50 years later meme

[sizeofyourbaggage]

Fast forward into the future of Station 72 where your character has been a part of the Hive for however many years. Are they still themselves? Have they integrated fully with the symbiote? Are they the only ones left of their brood? Have they formed other connections in their brood's absence? Do they remember anything of their life before the station? How do they relate to the other Hosts still around, or to new ones who have come in since others have fallen? What else can you come up with?


HOW TO PLAY
STEP ONE: POST WITH YOUR CHARACTER

STEP TWO: Either set up the scene or give some info of what your character is like X years down the line.

STEP THREE: TAG OTHER PEOPLE'S CHARACTERS

STEP FOUR ?????

STEP FIVE: PROFIT

Comments

likely to be nsfw sooner rather than later

[erbier]

[ It has been a long time since either of them were girls. They both joined this body with little understanding of themselves, of agency, turned deceptive in order to obtain anything in resemblance to power, but the one mind never deceived was always the other. They've grown while together, they've grown while apart, but always bound by their beginnings. Their holy writs and shackled wings. Those myths are a whispered history, no longer tragic maidens, but instead capable monarchy.

But Ilde remembers: the pale skin of her first love, the smell of a perfume that dried up many years ago.

It's that scent that accompanies her into the siren's chambers, heralds her presence even though her aura is silent as a shadow when she moves through the Station. ]

( Who am I. )

[ A secret query to unlock a certain behavior from this oracle, to bring the pretty thing to focus in on her, on them. ]

puts us both in the garbage can

[circumspector]

( Ilde Vilmaine. )

[ The many voices echo back, her fingers sweep more broaching than sight ever could be. More satisfying to the part that was still one, not many. Along the line of her jaw, up her chin in symmetrical movements of mapping on her face. Thumbs settles in a pair on the middle of her mouth. ]

( From a burning world. )

[ Like a title on an artwork of too many shared moments, what she has seen through Ilde's mind and held in her body. That flicker of images that are butterflies open and closing wings span apart. Quick-slow-broad. Shut again. Of torture and destruction and ruining and worship she has felt like aftershocks from places that made them but would no longer be them. ]

(Gardner. Flower keeper. Scent of - )

[ Her lips part, her limbs shudder, her wings beat once more and in slow drop she inhales like that scent, of years and years ago, of a hallway, a room, of her skin tingling all the way down and her skin doing a different kind of burning. Down, down, down, like she alone could affect buoyancy as her bare feet settle flat to the ground, toes then heel. Rocking back. ]

( - Oh. ) [ she shivers, mouth parted on a drunken feeling of that, and wash after wash of singular memories rinse her of others from her. To this. She shudders, heated and heavy, lips red and dark on her too pale skin that never, never could be coaxed to colour by the sun like those tended flowers, but rather by Ilde alone. ] ( Hello, Ilde. )

[erbier]

[ She steps forward to catch this winged thing as it descends, an arm loose and supportive at the small of Angel's back. The other hand touches her cheek, so porcelain pale. ]

( I've come for you. )

[ Not for the oracle, not for the many, but for this woman, this single body. The one she is ribboned to, the one she cares for, gifts of fresh food and pretty oils to run through hair, over skin. To keep the machine in order while the mind drifted, off to many things, many places. ]

( You are hungry. )

[ It's not a question, and Ilde fills her mind with visions of luscious fruits and chocolates, to begin the process of stimulating this body and its needs. A practiced choreography, so easy and familiar and filled with pleasure. Her thumb strokes Angel's cheek gently. ]

[circumspector]

[ She sags like a sinking leaf, dead matter, into her arms. Sure the Ilde can hold her, keep her safe. She has ever put this body into her keeping. ]

( I am... )

[ Her mouth parts, her eyes blind, yes, but that does not mean she doesn't see when she's kept by the large sweep of the hive, and Ilde, most of all, knows what she likes to see, like to take into herself. Fills her mind up and she makes a soft needful noise, feel the tremor in her body. Shivering, for the things her mind are filled with. ]

(... I am hungry.)

[ Terribly so, she realises, moans again for that emptiness. This body, she loathes it, she loves it. It always a trap, a bonded separate between the two parts of herself, that might be too much if Ilde was not there for her. Her fingers lift, shifting in blind knowing touch over her face and her jaw, her neck. Fumbling through the want of Ilde to do something about this hunger. Unable to discern it from any other kind just like she has been for years - empty. ]