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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
apologize one more time and I'mma bend u over my knee (unless you're into that)
When his fingers slip between hers and his sternum, she'll turn her hand over to lace her fingers with his. Slender and soft, but nimble. Strong, as a surgeon's hands should be. She'd been a natural picking up some light cybernetics, operating a soldering iron as easily as a scalpel. But more importantly, they've done a lifetime and again's worth of soothing. She can tell he's trying his damnedest. ]
Mine is blue as well. Robin's egg blue, Dutch blue, or that shade the sky takes when the stars are easing out for the sun. Not quite midnight or navy; there needs to be a word for it. Or perhaps I just haven't heard of one yet. Then next is red, which has always amused others seeing as I'm Swiss. It's expected, isn't it? When our flat is a big white cross on a red field. But it's the color of life and passion and the heart.
What's your favorite food? [ If he says kaiju sushi she may actually smack him tbh. Don't eat those!! ]
OH BABY, also cw for emetophobia
Swiss, huh? [his voice is raw and strained, thanks to the bile and acid burning his throat. He coughs again, trying to straighten up and wipe his arm on his sleeve.
He actually looks a little better for vomiting, not shaking as much and looking considerably more human.]
Never been to Switzerland. I was born in Germany, though and when my Mom used to tour sometimes I would visit her when she was in Europe. Whenever we had enough money to send me. She didn't like seeing me that much, I kinda was the big "mistake" she made. Having that hanging around isn't great. She's better about that now that I'm doing something important with my life.
[He straightens, pulling a face at the taste in his mouth. He can still feel them at the back of his mind, pressing against his own consciousness, but they seemed to be at bay. For now.]
--Can we not talk about food? ...Especially since mine is all on the floor?
no subject
Feel a little better now? Hold on just a moment; let me get you a cloth and some water.
[ She only has to turn away for a few seconds to get a cup from the faucet and the promised cloth and some tissues, using one and raising her leg to wipe up the mess on her boot and add it to the trash. She'll be pressing the cup into his hands while she wipes at his face the second she's turned back. The cloth is damp and cool, starting at his brow and nudging his glasses up to pass over watering eyes before his cheeks, then his bloody nose, and finally his mouth. Forgive her this motherly touch!! Now rinse your mouth out so she can judge the trash aside. Now he looks even more human.
The cloth is discarded and she'll offer him the tissues to blow his nose with gently, if only to dislodge any bile that may have gone too far up his windpipe. As soon as her hands are free one is returning to his back. Something simple and grounding and encouraging him to slow down and take his time. ]
Oh yes. You couldn't tell from my accent? [ She's teasing, really; it's only vaguely Germanic, a little more melodious and lilting compared to its harsher northern cousin, and expecting someone to pinpoint dialects is silly. The quirk of her lips says as much. ] One of my dearest old friends is from Germany; Stuttgart, to be exact. I am sorry to hear about your mother, though. Families aren't always those with blood ties to you. More often than not people go off and make their own in life. I know I did.
[ She had lost her parents to war when she was young and didn't have much other choice, but that isn't the important bit to take away from it all. He's talking just to talk; stay rooted in the here and now. ]
If it isn't too sore of a subject, may I ask what your mother does? To be touring. [ She would ask about him as well, but he'd already been about Kaiju this and Kaiju that— she can already imagine where it will take him. ] I hope you at least got to enjoy the travel; Europe is varied and beautiful no matter where you go. It was difficult for me at first, traveling to America for example. If you drove for a few hours in Europe you'd be crossing entire countries, but if you went the right direction, you wouldn't even leave California farmlands.
[ Then with a bit of a laugh, a gentle fond little thing: ] We won't talk about food. I'm only trying to keep you focused on easy things. [ And avoid anything that may lead back to these Kaiju he's so fixated on. ]
no subject
He takes the tissues and blows his nose, feeling silly for all the attention she seems to be doting on him as his stomach settles and the ghosting fades to just a murmur at the back of his mind. Newt seems to be more aware of the situation, becoming more and more lucid as they continue talking.]
Pfft. Like you can tell from my accent that I was born in Berlin, right? [Is that a smile?]
Eh, I don't really care. I was an accident from an affair, so it's not like I can blame her. I used to, but not anymore. [he shrugs, rubbing his nose carefully. It's stopped bleeding, finally.] My mom? She's a pretty famous opera singer, so is always all over the place or rehearsing. It was cool when I could go see her--I still have some of her old arias on vinyls in my room that I listen to when I'm stressed out.
[He laughs a little.] I'm the worst at travelling. I get really easily bored so when I'm flying, so if I don't have something to distract myself with I kinda wig out. I'm pretty sure my Dad almost strangled me when we moved to the United States, and the same happened like, twenty years later when I got transferred to the Hong Kong Shatterdome. I drove Tendo crazy because the internet was down and all he wanted to do was sleep.
no subject
More importantly, she can see he's stabilizing, calming back down and climbing back up that spiral. ]
Fair enough, I suppose. [ It IS a smile; her own warms, even with the words that follow. ] No living being brought into existence is an accident, Newt. Everyone finds their place and will make a difference on the world. I only hope you've heard a similar sentiment before now.
Oh, that sounds lovely. I've had the chance to see a few held by some of the galas I've attended; I couldn't imagine being able to convey such emotion or setting with only my voice.
[ The news somehow doesn't surprise her; he did seem to be high-energy even beyond his arrival here. She could feel it in his voice, how easily he expressed himself. ]
I had to grow used to it myself. Every time I turned around I was heading somewhere else in the world, always traveling. Whether it was for missions or relief efforts or faraway galas for research funding. I've never been able to sleep on flights and the scenery was too far removed or too dark by night to enjoy, but by car? I'm out within minutes.
[ Angela is 100% the person on planes that old ladies reached for to hold hands with during takeoff and landing, and whose lap strange children ended up in. Outwardly calm. She always brought things to do and was never able to get to them. Books or reports on her tablet, yarn and crochet needle; nothing worked. She would try to list off bones and muscles in the body to relax and fall asleep, but she'd go from head to toe and never reach that place of thoughtlessness. She'd resigned herself to idle thought and half-hearted attempts at work or rest. ]