kindred spirit in him and it's the sort of light she wants to stand under. Having others around who have spent their lives on a battlefield— she doesn't think she's very far off in that assumption. ]
no subject
The fact that she includes him within this collective, uses that word we, is a reminder that he really is no different from the rest of them, here.
Food for thought. He shifts to give her more space, hums a mm in acknowledgment. ]
We're all coping.
[ Which is... well. His even tone doesn't make his statement sound gentle or reassuring, but the fact that he lingers is his sign of empathy. Again, he almost leaves it at that, before finding it prudent to append. ]
Working is one way to deal with it. But don't take it too far. [ Incredibly hypocritical. ]
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Already she can tell he's a good man; it leaves her smile warming the longer he lingers, and eventually a bit of a laugh. ]
I can see everyone working at it earnestly. It's easy to tell who has been here longer, who is originally supposed to be here, and the newer arrivals like us. Different degrees of coping I suppose, but you're certainly not wrong.
You also don't seem like a man who takes his own advice but I appreciate the sentiment. I'm Angela.
[ She'll offer him a hand warmed by her coffee, reaching up where she remains seated on the floor. And she wonders idly if he had anywhere he needed to be or if she should pat the floor beside her and offer him a seat. ]
no subject
His grip is firm, but not oppressive. It remains for precisely the right amount of time: long enough to have conviction, brief enough that it remains military. What a contradiction of a man. ]
—Ahab. [ Not exactly the most elaborate introduction, but he figures that a name will suffice. Her easy smile and laugh is punishment enough, too pleasant to be coming from someone so recently displaced from her world. ] I take my own advice when I have to.
[ He doesn't straighten up, not immediately— just watches, trying to gauge how tired she is, if he has to haul her up and sling her to her room.
He actually would, how sad is that. ]
no subject
Handshakes had always spoken plenty about a person in her experience, and everything about this one is calculated. Perfected. But kind; he doesn't squeeze too hard, doesn't linger too long, callouses worn smooth over a short amount of time. Dexterous.
Almost like a surgeon's hands, something niggles at the back of her mind. But that couldn't be right.Her expression is apologetic as she lets her touch slip from his fingers. ]It's a pleasure then, Ahab. I didn't mean to bring you down to the floor with me just to shake my hand, but while you're here, would you like to sit?
[ A little pat on the floor beside her, inviting. Don't dismiss the possibility of having to sling her off to her room just yet; that will wait to be seen when she tries to stand again. She'd dove head-first into working the second she was spat out by the Ingress, and the effects of the travel were still floating about her, waiting to settle. She only keeps stirring the air and delaying it further. ]
Is anyone here that you knew from where you came from?
no subject
For a second, it looks like he might refuse. His single eye swivels to that hand settled on linoleum, then up to those brilliant blues, then back down to the opposite end of the hall. Like a threat assessment. As if she might summon a cadre of wrongdoers to ambush him the moment Venom makes himself comfortable.
But he knows that that isn't the case, and he isn't exactly direly needed anywhere.
He takes a seat. ]
...A few of them. Been here longer than I have. [ Try '6 months longer'. He's still wrapping his mind around it. ] Spent the past few hours being sat down and briefed.
[ It got fairly claustrophobic fairly quickly, needless to say. A little sigh, for his trouble. ]
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Oh no; that sounds overwhelming. I hope things have been going all right for them here. It's good not to be alone, and better still that they have experience in this place, hmm?
It seems as though multiple people I know have arrived around the same time as myself, so it's mostly a matter of... making sure everyone gets along, I suppose. I'd rather that than be here alone. It's selfish of me to think as much, but it is what it is.
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There's strength in solidarity. Wouldn't call that selfish.
[ But 'everyone getting along'— that bit, he'll comment on with a bit more wryness. ]
Still, sounds like you're pretty ambitious.
[ As much as Venom Snake isn't that token contestant on reality television that says that they're not there to make friends, he somehow doubts that everyone here is amenable to becoming a big collective. ]
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Very smooth, the way you redirected that back at me.
[ That smile quirks up into something a little more playful, pulling her knees up to wrap her arms around, resting her cheek on them to turn and watch him. ]
Is it so ambitious? Perhaps for the entire ship, but I will be glad to start with just my friends. Some of them are family to me. Some I haven't seen in a very long time; I don't know how we'll all reconnect with everything between us. We have each other and our predicament in common, though. So it's a start.
[ Some of them have already (quite literally) been at each other's throats. She has a lot to work with. ]
Are you close to any of those you know? If your briefing lasted a few hours, I wonder if you weren't in trouble.
no subject
The curl of her shoulders around her knees, the spill of her hair over her shoulders. It's an odd mismatch to the sterility of this place in general; she radiates an odd sense of presence, one that he can't quite put his fingers on. ]
You're fishing.
[ He says, after a beat. A quiet joke in return for her playfulness, something that might have been accusing if not for the slight huff of breath that smooths out the edges of his words.
Cue laugh track at her asking if he wasn't in trouble, though. He's not even sure where to even begin with that, so he's gonna. Leave it well enough alone... stop bullying him, Angela!!!!!!!!! ]
Same as you, though. They're comrades. [ And then some, but that's a clusterfuck he's not going to touch. For someone so gruff, he says 'comrades' with a stupid earnestness; they're not his real family, they were never his to have, but goddamn if he doesn't feel for them. ] Can't think of a time when I haven't been in trouble with them.
[ Because that's just how it is, right. ]
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With his... teasing? She's sure he's teasing, she can't help the tired way she smiles. ]
Fishing for justification? I might be, at the rate they've been going at it.
[ That turn of his words is obvious and her smile softens with it, listening to him closely as she watches him from her knees. Sometimes "real" family isn't all its cracked up to be and you have to make your own. She gets the impression he may have done so even unintentionally. ]
I'm glad you have some who are close to you here, then. [ No one deserved to be this far from home alone. ] You certainly don't seem like a troublemaker to me. Shall I write them all a prescription for 300mg of patience to be taken daily?
no subject
He tips forward away from the wall, releasing his tied-up hair from its uncomfortable position where it'd been mashed against smooth chrome-white. One elbow settled on a knee, he reaches for a pocket with his flesh-and-blood hand...
...and looks vaguely perturbed when he remembers that he'll come up empty. Right, the ship confiscated his electronic cigar.
His jaw works in vague annoyance. She might recognize it as a quirk of a habitual smoker, the way his lips twitch and move at their corners as if he misses the weight of a cigar-shaped object between his teeth. ]
None of them will take it. Even if it's Doctor's Orders. [ Especially if it's prescribed patience. ] Better off saving your energy.
[ They're all stubborn soldiers, what can he say!! ] ...You've been working at the medbay since you arrived?
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Do you smoke?
[ Electronic cigarettes were easy things to make; she could fashion some up in a few hours if the materials were readily accessible. The trickier part would just be the flavoring, she supposes, but synthetics were easy enough to create. She'd just have to trawl back through the years and remember how to go about it. They couldn't be the only two on the ship, and sometimes smoking was less about the nicotine and more about the act itself. ]
Sounds like your comrades are the troublemakers instead. [ BELIEVE U ME, SHE KNOWS THE TYPE. It's all right, her feelings won't be too hurt. ] Mm, I was in the Ingress room for a few hours helping those who were arriving. Then one man came through that was beyond my abilities there in the room, so I finally left with him to get him treated. The second they released me, I was pulling on my coat.
[ The mere mention of it draws a yawn from her; it'd been well over twelve hours ago simply for the medbay portion of that adventure. A few hours before that, and she'd been in the middle of her day when she was pulled here— those sorts of runs may not be unheard of, but it's certainly catching up to her in her "old" age. Nevermind that lightheadedness bordering on dizzying nausea she's been keeping at bay. ]
no subject
When I can afford to.
[ Crouched in a foxhole, making sure that no one can see the dim light of his cigar, or back at base where he could indulge in long, soulful smokes while staring out at sea. Small luxuries for a soldier, to have that private moment.
Speaking of having a moment, though. That yawn doesn't go unnoticed, a punctuation to a confession that she's been working since she's arrived. Note to self: this 'Angela' is a literal bleeding heart. ]
...That explains why you were on the floor. [ Is that accusatory? No, his tone is too neutral to be a true verbal jab, but it might be one of those subtle chides delivered by a father or an uncle or a caretaker. ] You know where your assigned room is?
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[ Angela had gone through the "stop smoking" song and dance before; if someone his age were still smoking, they knew the risks. They took them anyway. It isn't her place to lecture someone on their lifestyles. Simple oral distractions were an easy way to relax, giving the mouth something to contemplate, something that filled the senses. She understood completely.
AHAB WHY DID THAT EXPLAIN WHY SHE'S ON THE FLOOR!! Now look at who's bullying who!! She does have the decency to blush and look sheepish, at least. ]
It's significantly easier to maintain your spinning head when you're grounded, after all. And I do; I dropped my things off and changed before coming back. I'm in the Nomo hallway. Room... 28-29? And you?
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Save your resources for your comrades.
[ And her thanks, but that latter bit goes unspoken. Venom is always just a bit distant, warmth that seems to be a layer or a dimension removed; a sharp contrast to how present he is when he gets up and maneuvers in front of Angela again, hand proffered and posture open. ]
My room's close enough. [ Please note how he will not tell her where he lives... even though it's so easy to find out??? Please, Venom Snake, why. ] Your head still spinning?
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Yet this is something she won't voice, instead just humming a dubious reply and nodding her head in understanding. (Which she will not follow through on. One day he'll just find a gift and have to deal with it.) She almost wonders if she'd disturbed him too much when he goes to stand, but then it's a moment before realizing why he's stopped in front of her and offered his hand. The curious touch of wonder turns into a smile, brows drawn up apologetically as she takes his hand and slides one leg down to get up under her so he doesn't have to haul her to her feet all on his own. ]
That must make us deckmates then...?
[ Are they going to walk back together, then? LOOK AT THIS SWEET MAN. She's rather touched with the thought even without being certain it's his intention. The light dust of pink on her cheeks is more than just an idle embarrassment; it's a rush of blood to an already spinning head when he helps her to her feet and she sways with the change in "altitude", squeezing his hand as her weight tugs her to one side and her stomach jumps with it, other hand rising to her forehead as if she can steady her equilibrium just by pinching her temples. It should be answer enough, feet shuffling unsteadily when she tries to catch herself and a little "ah—" slips out. ]
no subject
[ Again, a vague answer for a straightforward question. His brevity isn't the most charming thing about him, but he employs his monosyllables with a sincerity that makes up for his lack of eloquence. Hopefully.
He takes her hand, steadies her weight, and assesses. With an attentiveness that isn't altogether just military, he watches her smile segue into a light frown, heralding the eventual waver, sway, and displacement that he stops halfway with lightning-fast reflexes. Bionic between shoulderblades, hand still clasped around her wrist. ]
Looks like you need some help, 'Doctor'.
[ And, well.
Without wasting time, and with a flurry of limbs and readjustment, Venom loops one arm under Angela's legs to haul her up and off the floor. Tried and true, practiced and fluid. Her gravity knocked sideways, Venom hefts her across his chest, bisects his heart with her frame. ]
no subject
Before she gets a chance to so much as stumble there's a sturdy hand at her back; he's quick to catch control of her before she can fall. Her laugh is about as steady as she is, stuttering and breathy and for just a split moment her head tips and one of her knees goes loose. The same moment she exhales, actually, relief at his presence clear. ]
I'm... so sorry, thank you for— oh!
[ If it'd been spinning before he really shakes her up when his hand settles at her waist and he's scooping her legs up, yet just as suddenly her stomach's settling and she's finding herself at ease. Not having to worry about her body misbehaving; the breath she'd sucked in with her surprise is held just long enough to settle, easing out of her on a sigh as she nearly goes limp in his arms.
She could do the polite thing and put up an argument. It wouldn't fool either of them, though, and really? The second she'd sat down to compose herself, she realized chances were slim she'd be able to get back up. A part of her had been resigned to catching some hours in the hallway.
She could, but her head rests against his chest and she can hear his heartbeat, steady and strong. No irritation, exertion, nervous fluttering. She relaxes further against him and you would think closing one's eyes would make one's dizziness worse, but she anchors herself instead on his heartbeat as she does exactly this. Relying in his sturdiness instead of her own. Her tone is plenty playful even if it's exhausted, voice soft. ]
Are you offering it, 'soldier'?
[ Her fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt, though, right over his sternum. She'll take a moment to steady her breathing before opening her eyes— a battle all its own just to manage halfway. ]
Thank you.
no subject
...Get some sleep.
[ No acknowledgment of her thanks, being that he never asked for it. He lingers near the wall, lets the figure curled in his arms find a spot she can get comfortable in (as comfortable as being toted around by another person can get), before he sets off down the hall at a slow, measured pace. Matching the click of his boots against linoleum with the steady one-two beat of his heart against his ribs, knowing that there's a certain rhythm that facilitates the process of winding down.
Like his namesake (the one he hasn't informed Angela of, the one she might find out about later), his bionic snakes carefully at her shoulders, coils and rests to steady her weight for minimum jostling.
For a venomous serpent, Venom Snake is hilariously mild. ]
no subject
"Gentle" isn't a word easily used for battle-hardened soldiers, but they had strong hands and they knew what they were protecting. Which direction their life pointed them in. The way he's picked her up and holds her is gentle, careful in how he balances her weight and holds her steady to him, standing idly while she gathers herself up and smooths out her breathing. She doesn't fidget or shift beyond turning her torso into his and lifting an arm up over the opposite shoulder, fingers splayed over his back as her head comes to rest in the crook of his neck. She can feel the rough brush of his beard against her brow and smell the sun-baked twill of his uniform that brushes against her lips.
He finds that rhythm perfectly. Her eyes flutter closed when he begins to move again and the soft sway of his weight shifting from one leg to the other and the beat of his heart draws her right in, limp in his arms. Once more, barely a breath: ]
Thank you.
[ She's already out. ]
no subject
He might never see her again (she might be better for it), but at the moment, he's done all he can for her.
Like a ghost, he finds himself in the shadowed halls of Nomo Deck, and like a specter, he places Angela's hand against the door leaning into her quarters to let himself in. The only indication that her encounter with him happened at all is her eventual displacement onto her bed, instead of her back still pressed against the wall leading to the medbay; shoes removed and lined neatly on the floor, blanket pulled up just up to her shoulders.
Venom Snake doesn't say 'you're welcome', but his backwards glance before he leaves is a substitute for it. 'Rest well'. ]