TEST DRIVE :003

[onemind]

TEST DRIVE :003

     WELCOME to the test drive and thank you for your interest in Station 72! To allow players to experiment with game mechanics, flexibility and to account for the fact that our TDMs tend to span a number of months to make up for our low player turnover, we've put together a game-themes random scenario generator for you to play with. Mix and match prompts at will, pick your own broodmates, experiment with abilities and specializations, talk to each other and maybe make up some pre-established CR, and generally play around however you like.

This test drive is not game canon, so take this chance to go nuts! Current in game players are also welcome to make top levels here and aren't beholden to their in-game characterizations (so if it makes more sense to be a broodmates of a character test driving, feel free to do so for the sake of these threads).

For the full experience, we strongly encourage players to write up a short blurb about what their fellow characters might know about them either through shared time on the Station or through the Nest mental link. Handy links can be found at the bottom of this entry if you have any questions and APPLICATIONS are always open if you decide you'd like to jump into the game proper. If you're having trouble coming up with a symbiote ability for your character for use in either the TDM or for your application, we have an ability workshop post located HERE.

(Mix and match these prompts at will to create your own TDM scenario - there's no obligation to use something from every category. Feel free to make up anything that isn't covered in the prompt if it lends to your playing.)

     THE PLACE

1. STATION 72 consists of massive, alien sprawl. While large sections of the Station might be mistaken for a Station manufactured for use by humanoid beings - the hangar is relatively standard other than its massive size, the Life Support deck with its series of living quarters seems normal enough (if you ignore the part where none of the rooms have doors on them), and there's even a Jai Alai court -, beyond the most well trod paths the Station quickly cedes to the utterly bizarre. Corridors twist and loop back in on themselves, great verandas overlook massive empty rooms, ramps because stairs which lead to dead ends. It's easy to get lost if you don't have a destination in mind. Strangely enough, if you do know where you want to be, the Station's twisting paths will eventually get you there as long as you keep your goal firmly in mind. Knowing that is another thing entirely.

2. THE MELTED WORLD was once beautiful. Then again, maybe it's always been a toughened old rock, but at some point the planet called Ojan was glassed in the throes of a brutal war. The planet's entire surface has become a twisted, mirror-like substance by whatever super hot biological weapon was poured into it. The material isn't actually that horrible, consuming black; it perfectly reflects the empty, quiet space that surrounds Ojan: a foreboding testament to a war long forgotten. But what lies below the surface of the desolated world?

3. THE SCEPTRE is a fabulous building structure suspended from an asteroid in orbit around a planet. The Sceptre pierces down through the atmosphere of the planet below and over the course of the asteroid's orbit, The Sceptre has an opportunity to pass through every habitat and climate the world below it has to offer. The Sceptre is sleek and beautiful (or it is? Maybe it's fallen into disrepair and only ghosts remain) and its massive windows look out onto a varied, verdant world (or do they? What state is the planet below in, exactly? Has it been so thoroughly paved over that the atmosphere is the only place left to build?).

4. PENTARA PRIME is the ancient, meandering capital of the lush garden world of Pentara. Unlike most cities, it is a large, verdant sprawl, made up eighteen clustered centers - groups of low, elegant stone buildings, strung together by winding roads populated with quietly humming pods moving people from spoke to spoke. The capital is built around leisure, not production and there are far more gardens and orchards than there are buildings. The sun is heavy and low, and the air is still and buzzes with the sounds of fat-bodied insects. It’s so still, so calm. It seems empty and there is something unsettling in the quiet. --Or is it? Maybe it's bustling with energy, just as vibrant and delightful as it seems on the surface.

5. CHORIUS is not quite a planet. Not anymore. Once long ago it was, but over time it has changed - been stripped clean of every valuable mineral, every scrap of rare metal, and eventually even of atmosphere. The core has cooled perceptibly and now even its rotation period has slowed dramatically. Now it is a made up of shaped carbon and steel that bridge over the stripped surface of the planet, pulsing with energies, shielded from the harshness of the sun by a webbed dome that keeps the electric scented air from escaping into the space around it. Here nothing is wasted. Everything - everyone - is recycled and reconstituted into new forms. Every one of the cities changes daily, reformatted to meet new goals and new needs. It is a dead world filled with the living. But whether it is thriving or dying is hard to say - and what the newest change will bring with it is even more difficult to guess.

6. SPACE, THE FINAL FRONTIER. There's a lot of it in every direction.

     THE PEOPLE

1. THE OUTLANDERS consist of small bands of settlers and explorers who have quested out into the unknown, the remote, and the dessicated parts of this galaxy looking for either new opportunities or forgotten mysteries. They are mostly upright though only vaguely humanoid, remnants of a civilization driven from their own failing world, each group is bound only by their own codes and personal laws. They're traders and nomads, largely peaceful but wary of the harsh, dangerous environment and beings they've crossed paths with. Don't cross a deal with an Outlander - they'll make you regret it.

2. A VERITABLE MELTING POT, the beings of this metropolis are as vibrant and diverse as is imaginable. These are a people developed by a myriad of cultural influences, technological insights, overlapping interests and clashing societal norms shaken up and spit out into something that more or less works as long as there's a whole lot of bureaucracy to keep it in order. And boy is there a lot of that. Mind your p's and q's - someone might haul you in for questioning if you cause too much of an uproar.

3. A RUINED GHOST is all that remains of this ancient civilization. Once there were people here leading brilliant or lives, or quiet ones, but all that's left are their ruined structures, old half-functional consoles and signs of lives abruptly arrested. What destroyed these people is initially unclear, but their extinction appears to have been absolute. --Or was it?

4. THE COURT is elegant and beautiful and perfect. Every being is shrouded in delicate, gauzy fabrics layered so densely as to obscure their elongated squirming bodies from head to toe. Each step sounds like a bell ringing from the the small metal plates at the bottom of their soft slippers; every gloved finger glints with small golden threads. The queens sweep through their secret insect gardens and their royal technomancers walk the halls with the glitter of hologlyphs sparkling at their fingertips and in the wake of their sweeping robes.

5. THE GREAT MILITARY is larger even than it’s name suggests. Every member of their civilization plays some part in it, every person has a rank, every family an insignia. The structure is rigid and inflexible and all-encompassing, and it has made them into ferocious enemies. They have been at war for as long as they have been a people, and their battle will never end, because if it did, they would go with it. The harshness of their life is painted on the sharp planes of their grey faces, but there is an indomitability and a pride to them that is hidden by their stern, unchanging expressions.

6. SCUM ALWAYS LIVES at the edge of the universe. Beware the dark of the space and the seedier underbelly of cities or the shadows of forgotten planet - pirates make their living there and these are desperate times, friend.

     THE OBJECTIVE

1. GET UP from where you've fallen. Or get up from the nesting deck pod where you've just woken up on the Station. Or get up to Level 672 where there's a ship waiting for you. Or get up from the knee you've taken before this alien queen. Get up.

2. THE RESCUE might be saving a city from a disaster engineered by an enemy force, playing bodyguard for a government official, or liberating a rare artifact from a crumbling structure.

3. IT'S A RACE AGAINST TIME to collect the relic you've been sent to retrieve from the collapsing ruin. Or to make your way free of the military blockade. Or to make your escape from a crumbling world.

4. THE MASQUERADE is all a cover - for an assassination. For a heist. For a political coup.

5. INFILTRATE you know what you need. And you know who has it. With a little help you’ll be able to break into the place no one is supposed to go. You could sneak in… or smash in. Or maybe just talk your way past every little problem.

6. COME ON AND SLAM and welcome to the jam. It’s a ritual or maybe it’s just a pastime, but whichever it is there are rules and there is a goal. There’s probably even points. If you’re lucky, you just might score one. Avoid the spiky pits? Or maybe the thrown fruit. Or perhaps just the other team...

6. EXPLORE and uncover the secrets this place have to offer. There’s a mystery here if you know where to find it. And all you have to do is look.

7. DON'T DIE is easy to say and hard to do when you're under the guns of an armada. Or when you're trying to outwit spies. Or when the ground is literally crumbling under your feet.


     INSPIRATION

NAVIGATION • PREMISE • FAQ • RULES • GLOSSARY • APPLICATIONS • SYMBIOTIC SKILLS • ABILITY POINTS

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

Komali | The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker | Open

[rito]

I. The Melted World
He was told, they were all told, that the action, the interest in this strange land lay beneath the silvered surface. Komali didn't doubt that-- and if he was afraid to go underground, under... whatever that strangeness was, then that was fine. Courage only came from a bed of fear, wasn't that true? Even Link had been afraid, he hoped, and then overcome. Certainly Komali was afraid.

And he too would overcome. Soon.

It wasn't a crime to delay, was it? A few hours in open air, wings stretching, wheeling high over his own mottled reflection in the impure flatness of the mirror-planes. The heat is intense, but the thermal rise all the more potent. And he will land, for anyone, unless that 'anyone' cares to join him for a flight?

II. The Court
This was meant to be a royal function. He knew all about those, such as they were; the Rito had had kings and queens for as long as they'd had the ability to gather all into one group, and with royalty came the trappings. But a people who's life and livelihood rested on mail delivery and the appeasement of a guardian deity had little use for formal courts. So, what he did know, was more theory than practice.

It's just that apparently, feathers are all the rage here. There's something dangerous about it, a bird among insects. They keep touching him.

"Stop that. I don't want to-- stop it," He reminds them, each time over-familiar fingers reach out to pluck at what they must suppose are sleeves, "Those aren't clothing. Leave me be!"

Talk is cheap; it's much harder to keep his composure now, than when he promised he would do so. Even for a prince, Komali is beginning to think he's unsuited for royal politics. Maybe you want to help the poor bird out?

III. Wildcard
Anything you like!

I. The Melted World

[viperfire]

There was something making its way slowly over the glassy surface of this world, a little ahead of Komali but moving towards him. It turned out to be a slight-looking girl, as out of place as anyone would be against the blasted landscape. Nasu put up a hand to shade her vision as she looked upward at what she at first mistook for a large bird.

Then she raised her hand and waved rather than shouted; she couldn't be sure how her voice would carry.

Asuka Langley Soryu | Neon Genesis Evangelion

[redheadcarrier]

[OOC: Asuka's a very traumatized, very bitter teenager, with a lot of history. She lost her mother at a young age (this will likely be picked up on; the exact how and why likely will not be). She used to be some sort of robot pilot and has been in combat. She's also dealt with injuries and she doesn't trust easily. She's abrasive, angry, and likely to lash out if she feels she's being pushed. Has an eyepatch on her left eye. ]

Wake Up

[ Asuka wakes up. There's not quite a scream on her lips, but there is an audible gasp as she comes out of the darkness. She finds herself sitting up in the pod, trying to draw deep breaths of air. She's shaking; a nightmare that she can't remember. There was the beach, that hideous, red sea and the disembodied head looming on the horizon like some sort of sick, alien moon or sunrise. Fingers on her throat, the feeling of being pursued, an offer-

And here she is. She doesn't know how long it's been or where "here" is, but she's alive. That's the important part. Even if her left eye and arm are still covered in bandages. She winces and runs a hand through her hair. There's something tugging at her attention, whispers and voices and emotions at the edges of her head that seem to want to grab at her attention or threaten to force their way into her head. Stuff that she can't quite identify or place as her own (although they feel like they could be hers). She winces and reaches back to free herself form the tube (this feels strangely familiar) and levers herself over the edge of the pod.

Her legs fold under her as she hits the deck and she goes down with a flurry of cursing in German. It's loud in the enclosed room. Probably loud enough to attract attention, if the 'thud' wasn't. ]


Ghosts

[ The station is eerie. An abandoned spire in a slowly decaying orbit over a dead world. They're supposed to find something here. She's not sure what. A weapon or a device or something that's supposed to help them in their never-ending fighting against... whoever it is they're fighting. At least the Angels were a little more clearly defined. Then again, humanity lost that war in the end, so who gives a crap? Asuka sure doesn't. Or she tells herself that and buries her emotions as deep as she can, because like Hell is she going to think about the world she left behind.

It's hard not to draw comparisons though, especially as she picks her way through the dust. The oxygen scrubbers are still working away, somewhere in the bowels of the massive structure, so at least they can breathe. There are hull breaches here and there, though, so getting too comfortable isn't really advisable. But she's stopped here, amid the debris and wreckage of a civilization that felt the need to build this thing, so she can stare out an observation window. Below them, the planet continues in it's never-ending turn, the surface burnt brown, the oceans turned to dust. Something happened. Maybe that's why they're here. She stares for a long moment and anyone passing nearby catches a flash of red sea and sand and a giant, staring head of white flesh and crimson eyes, rising above the horizon like the sun.

Then she turns away with an angry snort and the moment passes. ]

What are we even supposed to be looking for? There's nothing here but dust and run-down machinery!

[ She kicks a piece of debris and it goes skidding down the hallway into shadow, the sound echoing in the empty station. ]

What a waste of time.

Wildcard

[ You know the drill. ]

ghosts

[revolutionized]

[Geez, it's creepy here. Utena takes in the dismal, dead atmosphere without fear though, with a fascination that is open and innocent. It was like something out of a movie, some long abandoned place left to fester, grown dilapidated. Forgotten. Utena passes through the wreckage with the light-footed grace of an athlete, only to skid to a stop near Asuka.

At a respectable distance. Since they'd started this creepy mission, the other girl has been dismissive at best and aggressive at worst. Utena lets her rage roll off her back like water off a duck, though. She is too self-assured, too comforted by the notion (however false) that this is a strange dream, or some weird temporary pass-through before she returns home, to be upset.

Besides, she makes friends easily, and so takes this skill for granted. She leans forward, propping her arms on the dusty sill of the observation window to regard the fallen majesty beneath them. Whistles, low and impressed.]

Even so, it's kinda cool. I wonder who built all this stuff.

Damon | OC

[grimaced]

[Damon seems reserved, which might almost give him that Cool Brooding Guy angle if it wasn't pretty obvious that he's just socially awkward and incredibly shy. He doesn't make a habit of talking much, and when he does there is sort of an odd reverberation to his voice. Other point of interest is that he seems to be some kind of spellcaster? So that's neat.]

i. SCUM ALWAYS LIVES.

[There's been a lot of new things to experience, but to some degree, some things really don't change, and Damon is quickly starting to realize that.

The planet overall is literally shady in every respect; little light seems to reach it, but somehow it remains warm anyway. He hasn't inquired much about the specifics, but it certainly makes for a place where people can live off of others, using fear and strength to get what they want. Criminals are always going to exist, regardless of what planet you're from.

Not that Damon is exactly 100% law-abiding himself, but he doesn't particularly relate to these people, either.

He knows he should keep his focus on their current investigation -- locating important intel and interrogating a specific spy -- but Damon glances over his shoulder as a few scattered pirates corner someone. He's seen it enough times to know where this is going.

Damon glances at you, tilting his head, then turns away.]

...You go ahead.

[Because he definitely plans on getting involved.]


ii. THE RESCUE.

[It'd been a narrow escape. Definitely something out of a crazy adventure film, running out of a collapsing temple, avoiding traps and solving puzzles, there was probably a giant boulder involved at some point, and definitely a spike pit to vault over.

But you did it. Both of you did! Damon is panting, clutching the delicate looking glowing chalice in his hands, looking wearily over his shoulder as he watches the building collapse into itself.]

Sheesh, that was almost us...

[Damon offers you a tiny smile of relief, taking a step forward.

It happens like slow motion. The tip of his boot knocks against the root of a tree, and he starts to fall forward. There's a horrified expression on his face as he loses grip on the chalice.

It falls, and definitely shatters against the ground just before Damon catches himself by grabbing onto a branch, then he looks down at the pieces on the ground as it really sinks in what just happened.]

...Uhhh.

[He immediately panics, reaching into his pack and flipping his spellbook open.]

M-maybe I can fix it!

[Damon definitely can't fix it.]


iii. WILDCARD.

[Choose your own adventure, or I can write a specific prompt for you! Let me know!]

2

[shiro2hero]

Yeah... yeah, tell me about it.

[Tell the guy who this happens to on a regular basis all about it, buddy. This is just another Tuesday in Space, as far as he's concerned. The bloody nose he's sporting is also the result of Just Another Space Tuesday.]

[Luckily that part was his own fault.]

[But he's offering up a lopsided smile to his companion, and reaching out to attempt to clasp Damon on the shoulder...]

[As. The poor guy just. Faceplants. And all he can do is stare in mute horror at the remains on the ground.]

... this is fine.

gladiolus amicitia / ffxv

[lilies]

( gladio comes off as shockingly easy-going and friendly for someone of his size and stature, quick to make a good impression. he is also intensely observant of new people and surroundings, taking in everyone and everything. much of his more volatile emotions are kept under wraps here, things like rage and grief fastened down with tight-lipped control, though being somewhere new might ramp this up somewhat. )

I. GET UP/STATION 72

[ it feels like surfacing, cutting the water but weighted down with lead all the same. his entire body feels cast from iron, aching in different places, strange and new and hot. he doesn't quite take his time, but he's not in a rush either, stomach feeling like it's about to turn over, limbs deciding that they don't quite want to work in the way he wants them to. grab here, pull here, push here.

for fuck's sake he feels like a goddamned noodle.

the feeling in the back of his mind hasn't left, little threads beginning to pull like hot pinpricks behind his eyes, sensations, voices that he doesn't remember possessing, thought processes that'd never cross his mind just blurred whispers in the background.

but once he's up and out of the pod, he's out for good, though moving sluggishly with a hand pressed to the back of his neck, as if he's trying to find where these voices are and pull them out by force (out out outoutoutoutout) like a tidal wave of thought that he isn't ready for. he stops just by the entry of where the room gives way to the hall, his nesting pod still wide open, and he takes a breath, pressing his temples to the cool material of the threshold, fingers curling a little bit where his hair has grown long. this isn't home--the smells (sterile metal and heat), the sounds (the hum of the machines, too quiet, not human), the sensation (smooth surfaces, the gentlest of vibrations beneath his fingertips).

he doesn't quite know where he's going, but give him a few minutes and he'll start walking. any minute now. annnnnnny minute. ]

II. DON'T DIE/THE MASQUERADE & THE COURT/OH GOD WE HECKED UP/ALL THE THINGS

[ an observational scouting mission gone sour. that is what this is. and now you're in the thick of it. ]

Get down!

[ gladio's arm shoots out quickly pushing whomever is with him beside a thick, elegantly-carved column. something just misses the both of them, grazing the carved stone pillar and leaving behind a residual heat and sound (zrrrrrrmnnnnnnnn!) that basically says "vaporized from this existence." it's pure instinct really, to pull whomever he's with in close beside him. the entire affair was practically waiting to explode really, a group of ritzy diplomats and royal envoys and their even glitzier masquerade to which they'd managed to pull invitations from. the tension in the air had been palpable upon entering the great doors.

too much fancy alien booze and a few foreign insults later and the party had blown up.

catastrophically.

like assassination attempt catastrophic, but with so many important people in one place, it was bound to happen. lights shattering from the vaulted ceilings and people shrieking, masks flying, bodies falling. of course, the native dress doesn't make for much comfortable movement--thick synthetics that are cloud-like to the skin and wrapped in layers and layers of shimmering color. it's not like the clothing isn't ruined already, stained dark with alien blood that smells foul. ]

You alright? [ he asks, half paying attention as he turns on the material with his teeth, tearing the seam along both his arms to make his movement a little more free and open as he reaches for a severed table leg that's skittered close to their narrow shelter. the weight of it is hefty in his palm and while it's not sword, it's going to do for now.

they're pinned, but it's not really like they had much of a place to go before that shot was fired anyway. now it just seems like a trigger happy free for all with lasers, food, and bodies flying every which way.

royalty. jeez. ]

III. WILDCARD

[ don't hug me im scared aka hit me with your best shot. be extra embarrassing. show him space cup noodles. ]

slams in here with II.....tho wildcard space cup noodles was tempting too

[somnifacient]

[Yeah, royalty. Jeez.

Noctis presses his back against the large column, gritting his teeth against all the chaos, still feeling the residual heat of what he believes was probably something akin to a laser beam blasting past. Figures that a scouting mission would have escalated into a literal explosion, but he can't say he's surprised. The tension had been thick ever since they entered, to the point where Noct felt needlessly tense even before everything turned pear-shaped. And now, it appeared that the proverbial rubber band had snapped, and here he is, pinned against a column with Gladio beside him.]

Been in worse situations.

[The reply is wry but nonetheless true. Still, Noctis reaches up to remove his ridiculous masquerade mask he had been wearing — gold and ostentatious, decorated to the brim with delicate filigree. It had been obscuring his perisperhal vision and poking into his cheekbones, so he’s glad to be rid of it, tossing it to the ground without much care.

He’s bold enough to peek around their cover, only briefly, but long enough to catch a glance at the surrounding chaos. There are already a fair amount of alien bodies crumpled to the ground, rancid blood pooling around them. An exchange of fire takes place farther back, though a stray laser hits the column rather close to Noct’s face, which prompts him to shrink back to safety rather quickly.

He opens his mouth to say something, but stops when he catches glance of Gladio grabbing hold of a table leg.]

Gonna knock them out with a table? [Table leg, Noct. Table leg.

He extends an arm, calling forth with his magic a hulking greatsword that he had acquired from a previous mission. (By now he has a small collection going, tucked away with his magic; he figures it can't hurt, and in situations like this, he's proven right.) It appears in its usual fanfare of crystalline blue light, a sight that should obviously be rather mundane to Gladio.]

How about an upgrade? [He offers the weapon to him.]

[viperfire]

[ Nasu seems like a calm, chill sort of girl. Her voice is quiet, she's short and slight, and her appearance and manner gives off the sense that she's not all that physically vigorous. Nothing to see here... except she's some sort of squad captain? She misses her friends. ]

THE RESCUE
Nasu walked out of the way of the main flow of traffic, along side streets and high walkways, surfacing every now and then to peek out at the immense constructions that made up the city center. It might have reminded her of Tokyo... if its inhabitants weren't so uniformly alien to her.

Still, the little squares were filled with lush plantlife, and there were countless sights and scents to take in. She had stopped to inquire about a spray of flowers when the explosion went off. As she watched, one of those many-floored, sleek building fronts sheared off of its main body and came down in an almost completely vertical fashion. The insides were laid open in cross-section, all in the midst of screams and incoherent shouts and instructions.

"Trigger on." Her words were drowned in the hubbub, and few noticed the brief interval in which her clothes changed to what looked like something between a uniform and a white jumpsuit. She was running toward the site of the explosion at once.

IT'S A RACE AGAINST TIME
As the ship's engines stuttered to a stop, its passengers were left to gather abovedecks if they wanted, to take a little gander at their destination: a craggy island, ringed with marsh plants and jagged edges of rock. An inhospitable landing point indeed -- or it would have been, if the plan had been to land there. Nasu, for one, wasn't about to miss the opportunity to get the first look at the mission objective.

"I think I read a book about this once," she mused, half to herself. "An ingenious but troubled man, paranoid and hunted, constructs an underwater prison to hide his treasure in. After he dies, no one knows exactly how to retrieve it -- only that it's filled with deadly traps."

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE
8')

Sara Ryder | Mass Effect: Andromeda

[profallsional]

1. Pentara Prime: Explore

Abandoned cities are nothing new for Ryder. Even in the Milky Way, she had worked on recovering Protean artifacts, and spent plenty of time digging into ancient, old ruins. But this was different. These weren't old, crumbling ruins that she was poking around, untouched for hundreds of years. This city was still alive--gardens flourishing, fruit heavy on branches. And yet, not a single person to be seen.

It was unnerving, to say the least.

Cautiously, half-expecting some kind of...something to jump out at her, Ryder takes slow steps across the garden, armored boot sinking into the soft grass. If Liam were here, he'd be telling me about a horror movie similar to this, she muses, picking a strange fruit off of a branch. And if Cora were here, she continues in thought, as she scans the fruit with her omnitool, she'd finally have her rose garden. And if any of her crew were here, they would probably be giving her shit for dissecting their potential reactions to this place. They'd tease her for missing them.

They'd be right.

"This just in, famous pathfinders saves the Nexus, defeats the Kett, hailed hero of the Andromeda galaxy, dies from single piece of fruit." And despite her pessimistic mutterings, she holds the strange fruit up to take a bite.

2. Chorus: Get up

When Ryder had been at the summit of the pit, she had thought to herself, That's a long way down. Having promptly thereafter plunged to what she had been sure would be an incredibly ironic death, she had assumed that her last thought would be confirmation that it was, indeed, a long way down.

But she didn't die. In fact, sprawled at the bottom of the pit in an inelegant heap as she was, she felt more alive than she had any right to feel. She didn't feel great, but she was definitely at least one step up from 'horrible, painful death'. Maybe two. Slowly, with low grunts of pain, she experimentally moved her limbs. They all hurt, but that was a good sign. And they all moved, which was even better. An attempt at standing, however, was quickly put down--that is, it was Ryder that was downed, but the idea was, too. Metaphorically.

Hopefully, no scavengers were desperate enough to try poking around and see an easy target. Knowing her luck, she decided against taking the chance. A quick and elegant scoot across the bottom of the pit put her back against a bolder, and her pistol was pulled out. If a group happened across her, she'd be screwed, but at least it'd put off any lone idiots.

Time to try out that weird...symbiote...telepathy thing. She was generally disinclined to trying it out, but. Well. It beat nothing. Closing her eyes, she took a breath, and tried to reach out. Hello...? Checking, checking, one two three. This...is probably wrong. At least no one else can witness me being embarrassing. Unless this is working, in which case. Hi. I'm Sara Ryder and I'm embarrassing.

[earthborn]

Hi. I'm Sara Ryder and I'm embarrassing.

Shepard was busy, the first time she heard Sara Ryder's voice. Or-- 'voice' since the tone was less about anyone's voice, and more an impression, devoid of association. Physically, Shepard was most of the way through a box of granola bars, masquerading as a chalky, sub-par kind of chocolate bar, when she first heard it. You got this, every now and then, with new people. You were all interconnected, bound by the brainstem, and yet you didn't actually meet one another until much later.

( Hold your position. ) The mental reply to Sara's SOS is implacable and burning, like the almost physical weight of summer sunlight's worst days,( I'm on my way. )

So, Shepard put down her box, let the others know she had the emergency handled, and set off from camp. It's not like she was doing anything important, but still: how you gonna wander off on an alien planet, and then fall down a hole?

"You Ryder?" She calls down into the sinkhole, perhaps twenty minutes walk later, "How the hell did you even get down there?"

nyx ulric // ffxv: kingsglaive

[servitor]

the rescue

[As it comes, so it goes. Nyx knows about borrowed time.

A little too well, at that.

Racing, racing, racing, it all goes so fast, and what he's got is even less time to think about how fast it's going. One foot in front of the other, at breakneck speed, callused and tattooed fingers wrapped tightly around the hilts of his sibling daggers.

Get the goods, get the hell out. That was the mission.

The purple ribbons of his uniform fly wildly in the wind as he sprints across a now deathtrap. He'd been told the place could collapse. He counted on it actually collapsing.]

I need somewhere to go!

[He yells at no one, everyone, anyone listening. With brute, sheer force, he throws a kukri clean across a crumbling floor. In a flash of glass and ember, he disappears, reappears where his kukri stabbed a barely stable column. The relic is secured in a pouch beneath the jacket of his uniform. What it does, he has no idea, nor does he care at this point. He'd really like to get out alive.

He'd really like for the scars on his face to stop itching at such a crappy time.]

Hey! Where's the exit?!

the melting pot

[Somehow, there's just too much to see. It reminded him of Insomnia, the crush of people that came through in sporadic waves. He'd been among them.

No surprise he felt himself something akin to... familiarity. Not home. Just familiarity.

Nyx weaves through the crowd, back straight, shoulders relaxed. Some few stop to look at him, the lightning-like scars spreading from his temples to the edges of his eyes, his cheeks. All he can do is run his fingers down the length of the scars to appease the incessant itching.]

Hey, you know of any good food around here? Or a medic?

[For reasons painfully obvious.]

wildcard

[the whatever prompt]

tumbles in here late -- melting pot

[somnifacient]

[It is familiar, in the way Insomnia was a swath of people at all times — the way Noctis weaves in and out of the crowd is almost practiced, though he feels as if he’ll never get used to alien planets, no matter how long he’s been torn away from Eos.

Even so, the voice calling out to him is enough to make Noctis turn around, to face the individual asking for food, or even more worryingly, for a medic. A whirl on his heel, and he turns to face Nyx.

He opens his mouth to respond, but words don’t come out — eyes flickering to the scars around the man’s eyes, eyes that belong to a face he’s pretty certain he’s seen before.]

I…

[Noctis, eloquent as always. His fingers flex, the Ring of the Lucii brushing against his knuckles. A pang of something rising in his chest. Mostly, it’s surprise.]

mat cauthon | wheel of time

[calhar]

( Mental links with Mat will be a little confusing. His memories have a lot of small and reasonably inconsequential gaps in them, and they also span hundreds of years and lives, meaning they'll be inconsistent. The general vibe will be a sense of timelessness, a disorienting lack of identity, and probably a lot of wariness/paranoia in response to any kind of mental hijinks. He's got awful self control, so his thoughts will generally be a big loud mess. I'm also playing w/the idea of his ability being power augmentation, so characters' abilities can trigger spontaneously in threads. )

(ONE) THE SCEPTRE/COURT/INFILTRATE

( A whole bloody universe away and lords still manage to get in the way. )

[ Whoever's stuck on this mission with Mat: congratulations, you drew the short straw. The sounds of the party on the other side of the wall are muted by the high, sleek walls, but he's got enough sense to keep his mouth shut (and his mind open, reluctantly) as he tugs sullenly on the sleeves of a coat that's too bright and too silk for his liking. ]

( What happens when they ask why we didn't use the front door? )

[ The servants' entrance had been the only one they could hack. That left them in what was basically the coat closet, currently, if a very glamorous one. Mat can come up with a few excuses for walking out of a closet at a party, but they mostly involve kissing and heavy petting, which—

Hard pass. While he's got the courtesy not to propose those ideas, however, that isn't going to stop anyone from skimming them off the top of his thoughts. ]

(TWO) PENTARA PRIME/GHOST/RACE

[ Dead cities are getting to be too much of a habit. This one looks different from the rest, on the surface — all lush green and polished metal, too rich to even have the decency to rust. Sometimes, a door or wall or screen will flicker to life, bright and alien enough for him to startle every single bloody time. Not visibly, maybe, because he's not completely made of milk, but the instinctive flinch still ripples across the mental link. ]

Burn that witch.

[ If his partner doesn't make the instant connection to Cathaway, the link will quickly fill in the blanks. Mat frowns heavily at a control panel as it glitches to life in front of him, opting to turn away from the door entirely instead of trying to coax it open. ]

And burn this dead bloody city. If it's hiding something so great, why's it in ruins?

[ Doesn't look the same, but it feels the same. Trading in stone walls for metal ones doesn't make it feel any less empty, or haunted, or like bad news waiting to happen. The memory of a ruby-hilted dagger stirs in his mind, followed by the steady build of what feels like rattling dice. ]

(THREE) WILDCARD

( Feel free to write up a totally different starter, or assume your character's playing long-distance backup for mental link threads on either of the above! )

TWO

[artifica]

[ There is little difference, to her, between a dead city and a living city. It functions still. Doors open and close. Lights turn on. Signs tell them where to go next. The city is as alive, to her, as if it were filled with people rather than machines tuned to function the way they are supposed to for centuries and centuries, meant to outlast their creators. Her mind is calm, filled with a sense of belonging, like a slot fitting perfectly into place.

When he turns away from the door, Ava steps in, resting her fingers on the panel. She is gentle, patient, like pleading with an infant to open its mouth to receive nourishment. There, there. The panel flickers and dies as the door slides open. ]

Are you angry? At this city.

[ And Cathaway. What does it say of her that she knows to keep this unsaid? Her eyes are on him, childlike in her curiosity. ]

Why?

alex ( oxenfree )

[radionics]

I. PENTARA PRIME
THE RAIDERS MARCH.MP3

All right!

[ seventeen, her teal-dyed hair swept into a ponytail and garbed in an oversized red hunting jacket, alex looks like she has just been given free passes to a music festival. the stillness and quiet of the world contrasts alex’s bubbly enthusiasm: bright and contagious and as visible on her as it is experienced through the shared bond. it contrasts too with her stepbrother who is significantly less enthused and more resigned than tranquil. jonas, nonetheless, remains by her as always. family > broods, now and always.

alex does not think of that, however. or of jonas or of the possible dangers they may face in a new planet. even thoughts of family — of the mother she hasn’t seen, the stepfather she was getting to know — never far or long out of mind — have briefly given way to her delight. her eyes glint in excitement. a mystery to uncover. an alien mystery to uncover. ]

We've got an important mission so… [ alex claps her hands together in front of her. a grin splits her face as she looks from jonas to the unfortunate, third individual who also happens to be present, the poor bastard — ] Who’s up for a scavenger hunt?

II. THE SCEPTRE
STUCK IN A LOOP

[ across the bond shoots a sharp interruption as if of radio interference. the strange sensation originates from and coincides with alex, marching ahead, who stops abruptly mid-step. her foot comes down smartly, and she whirls around. her ponytail whips around to crash against her ear. she takes no notice of it. ]

Nope! No!

[ her hands grab the other’s arm. flickers of image, shapes made of static, surge from the point of contact: a window ceding; the vast, clear emptiness stretching far below them to the uninhabitable ground; and a human figure falling, falling.

alex tugs insistently. ]

We don't want to go that way. We want to go, uh, any other way. [ she points behind them for good measure. ] Trust me. Come on.

III. THE STATION
SUMMER MIXES

[ alex only stumbled across the pool the first time on accident. almost literally so. confused, lost, increasingly frustrated and still half in awe with the strangeness of the station, she nearly slipped in a puddle of water.

she didn’t. and thank goodness for that. her “cool” reputation couldn’t take a slip and fall being broadcast to her entire brood and the nest by extension via abrupt pain to coccyx.

the second time is easier. she finds places easier now. alex isn’t sure if she’s just learning the layout or is ~subconsciously tapping into a map of the layout. neither one is exactly comforting.

she is still a pretty poor swimmer. that’s why she decided to spend the day at the pool. alex ties up her hair into a messy bun and changes into a swimsuit ( “just my size. nice. definitely not creepy at all.” ) in the water, she spends more time kicking the water in the shallow end and hugging the pool edge in the deep. she puts her chin on her hands. the radio that got her and her friends into this mess sits in front of her, playing only static.

alex sighs loudly. ]

You know, you could at least catch a station somewhere. What are you even good for?

[ talking to an inanimate object as if it can respond. officially cross that off of the “going crazy” bucket list. ]

( if none of these work for you, feel free to wildcard one! jonas may ( almost definitely will ) show up in threads to glare at everyone; overprotective brothers gonna overprotect, yo. )

I .

[juvies]

Think I'll tap out on this one.

[Even as he says it, with a wry twist of his mouth, it's clear he doesn't mean it. In comparison to Alex's bright eyed enthusiasm and quick motion of clasped hands, so ready to get moving he's sure in a minute she'll start bouncing on her toes- he's more resigned to the inevitable, and painfully still. His arms are crossed over his chest in what he's meant to appear casual, but really look a little more defensive.

There's an unease that flickers around the edge of the connection, whenever Jonas looks away from Alex or another fellow host who happens to wander too closely. Everything about this place- the long winding roads, the lush green, the complete quiet, reminds him of where he's just been. Scaling rock faces, and running down steep paths, chasing after letters and rock towers, and running from-

Too many things now, none of which seemed to have followed them here. Nothing but that feeling that as idyllic as this place is, there's something about it that's not quite right. Like looking at two photos side by side, and having to spot the difference. It's not immediately visible, but it's there. He's not sure he wants to find out what it is.

Curiousity got them here. Him needing to know what the sound in the cave had been, had to follow that eerie green glow into a towering cavern. He'd dragged his stepsister into this mess, when he should have been doing nothing but buffering her from Clarissa and keeping an eye on her to make sure she didn't drink too much. Instead, he'd gotten her to tune into- a nightmare.

It'd be almost shocking, that Alex is still Alex beneath all of that- but he's glad of it. He hadn't wanted the experience to ruin a place that held so many memories for her, had grown attached to her and not wanted her to change into someone new. And, maybe- just maybe her enthusiasm would be warranted, and it's him that's just projecting unease onto a place that might just really be paradise-

Either way, he's never managed to stop her before on a half baked plan, and he knows he's got no chance at it now. If nothing else, at least unease has made him observant, and he's well practiced at hunting for strange objectives]

Just try and take it easy on me, this time. [Amusement trickles down toward her, not any less wry, and he shoots her a grin to match. It's strange, the feeling of being able to project what he's feeling, without having to shift his face to match- but not so much that he yet feels the kneejerk reaction to try and stop it from happening.

But seriously, there has been too much running in so short a time. His lungs can't take anymore]

Aloy | Horizon Zero Dawn | Open

[huntsmachines]

[ Aloy comes from something of a strange tribal world where the dominant lifeform is semi-organic machines and scattered human tribes and kingdoms. This is the Earth after an apocalypse. This post and replies will contain spoilers for Horizon Zero Dawn so consider yourself fairly warned. If neither of these options really do it for you, feel free to hit me with something else! ]

1. Space, the Final Frontier

Aloy had read and heard of ancient vessels that had left Earth in an attempt to assure humanity's survival among the stars. They had failed, from what she had gathered. But this was what they had left the cradle of the Earth for? She pressed her nose flat against the view port in front of her, eyes wide as she stared out at the unblinking stars. They winked and sparkled on Earth--why were they so still out here? There's a sense of awe, confusion, even mild fear that radiates from her to anyone else in the Nest's mental network. She steps back from the view port after a long moment, brow furrowing.

"It was that bad that they thought this was safer." It's not meant for anyone in particular. Just herself. When you grow up as an outcast orphan with no friends, you get in the habit of muttering to yourself when you want to hear a human voice.

"It's so empty, though..." Empty, dark and cold. Nothing like the warm cradle of Earth. She shook her head. Maybe this she would never understand.

"Desperate times, I guess?"

2. The lights are on but...

Aloy was used to abandoned places and old ruins. Maybe not so much ones that hung in space, but scrambling through corridors wasn't new. The Scepter. Heh. Reminded her of the Spire. Still, being here set the skin on the back of her neck to prickling in a way she didn't like. It reminded too much of being stalked. But maybe that was just her paranoia. This place was empty, abandoned but... in a way that felt eerily recent. A steaming mug of some hot drink or other laying next to an open book. Screens that still flickered with their indecipherable read outs and strange languages. The cheerily lit rooms where fake turf and artificially scented air tried to grasp some of the wonder of unfettered nature and failed. It was in one of these rooms that one might find Aloy. She's crouched in the fake grass, examining a ball--a plaything for children or for exercise.

"What happened to you?" She's murmuring to herself. The usual nonsense. Her focus isn't being much use at the moment and here in these sterile corridors she feels out of place and a little out of her depth. She lifts a hand, runs it idly through the mass of red braids that spills down her back.

"How is everyone just gone? Did they leave?"

1.

[earthborn]

"It's not called space for nothing," Shepard replied. New day, new host, same shit as always; maybe she shouldn't be so surprised to see someone dressed in what looks like somebody's idea of primitive savage leather and beading going crazy over the view. She wouldn't be the first, and probably not the last.

"Humans have been in space for a few hundred years," Shepard continues, taking pity. The girl probably didn't even see her here, sitting against the wall and working at minor armor repairs, "Most of the other races have had it for thousands. It's a predictable hazard-- you fuck up, you die. Survival requires perfection out here, but... the enemy you know, right?"

Right.

"Some people even like it. Go figure."

Jesse McCree | Overwatch

[deadeyebamf]

[[OOC: Jesse is impulsive, hot-headed, and uses humor and his quick wit as a defense mechanism to keep anyone from getting too close, though he tends towards being friendly in most situations. He has a pretty strong moral compass, it just points to his own version of justice.]]

I. Don't Die

[Aliens aside, Jesse has determined that this place wasn't all that much different than what he was up to back home... Well, besides the telepathy and his newfound abilities. He rolled behind a set of crates, patting his pocket with the data chip as he came upright again. Guns fired, but these ones didn't use bullets, unlike his trusty Peacekeeper, instead leaving scorched holes in the wall just past his head.]

"I think our welcome's worn out. We should leave."

[That was all the warning he gave before ducking out around the corner again, taking two shots and missing one. The other dropped its target, and he took the opportunity of confusion among the rest of their adversaries to move forward more. Their shuttle out of here was on the other side of all this bullshit, they just had to make it through without also getting full of holes. Easier said than done, but Jesse'd faced worse odds.]

II. Pentara Prime

[It's almost completely quiet here, or as quiet as he suspected it'd ever get. Jesse is sprawled across a bench in the middle of one of the lush gardens, head on his hands, hat set on his chest, staring up at the sky. It's not Earth, that's for sure, but it reminds him of home in some ways. Well, maybe not home home, but he'd been places with gardens like this.

Central Park in New York, even after all the development and the Omnic Crisis, had managed to stay a little piece of nature in the middle of the huge city. This place reminded him of that. Quiet, in the middle of all kinds of bustle. The activity of the city is certainly nothing to compare to Manhattan proper, but it came close in most of the other ways.]

III. Infiltrate

[Just like one of Reyes' old espionage plans, Jesse found himself all gussied up and mingling with fancy folk. Too fancy for the likes of him, but he could play it just as good as anyone, which was why he was here. He was good at making people like him, of drawing attention, attention away from someone else. And the bonus now was he could give them tips without batting an eye or having to excuse himself to whisper into a comm or some shit like that.

Admittedly, the symbiote had its uses. Sure made covert ops easier, that was for damn sure.]

IV. Space, The Final Frontier

[Jesse had never imagined he'd see the stars from anywhere besides on a big empty expanse of New Mexico desert with the Milky Way spreading across the sky and striking him speechless (which was a feat in and of itself). It was nothing like actually being in space. There weren't many places to stand and stare at the stars, but the ones that there were, he usually found himself stopping for just a few minutes to gawk at it through the window. Who knew anything could be so vast or black or endless...

He placed his metal hand against the glass, leaning into it, not quite pressing his forehead to it, but it was a close thing, eyes wide as he stared up in wonder.]

V. Wildcard

[Your choice or let me know if you have an idea and we can brainstorm]

jesssseeeee // 1

[servitor]

No need to tell me twice.

[He throws his kukri far and, possibly stupidly, into the middle of the fray. At this point? He's already faced much worse odds than a variety pack of aliens.

Nyx disappears, reappears instantly dead ass in the middle of enemy territory, much to said enemy's surprise. A clean slice across a throat, and he's gone again, in what seems to be flash broken glass and fire. He briefly reforms again, just to stab two more enemies. Sure, it's probably smarter to get going, but wasn't his last direct order on the battlefield one he conveniently chose to ignore?

Better to thin out the crowd, to be the distraction.

The kukri lands not too far from Jesse, and with it comes Nyx, in a literal blaze as he reforms.]

Get moving, I can hold them off.

[Big Damn Hero, at it again, because he's really not the one who has to make it out anyway.]

Zohar | Original Character

[kabbalah]

((zohar isn't so much secretive as she is fairly good at omission. she's also not a fan of talking, although she will engage in conversation if approached. rather than picking up things from her, whoever goes peeking through the nest is going to find a whole lot of empty space; she's kind of an emotional null half the time; the other half she's a flurry of emotions, although she's a master of the poker face. Zohar doesn't talk about herself or her past, but whoever's seen her in action will note a militaristic touch to the way she moves and acts. she's not violent, but when she applies violence it's usually brutal and definitive.))

station 72

a. (re)rise and shine, buttercup

[ After what feel like slogging through the densest mist to have ever existed, Zohar comes to. Comes to where, she has no idea.

Memories seep slowly through the white that still remains in her head as she slowly puts the pieces together. She had been aboard the Shekinah when the ship was attacked and while they were in no danger, their position had been compromised, thus making the whole "let us meet with the rest of the Occult Resistance" plan all the more complicated. The rest comes slowly to her as she tries to ignore the searing pain on her forehead. It's familiar enough for her to know it's not physical, which both worries and angers her. Is someone trying to mess with her mind?

Sliding back against whatever structure she just managed to crawl out of, she sits down, eyes closed. Then she goes very, very still. No point on moving while she feels like a stray sock inside a washing machine. She can also get a vague sense of emotions and thoughts, although they're a backdrop to the pain still throbbing in her head. That only manages to anger her more.

Whoever gets close enough is certain to feel that anger, of course. It's equal parts hot and barely restrained and cold yet even deadlier, seeping from her in waves. ]

b. an empty room

[ You can walk for hours before finding another person within the station... provided you're good enough to avoid then, which she is. It's a relief to find somewhere secluded where nobody's thoughts and emotions can reach her anymore. While Zohar has been pretty civil about the whole deal she has also explicitly stated her distaste for the whole symbiote situation, although she has no interest to go into particulars. It's not the first time her mind has been compromised and she hoped that would've been the last.

But there's nothing interesting about a lonely young woman sitting in the middle of a huge empty room, right? Which is why things might take a more interesting turn when someone accidentally enters the room. Perhaps you were talking a stroll, or maybe you got turned around trying to find a bathroom. Or maybe you were even looking for her? Who knows. Whatever the reason, Zohar doesn't seem to notice the new arrival to the room at first, but when she does... ]

Do you need anything.

[ It's more a demand than a question. She's sitting on the floor, cross-legged, looking in the opposite direction of the entrance. Super welcoming, seriously. ]

scum, scum never changes

[ Zohar doesn't only ignores the name of the planet she's currently in, leave alone the city. She also doesn't give a single flying fuck to try and find out. She was all but kicked out of the ship after staying in the same dark corner for the last three missions. So here she is, walking aimlessly while the rest are doing whatever they're supposed to be doing. She didn't ask and they didn't tell her (or the did tell her but she ignored them, most likely). The market she's walking through at the moment reminds her of some places back in her world, specially the poor, oppressed ones. Booths that are no more than sticks and pieces of cloth, merchants that look equal parts untrustworthy and desperate, goods that are either rotten or stolen. It's similar enough to allow her to delude herself for a minute that she's back in her world.

Even the petty thieves are similar, like the pair that put a knife to her back on a seemingly empty street. Zohar is more surprised at how lame their threats are than the fact she's effectively getting mugged. But she's in a relatively good mood today, so she decides to at least try to give them a chance to walk away intact. ]

If you leave now, I won't hurt you.

[ Her words do nothing besides increasing the pressure of the knife against her side, although it's not enough to pierce her skin yet. The thieves don't look all that intimidated, but Zohar doesn't look intimidating per se. Exhausted? Yes. Disheveled? That too. Pale to the point of unhealthiness? Sure. Not the best look to scare someone away. ]

Last warning.

[ Her words seem to be in vain though. Well, she did tell them. ]

extra

[

1. Asume anything
2. Insert prompt
3. Receive awesomeness.

]

Alistair | Dragon Age

[adorabastard]

(Picture a large dog that hasn't figured out he won't fit in someone's lap, but insists on trying anyway. Add in that dog being a military/war dog. Now add a slew of loss (he's a rescue), a serious protective drive, and no desire to be the leader of his pack ... which, oops, he is. BOOM. Alistair.)

PENTARA PRIME

[ Things that Alistair shouldn’t do on an unknown world: wander off on his own to look for interesting relics.

[ Things that Alistair has done on this unknown world: wandered off on his own, found an artifact of probable religious importance, and brought it back to share. ]

Have you seen anything like this? [ Wow that sure does look intricate and valuable and probably shouldn’t have been touched. ] And before you ask: no, seeing this one doesn’t count as seeing something like this.

STATION 72

[ After nearly an hour of walking, then jogging, then sprinting down the same corridor, Alistair has finally had enough. ]

Sweet Andraste, WHERE DOES IT END?!

[ Alas, poor, panting Alistair. He doesn’t realize that this particular corridor is just one veeeeeery large circle. ]

[ears prick up] DURGEN URGE (also station)

[lavelly]

[At the dulcet, echoey tones of Alistair's voice, Lavellan manages to find his way toward the poor lost little dude. It's okay, he still gets confused around here too. It's windy. No judgment.

He's still unused to seeing Alistair a) alive and b) about ten years younger than he should be. It means he still stumbles a bit awkwardly to speak to him, because how do you casually chat with a guy you remember leaving to die.]

Ah--Alistair. [Do they have the kind of relationship where he can call him Alistair? Stop worrying about it, idiot.] Do you need some help?

Yunoha Thrul | Aquarion Evol

[tentatively]

Wake up:

[When Yunoha abruptly wakes up she manages to stifle the cry that threatened to escape her- unfortunately she can't stop the way she jerkily sits up in her pod in a disoriented manner. The teen reaches a hand up to rub at her eyes, her body sluggish, dazed, not all quite there.] N-Nngh.. [When her vision clears up she takes the moment to glance around, panic beginning to form in the pits of her stomach. Where was she? The memories rush back into her fast and quick and Yunoha struggles hold the panic at bay. She remembers a losing battle with an unknown entity, hopelessness beginning to settle in the hearts of her and her teammates. Then there was an offer that could save them and the planet and she accepted without hesitation before darkness swooped in to claim her.]

N-No.. I-.. A-Amata? Mikono!? [She calls out her friend's names in desperate hope for an answer but finds it dwindling down when silence greets her.

-And then she hears something else instead that causes her body to tremble from fright, confusion, her anxiety spiking up to levels that would be most likely be felt uncomfortably. The voices were whispers at the moment, and it was hard to differentiate between them. It made her head throb, a whimper coming out of her.]

W-What.. [Her arms curl around Tama which she brings to her chest, one hand fisting into her hair which she tugs. Where were the voices coming from? She wanted them to stop! ( I-I don't like this.. I'm scared! ) She broadcasts this out desperately, her anxiety and terror palpable through the mind link. The voices coming in and out terrify her, make her want to scratch at herself to stop the sensation. Frantically she pulls herself up and out of the pod, legs crumbling when they make contact with the ground. With how overwhelmed Yunoha was currently feeling she can't stop the tears from filling her eyes, a small sniffle escaping her.

someone save this poor child.]

Explore:

[It doesn't take long for Yunoha to hesitantly accept the situation that she was in. She didn't like the idea of being away from her teammates and friends, from the home she's ever known but there wasn't much she could do about it at this point. The voices were still there, a constant reminder of the thing implanted in her and she tries to ignore it the best she could- Which in her case, was pretty bad.]

[Curiosity, of course, gets the better of her and Yunoha begins to wander around, peeking into places with shining bright eyes. There was nothing else to do at the moment so she was simply taking in the sights of this strange new place.] ..O-Oh no.. I-I don't know where I am! [The place was so big it was no surprise that this was bound to happen eventually. She fidgets on her feet nervously, fingers tugging on the fabric of her mecha pilot uniform. ( H-Hello..? Uhm.. If anybody c-can hear me. I.. I don't know where I am. ) They would feel a wave of embarrassment from her and a bit of worry. It was the first time she ever used the link like this. ( I g-got lost.. ) Her voice sounds small even through the mind-link, arms clutching Tama tightly to her chest.

First day here and she was already making a fool of herself. Wonderful.]

Hikaru Hitachiin | Ouran High School Host Club

[moremischievous]

[ ooc: arrogant, immature, tactless, and missing something. anyone poking around his mind will feel a hollow, like a missing limb only so much worse, and the constant, sharp pain of loss. the source, if it can be glimpsed, seems to be a mirror vision of Hikaru himself. ]

the melted world

[ Hikaru leans against what may once have been a bush, or a car, or perhaps a rock. Now, it's a shapeless mirrored blob, upon which Hikaru has decided to plant his back and not move. Gold eyes are fixed on the sky, where no reflection of himself stares back. His expression is bored, but his discomfort is palpable; dig deeper, and there's anger and hurt as well. ]

Can we go already? This place is a dump.

pentara prime

[ The teenager has clambered on top of one of the low stone buildings to better inspect his surroundings. ]

Well, I don't see anybody.

[ He streeeeetches and just ... flops down, in the careless way in which teenage boys seem to excel. ]

This is way better than the Station. Why don't we all stay here?

pentara prime: part 2

[ Hikaru leaps from one roof to the next, sneakered feet scrambling for purchase as he barely, just barely, makes the jump. Behind him, the ground is crumbling, rapidly falling into a sinkhole that doesn't look like it's going to stop.... ]

I take it back, I take it back! Station, station, station!

pentara prime

[sociopathicwolf]

[ If most teenage boys excel in flopping down carelessly, this one - all right, he does, too. But mostly he excels in looming unexpectedly, which is what he does now, fixing Hikaru with a scowl. ]

If you have to ask that an explanation isn't going to help.

[ You're too stupid to get why would be the implication there. It's not that he thinks Hikaru is stupid in general, necessarily, just right now. ]

The Dragonborn | TES: V Skyrim

[fusrodaaaah]

(( Please forgive the lack of icons atm; here's a basic idea of his coloring. Amelius is a lizard-person. Average sized, with a tail and wearing armor. He has a physical symbiote ability, most likely, but I haven't figured out what it is. Nervous, twitchy, and likes cooking potions and food. Can also Shout someone across a room, whoops. ))

STATION ; EXPLORE
[A bipedal reptile in golden armor, carting around a sword and shield is probably not the usual, even for this station. He's crouched, hood pulled up over his face in lieu of a helmet, attempting to stick to whatever shadows he can find.]

[And probably looks ridiculous.]

[This is like nothing he's ever seen before. Not even the dusty halls of Dwemer ruins can compare. He doesn't know how he got here -- one moment he was talking (or rather rambling) to Paarthurnax, with the old dragon listening patiently, occasionally interjecting. And the next he was here?]

[It's even more terrifying than that first conversation with Meridia, in the skies. More than the Falmer.]

[But eventually, he finds the pool. And yellow, reptilian eyes light up. He's suddenly pulling his armor off, leaving it in a haphazard pile. And diving in.]

[Naked.]

[That's the Argonian way.]



PLANETSIDE ; RUN
[Amelius is screaming.]

[That's nothing new. But now there's no Thu'um to save him. He's just running for his life, in full armor. As the ground starts to crumble underneath him. Maybe, though, just maybe...]

Wuld... Nah-Kest!

[The words crack with power. Far more than his original shrieking. And, lo and behold, the Argonian begins sprinting like a whirlwind. His feet barely seeming to touch the ground.]


WILDCARD
[throw your own prompt I'm open to anything!]

Joichiro Nishi | Gantz

[fittestsurvival]

RHO - INTIMIDATION R1
+ Can suggest and coerce one other person to do something using fear.
- Must be in line of sight. Must use telepathy. Can only be used on one person at a time. Can be heard and interrupted by others. Lower-ranked telepathy can be faulty; extreme suggestions take longer (i.e. "kill yourself"). Fine print: migraines, partial blindness, malaise.

Station 72

Far away and fuzzy. Maybe it's staticky, interdimensional radio signals. A young, male voice says, it's just keeping them alive anyway like he's three galaxies over.

The further down the hexagonal hall you travel, the louder the initial thunking becomes. Rhythmic. A thunk,
a pause, another thunk, and then the quiet synthetic squeeze of gloves. You come out at the nesting deck, and the voice is right in the middle of your ears.

useless until it wants something
the rest of them can be idiots if they want

A boy in an odd, skin-tight black suit is sitting on an organic hump. He's tossing something back and forth between the neighboring wall, an emerald orb that he catches and throws, catches and throws. He glances up, feeling you, and the green ball rolls into the palm of his hand as it comes back.

You can see that it's an eyeball.

How much does a pirate pay for corn? A buccaneer.

[It feels like a drawn-out fetch quest. Joichiro and you are only trying to get the subtly radioactive material that will power what needs to be powered. But you both had to talk to one person, then they needed this, but to get this, you both had to talk to another person and they needed that, but to get that...

The pirates are peddling a brick of herbal aphrodisiac that's really a highly concentrated poison. They're being picky. Joichiro is too tired to bother using his "gift" to get what is needed.

His finger pulls the bottom trigger on the x-gun long before he raises it; the delay in firing is atrocious.] Blah, blah. No moron has to pay that for your shitty excuse of a drug if you're dead. [By the time it's pointed in the pirate's face, the charge is glowing on the skin. The pirate's face is lasered into four sections and explodes.

Hope you're ready for a fight; the rest of the crew is now up in arms.]

hanna king // original

[brickinthewall]

((hanna king is, to put it mildly, unhinged and hellbent on revenge. she's fully self-aware of what she has done and will do in her life is wrong, but has not a single care about it. as it stands she will use this perception of her being off the rails to her advantage and even play it up on purpose for the hell of it. underneath the revenge streak is a lot of pain and depression of having lost everything, and the very little regard she has for herself these days. she just Cares Too Much and doesn't know how to stop caring even though she'll tell you she doesn't care. also she's a pyromancer, aka a pyro in her very fucked up world. don't ask me about her symbiote i haven't gotten that far))

what is you doin?
[Hanna isn't exactly what you'd call Keeping Low. No, not with the way her tank top shows her distinctive hawk wings on the back of her arms, or the mottled bruises forming on her chest and chin. Pirates got on the wrong side of harassment tonight. Pirates got the right side of her now-scabbing fist.

Death comes in threes, so they say. And it's three pirates that start to loom about her. Along with another three. They seem to want to jump her. There's a bit of a tell in how stupidly they start to gang up in the middle of the neon-lit street, around the woman with blond messy hair and deadened green eyes.]

Why is it always the stupid ones that come after me?

[She throws a punch, straight into a pirate's jaw.

It's on now, it's on like Donkey Kong.]

congratulations you played yourself
[As was and apparently remains typical of Hanna, she's on some kind of escort duty. Of her team, she'd always been the one-woman wrecking crew, the tank that could set herself on fire. She'd always play decoy and do the worst of the damage. Hanna was under no suspicion that she was smart.]

Hey, you think you could hurry it up there?

[Because time's running out.

Nope, it ran out. The alarms start to go off in the sterling white and silver compound. Whatever happened, didn't happen right.]

Fuck me.

[Without warning, she blasts fire at the doors with her bare right hand. Her left hand holds a compound bow (which she has named Lucy), and strapped to her back are two fighting sticks (aptly named her Dead Lead Sticks) and a quiver full of arrows (Diamonds, as it were).]

Start running unless you want to get covered in holes!

blanket burrito
[By now Hanna's so tired she's given up on finding a destination to sleep. She's given up on the notion of a beer, and all she's got is one half-empty box of cigarettes that she's not really up to using at this moment.

There's a bandage wrapped around her right forearm, and a few wrapped around her fingers, but the bruises seem to be lessening now. She's tired. She wants to sleep. But the adrenaline in her body refuses to wear out. What she'd give to drink herself into a dreamless stupor.

With a heavy, resigned sigh, she drops onto something that might pass for a bed, might not. She stares up at the ceiling, trying to will herself to sleep, and failing. A hand goes up into the air front of her. A tiny flame lights up, dances across her tattooed knuckles. The link in her mind is a damn riot of rage, so it's no small wonder she can't calm down enough to sleep.

Eventually, she does fall asleep. And it's probably your bed. You can kick her ass out. You should probably kick her ass out.]

Quintet | Nature of Nature's Art

[quintet]

I. In the Shadow of the Valley of Death: the station
Quintet had learned a great many things since arriving at the Station. She had learned about the way scent does or does not interact with smooth metal surfaces, with tile, with plastic. She had learned about the stars, about flight, and machines, and about the idea of undeath. Quintet had even learned a thing or two about hair, which wasn't something she would have predicted, but then, why not? Why the hell not?

This place was a madhouse.

And the worst part of it was the food. There was so much of it, and it was all so hard to access. You might have to pay for food back home, but in the end it was just food. It was there, and then you ate it! Every food in this place was a tough nut to crack, encapsulated in a shell or a box or a thick layer of lacrima.

"Hey!" This directed at you, the poor fool who just walked into the food storage center. Quintet is sitting on the countertop, wrestling with a by-now somewhat mangled plastic packaging that surrounds a portion of fish jerky, "This thing is giving me a headache. Help me out, here."



I. Though I Linger In Darkness, I Have Seen The Light: space, there's such a lot of it
[If there's such a thing as a comforting void, this is it. Quintet's been here all day, lounging, or sitting, or curled up into a comfortable crouch. She doesn't know what it is about this, the view, the stars, the endless down-down-down of it all, but she can't help but love it. Sure, there's nothing but a force-field between the inside of the hangar and the outside of the hangar, but that's for someone else to worry about. It works, is the important thing.]

It's so big. I wonder why they don't sparkle. [She's not stupid enough to reach out a paw and touch the interface between inside and out, but the urge is there, tempting. She looks up, hearing someone's approach.] Oh. Hey, come check this out. It's amazing stuff.

[greentech]

"Huh?"

Pidge has a biscuit in her mouth and a few other things in her hands - just enough to make it a bit awkward for her to juggle her stuff and come over to see what's going on. There's a... creature she doesn't recognize. It looks like a cat, but it can't be a cat. Right? But it's talking to her. And asking for help. She sets her stuff down and leans against the counter, reaching out a hand for the packaging.

"No thumbs must be a pain, huh?"

Isha Devan | Original

[diamondhack]

((Isha is a career criminal turn INTERPOL agent. She's charming, pretty much a genius... and pretty much a manipulator and hard to read. Her link will look like nothing but mirrors and reflective surfaces, but the further you go in, the more you'll see of cracked concrete, crystalline walls, and jungle overgrowth. She seems put together and judgmental. Really, she's unpredictable and at core a survivalist with an occasional penchant for violence and a definite need to prove herself constantly. Her power is an extension of her natural state called Hall of Mirrors, which misdirects people trying to push through, as well as have the capacity to trap them once it's strong enough.))

STATION 72
[Well it's all lovely when you're walking into a sci-fi movie as part of an experience.

Except this is not an experience Isha Devan remembers signing up for. Some part of her suspects this might be something playing with her system, attachments gone wrong from her brain to her synapses to her arm. Worse yet, a drug of some kind, giving her some grand illusion of a world she likely would have dreamed up of as a child.

She has no idea where to go, or what to do. Habit, nervous tic, call it whatever you'd like, has her flexing the fingers of her left prosthetic hand. Given that she's wearing a sweatshirt, it's hard to see just how far that prosthetic goes. Her dark round sunglasses obscure her searching expression, thankfully.]

Well if I didn't know any better I would've imagined I drank too much.

[She says it to no one in particular, forgetting, briefly that her trusted companion Q-11 is not with her at this moment.]

PENTARA PRIME
[Places like these aren't all so common anymore. Not like this. Places like this in her home are all squared away and protected in perfection.

She might have snuck into places like those after hours, because she could.

It is beautiful, in its frenetic quiet. Isha reaches out to touch one of the flowers with her left hand... then pulls it back. One of the problems with her arm? It's still adjusting. It's not fully interfaced yet. The haptic feedback had never been automated, because she didn't want to be tracked via her arm.

Isha plays it off by flexing her fingers, forcing electricity to crackle between the tips as if she were making sure everything is in order.]

Something here must be off. No one can live like this without enterprise.

[She glances out, watching the pods come and go. Surely something is going on here to allow for such leisurely life.]

MASQUERADE
[The cut Isha has is, to put it simply, elegant. It's only because she went through the pains of looking a little too elegant, a little too regal. Somewhere caught between an alluring mystery and nigh untouchable.

Except she's usually like that. The only difference is the dress and the mask, and not leather leggings, sweatshirt, and sunglasses. The backless dress reveals the prosthetic reaching all the way up to her shoulder. Gold and diamonds are inlaid in swirling henna patterns from fingers up.]

( You know, masquerades, balls, and parties generally have more theatrics happening among their patrons. There's nothing happening here and it's making for a boring time. )

[But she slowly makes rounds anyway, sipping her drink, sussing out everyone. There's a target to find, somewhere in the mess.]

Nicolas Brown | Gangsta.

[handsigns]

IOTA-based skillset. Has a BERSERK BUTTON like in canon minus the drug use; however, the increased strength and agility only last a short duration, and the consequences of coming off the adrenaline high work in the same way. Typically, he'll pass out afterward, leaving him vulnerable.

STATION 72

[A lot of people may mistake him for dead, for a robot. The quiet of space doesn't bother him because he's very use to quiet. The jarring, unstable words he sometimes bothers to speak never end up in his head like most expect. Monstrously grating words are nowhere to be found.

He's use to silence.

When his dark eyes open, he doesn't startle awake.

The jumbled telepathy that causes everyone endless struggle is absent. He's as eerily quiet as the grave. There's no use for words in his brain when there can't be words in his mouth. But the feeling is there as he stands in the Nest.

A grip, taut as a string, and a passion bubbling below the surface. A volcano, not even puffing smoke yet. Hard, functioning muscles. The ability to split a wall from ceiling to floor. All behind a white sheet of calm, collected silence.

Anyone moving seems reasonable, he's hoping. His hands create symbols and motions in the next person's direction, but his mind doesn't speak a word.]

THE CLAW

[It descends, casting its three talons outward as it does, and at the bottom, they wrap around the head of a tongue-out puppydog with dead eyes. An offering for participation.

The prey seems secure, but at the top, the metal fingers wobble, and the soul-destroyed dog is released back into the stuffed wilderness. It plummets the two feet back into its cage, and The Claw, giving up, returns to its position in the corner.

Nicolas is a little miffed at the outcome of the claw crane when it seemed as if he had done so well to line things up. There's no monetary payment required, yet somehow, things are still inside.

That's fine.

With the joystick and single button, Nic tries again to raise the dog out of its hell.]

Rei Ayanami | Neon Genesis Evangelion

[oedipalcomplication]

I. Pentara Prime

[ Rei Ayanami stands in the midst of a wide boulevard and watches the empty street. The eerie silence is broken only by the soft sound of summer insects that chirp or grind away, their strange chorus filling the heavy, humid air in a way that reminds her of the cicadas from home. It is the still emptiness of the place though, that reminds her of Tokyo-3. It's as if everyone has evacuated to the shelters. She almost expects an Angel to appear in the sky, aiming for the geofront. But there is nothing, just the sound of insects.

She picks her way across the road to stand beneath the shade of trees and look into the display window of a boutique. Alien clothing posed on strangely shaped mannequins and jewelery that shimmers with an inner light. She isn't sure what she feels about these things. Emotions are difficult to understand and harder still to express and so she stares into the window. These sorts of things aren't meant for her, on some level. She is disposable, ultimately. Her worth is in her ability to pilot the Eva and to be useful--these sorts of things don't add to that, and so she doesn't need them.

Part of her wants them, though. Is that what it is to be an individual? To want?

Then the sound of a footfall disturbs her. It's different from the croaking insects and the faint hum of automated, empty pods that still travel from place to place. She turns towards the new arrival and stares flatly, waiting to see what they want of her. ]

II. Get up

[ Get up. She has to get up. There's a small voice screaming at the back of her mind, the one that demands self-preservation and fear and doubt and caution. Struggling in the spacesuit she's wearing, she manages to shover herself up her knees. It's bulky and heavy, similar and yet so different from the slender plug suit she's so used to wearing. Her breathing is heavy and she notes it with as much disinterest as she might note the color of the sky. There is panic in her chest but she does her best to ignore it, her face still the impassive mask that she presents to the world.

The derelict vessel is starting to shake, ancient engines rumbling as it begins to tear itself apart--a side effect of whatever the Nest had sent them here to achieve. She has to get up, part of her says. Get up and get to the ship. Another part of her says that she shouldn't bother. She is disposable. A piece in the machine and if leaving her accomplishes their mission, why shouldn't they do that. She gropes for a handhold on a bulkhead. ]

( Do not wait for me. )

[redheadcarrier]

[ This is stupid. She's stupid. She should be trying to get off of this stupid, exploding thing, not trying to go back. Especially not for Wonder Girl, of all people. The creepy, doll-like thing that she's had to contend with in the past. The one she's hated. The one she's tried to be friends with. But something calls her back. Call it altruism, call it guilt, call it a sense of responsibility. She clings to the wall for a moment as she tries to find her footing and then pushes on, teeth gritted as she stares into the gloom, illuminated by the lights on her suit. ]

( Don't pull this "Oh, I'm gonna die for you" crap on me, Wonder Girl- )

prompto argentum | final fantasy xv

[gunlock]

( OOC: prompto comes from the 10 years later timeline towards the end of ffxv; he's old and tired and upset from having his forever good bye to his best friend. he's level-headed and mature at this point, a spark more serious than before, but he still got a couple laughs left in him. )

I. GET UP

[the last thing prompto remembers were red giants spawning, crawling from the floor in the citadel's main court; himself, along with gladio and ignis, the last line of defense as noctis ascended the stairs to head to the throne room.]

[no time to think on his feelings, no time for more heartfelt goodbyes, no time for regrets.]

[they would do what they could to return dawn to their world covered in eternal darkness. but prompto always imagined it to be a gradual thing, sunshine streaming through the horizon, between the clouds, letting their weary eyes get used to it and their skins grow warm in it. the sudden, bright light in his eyes when he steps out of the nesting deck pod room leaves him nearly blind.]

[prompto squints, pressed heavily against a wall, blinking an uncomfortable amount as a hand pushes up over his eyes.]

This... isn't Insomnia...? Damn. Should've invested on sunglasses.

II. STATION 72

Uwaghh?!

[that is the resonating yell of a proper adult who is currently not able to properly resolve his problems. that problem being, his contacts are currently dry as hell and he needs them out of his eyes, right now!]

[surely this is a problem many face in space...]

[you, a good samaritan, couldn't possibly leave him to suffer (and die), right?]

Get them out! Get them out!

III. DON'T DIE

[prompto grits his teeth, hiding behind his cover. bullet shells ricochet throughout the passageway, the constant clicking of the guns not letting up one bit. how many were there? perhaps ten, fifteen soldiers. he's holding his own gun to his chest, trying to wait for a moment to raise himself and start shooting back.]

[how unfortunate that the exit is that way, and it'll only be a matter of time before more soldiers approach from where he just came from, too.]

Overkill, don't you think? Geez!

[what are the options; looking for another escape? he looks around, hoping for an alternative.]

Any ideas, buddy?

IV. WILDCARD

[whatever you want]

II, i can't believe

[somnifacient]

[The cry is familiar to him, he's heard it many times before. Usually when they're in the midst of some terrible battle against monsters or daemons, and when he rounds the corner directly into Prompto's open doorway, he expects to see something that'll riddle him with anxiety. Already he feels the cool tingling of magic brimming at his fingertips, ready to summon his Engine Blade, when-

He sees Prompto there, squinting at him in the most dramatic fashion possible. Alarm fights against amusement, and Noctis just settles on looking extremely confused instead.]

Prompto? [He steps into the room, and the other should be able to feel the thread of bewilderment between them.]

The hell's going on?

princess allura | voltron legendary defender

[saltean]

[OOC: Princess Allura one of the last of her kind and one of the lead players in the fight against the insidious Galra Empire. She helps mentor a team of humans and their sentient mecha-lions in a mission to protect those who cannot protect themselves. She is a young royal who can be stubborn, but overall has good intentions for herself and others. Please tell me if you want to avoid season 3 spoilers when tagging.]

STATION 72: WAKE UP

[There is a distinct gasp and brief struggle before the forced calm settles in her bones. She remembers waking up like this before, and it causes her extreme anxiety in the brief moment it takes for the Nest to react. Allura's eyes scan the room from inside the pod for something familiar -- and there is nothing.

So, in spite of the calm, she pushes until she is free. She is tethered by a cable that leads from her neck, and without a second thought she wrenches it free. The pain that follows is shocking, as are all the voices that quickly flood her mind.

Typically calm Allura, still stressed from the previous week's events, betrays her discomfort by covering her pointed ears in an attempt to drown out the sound.]

( Stop, please-- )

[She just--needs to think. Needs to process, needs to find a way down and needs to find out where she is. If she's alone again. And she can't with all of the sound.]


PENTARA PRIME

[Its difficult not to get sucked into the beauty of Pentara Prime. Allura finds herself resisting the urge to indulge in various relaxation activities set up around city center. She's lost count has to how many times she's been offered either a massage, some form of magic poultice, or a floation experience in zero gravity. All in all, she is still trying to get used to the idea that she was alone, away from the Castle and all its lions -- not to mention the absence of the paladins she had quickly grown so fond of.

Still, she has a task ahead of her. Blending in was easy for an altean, which she had to imagine was why she was chosen for this entire adventure. Thankfully, altering the color of her eyes, her dress, and erasing her markings was as easy as breathing. She'd just finished conversing with some of the lead trade merchants in the city, trying to locate the artifact the rest of the Nest was supposed to be chasing -- she'd gotten a lead, but it would require assistance.

So she reaches out clumsily, trying to appear more confident than she feels.]

( I've been warned against traveling there alone, but I have located the source of the meteorite. If I could convince one of you to follow me, I can take us there. )

[She pauses, but continues broadcasting, unsure of how to stop.]

( Perhaps after we locate some refreshment. )

WAKE UP

[shiro2hero]

[The sudden arrival of new voices, new sounds, in your head is nothing new by now. Just more white noise to sort through, figure out which ones you need to pay attention to, and which ones to tune out altogether. Not easy, but nothing new.]

[Except this time, there's something achingly familiar in the new voices. Something that makes him drop what he's doing and take notice. Listening again, just in case...]

[He can listen and run, right?]

[That's what ends up happening. A hopeful run from the hangar to the place the voices always come from at first. Already prepared for it to be all in his head. Imagined. Daydreamed. What does it say that he completely expects to be disappointed, up until he skids to a halt in the room and -- ]

[And that's her face.]

[That's her.]

Allura!

what's up lesser beings and background characters

[incinerates]

( bakugo katsuki is a teenager with an explosive temper and a heart full of heroism in spite of that; you'll get heavy vibes of indomitable will, the earth before you will feel like it's crumbling at all times, the sound of wicked laughter in the face of towering walls and shapeless, dark dangers. his symbiote power is literally "pocket" dimensions in his pockets and it's not his only power. there u go. )

THE STATION ( )

-- you want me to hold your damn hand, while I'm at it?

[ Nobody said anything about not having the right to poke around the place, but he doesn't have to be so nasty about the choice of companions. Or does he? Don't you all have something to complain about, in one way or another? Maybe he's just more vocal about what he can and has chosen, against what he can't and hasn't.

The hallway is a narrow, one-after-another sort of adventure. At certain points, he has to turn sideways to fit broadening shoulders through the opening, and wriggle through into the next room. It all reminds him of a funhouse, a deathly funhouse - if something goes bad down here, they can escape in single-file. A cursory glance back at his companion, and it's clear he doesn't trust them to function like a capable, sentient being at all. Good thing he's here, to pick up their slack. ]

I don't know what you're looking for, so if it's something in particular, you better let me know.

[ OR ELSE.He's found the rec room, the conservatory looking out onto what he'd discovered to be artificial space ( a vision, not a reality ), a spiraling staircase, an orb-like room without any sensible gravity and cushions scattered all throughout. A hall of hexagonal cabinets that had opened onto mirrors. Now, he wriggles his way through the opening ahead of his companion and scoff-groans. ]

You order this?

[ guess what it's a ball pit, and then a whole lot of other kid playland stuff beyond that ]

CHORIUS ( )

[ This place is the pits.

Literally, they call it the Pits, on account of it smells worse than a Xcordan's seventh underleg. You know the one - it's the one tucked in the middle of all the rest of those undulating little segments, the one that's the most difficult to clean after a kill. Gets the Xcordan their "Carrion Crusader" nickname and everything. There's none of them around right now, thankfully. Just a back alley gaming parlor, equipped with a couple of Chariot X200 gaming platform and a whole network of crime syndicates, just looking for trouble. The Chariot is several astral cycles out of date, but that hasn't stopped the junker kids before from getting on and having themselves a ride. Like the one who's in it right now.

Some native chick (?), eager to make nice with a couple foreigners. Eager to get paid.

At the left of the Chariot's seat, there's -- well, that kid. Blonde hair gone ashy-grey from all the fallout from the planet's dying center, a black corecloth filter strapped across his face, keeping the worst of the pollution from killing him. His arms are bound up in black cloth, layers and layers of it, and that's what puts him on edge the most. Down here in the Pits, there's all sorts of combustible gases and powdered fibers floating around, and the wrong sort of twitch turns the Pits into a crater. Another crater, to be honest. He hovers over the kid in the seat, hands clutching the back of it - impatient and tetchy. ]

She's been in there too long, [ he snaps, in reference to the kid he's managed to coerce into running recon in the bowels of the Harbor - the only remaining digital system. ]

Either she's playing us, or she fucked up.

[ He jerks his head towards the door. Fucking watch the door, or watch his back. There's plenty of dangerous-looking aliens in this place, and some of them are starting to take notice of the strange goings on over here. Which means there's the dilemma: defend the girl and maybe get the goods, or bust on outta' here before you get overrun. ]

WILDCARD(S)

[ An argument. A miscommunication. A rescue. A moment's peace. Peace, interrupted. A delivery to be made. A delivery to be intercepted. Overwhelmed. Underwhelmed. An invasion of privacy. Shared dreams. Images, prompts. LET'S DO THIS. ]

ball pits because i can't help myself

[justttkidding]

[ Eagerly, he's been testing the limitations of the station. As it turns out, it doesn't have very many, if any, at all. The lone thing it hates to do is make doors, but he isn't exactly a private person (maybe to others dismay).

So he's taken to getting it to spit out the most absurd things he possibly can. It's like a real time version of Sim City, except he can do it smaller scale. And with children's playground items.

What? He's having a good time, don't look at him like that. ]

And so I have. Does it offend? I can ask for different colour balls if you'd like. [ November turns to who has just addressed him, smiling benignly at Bakugo. ]