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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
no subject
[Now...now he's starting to sound a tad bit testy. Kaworu's blurring the lines with his beliefs again, and Mettaton's not interested in being told he's anything like a human right now.
Even if it's true, he does not want to hear it, because some of the slavers...were human.]
no subject
[Kaworu regards Mettaton a bit sideways. His mouth has a slight skew to it. Annoyance.]
no subject
I know that I'm pretty convincing, sweetie. But I am not human, I'm a monster. I'd thank you not to make the mistake again.
no subject
I'm not mistaken.
Just because you call yourselves 'monsters' or 'cybertronians'... well, I don't really care, to be honest. It doesn't really matter what you call it. 'Human' is the definition of the soul.
[He means that sentence in a very different form: to possess a soul is to be human. More to the point, everyone on the Moira--his own presence excluded--is a specific form of humanity. The form taken by Lilim--and apparently others. The bearers of the human mind.]
no subject
I'm aware you don't care about the classifications we all give ourselves. That is actually why I hit you, and threatened you during our last meeting. Make no mistake, dear. The fact that I am not doing so now says less about myself as a person, and more about how good of a friend Frisk is.
That being said, your word is not the only one to be heard on this ship. We are from many different walks, and where I come from, many creatures can have the gift of a soul and be different from one another. A human being is different from a monster.
Our biologies are considered during classification. I don't know which way you categorize humans, but this ship. Is. Diverse.
And it is incredibly insulting to be called a human when, by my definitions, I am not.
[Mettaton pauses, his eye focusing intently on Kaworu. He's very serious.]
Now. If you respect nothing else, respect the fact that not everything goes by the rules you are beholden to. I'm not imposing my ideals on you. I'm asking you to respect the way things are for everyone else.
[There's a real edge to those words. Mettaton is trying extremely hard to keep his temper.]
Today in "I'm going to hit Hideaki Anno with my car"
But on the other:]
...so you understand, but it still bothers you?
[He stares at Mettaton for another two or three seconds, the look on his face gradually turning into something that could only be called sour. He has the air of someone who has just been publicly dragged--but instead of rolling over and giving up, he's taking it really personally.]
....
I don't think you understand at all.
[Everything does adhere to those rules. And he is taking into account biology. But the biology? Doesn't matter.
Everyone on the ship--every single being on the Moira--has some minor permutation of the basic human form. Every single person on the Moira--every single being--is from a 'species,' or 'race,' or whatever that's plural. That develops art. Language. Science.
'Monsters' are a little strange. He doesn't understand them entirely. But he knows what they aren't. He knows enough.
Of course they're different from each other. That's individuality.
He didn't call Monsters human beings. He called them humans.
No one on the Moira wants to explain what exactly they define a 'human' to be, but everyone wants to claim they aren't one.
And the only reason Mettaton even believes his relationship with Frisk is worth enough to attempt 'respecting' Kaworu with his lecture is the same mistake he was made to perpetuate.]
no subject
If you cannot do as much, then we have nothing further to discuss, and I'm not in the least bit interested to hear how you feel about it.
[If Kaworu thinks that his pouting is going to get anywhere with Mettaton, he's quite mistaken. Maybe at another time--a time three months ago--he would have taken the human thing as a compliment. He might have been open to Kaworu's perspectives too.
But not now. Maybe not ever again.]
no subject
He still does, really.
But there are a lot of other things right now that he can't leave alone; issues Mettaton has already kicked over the rock to uncover.]
I didn't agree to anything.
[He, uh. May also be unfamiliar with that phrase.]
I didn't agree to THIS, either. I haven't agreed to anything at all--if that means my only purpose here is to be taken advantage of and then rejected for it, then I will at least have the right to speak for myself.
[....even if that, too, is to be limited. ]
no subject
It's official. Kaworu is entirely impossible.]
I am not taking advantage of you. And that was an expression--oh, forget it.
[That's all he contributes. He's sick of the verbal gymnastics he has to go through simply to have Kaworu misunderstand him again and again, and not even care to accept alternate views. He's so stubborn, and while Mettaton is equally stubborn...
...he is also so tired. Not because he was low on charge. But because he's just spent talking about this.]
Never mind, alright?
no subject
He sits down, cross-legged, in front of the robot. His hands rest on his knees, his red eyes still watching Mettaton. The scrutiny is a lot less intense, but he's obviously still thinking.
Then:]
I have a question.
Why do you mimic the human form? And don't tell me it's not. Was it your choice?
[If you hate being called human so much...]
no subject
And oh boy.
That was a question alright.]
Why?
[Mettaton's gloved fingers curl into fists, and he thinks back for a moment to his conversation with Zam. His apathy is bordering on those levels, where he might actually answer the question honestly and with no kind of defense for himself.
Kaworu can make his judgments upon hearing Mettaton out.]
It was my choice. And I regret it immensely. That's something you wouldn't know anything about though, right? Regret. Feelings. Empathy.
So think what you will.
[Although it would make Mettaton feel better to hurt Kaworu again, he instead reaches behind him, pulls his charge cord out from the wall, and gets to his feet.]
Call me human again though, and I am not responsible for what may come after. I don't care about what you think you know.
[So saying, he turns away from the white-haired young man and moves to leave. He can find a better place to charge.]
no subject
The jabs about his feelings--or the lack thereof--don't sting at all. He knows that his feelings--such as they are--don't mean the same things Mettaton's do. He's right, after all. He has no idea what humans feel.
With one exception.
But while Mettaton is leaving, he asks one more question--a monosyllable in English, a couple more in Japanese.]
Why?
[He asks, but even he doesn't exactly expect an answer.
It must be asked, though. This is one question he really wants an answer to.]
no subject
I said think what you will. It's not my concern anymore.
[For all intents and purposes, that's Mettaton's way of saying "go fuck yourself" before he finally does leave the room.]
no subject
Which was about what he expected. Mettaton reminds him a little of Shinji. He thinks he understands himself, and rejects any attempt by others to tell him what they see.
Even if it's true.
He just wishes he could have gotten an answer about Mettaton's choice to take on a human form.
Think what you will.
It's easy to interpret. He doesn't know if he's right, but... the human form is the one to which those with the human mind will respond to most positively. They'll relate to it better, assume a piece of themselves in the bearer of such a body. Even a fake one.
That's part of why he was given it.
'Kaworu Nagisa' and 'Tabris' would forever be two beings in the eyes of men.
He stands, finally, dusting himself off in broody silence.
...but if Mettaton regrets the human form so much... then what does he think of Frisk?]