october 2019. welcome to the void.

[modblob]

Who: Everyone in Anchor.
What: Fourth Introductory Mingle
When: The Month of October 2019
Where: Around and outside the city.
Warnings: Please add any warnings in the subject lines.

Redshift: Welcome to the v͖͕̺̲̘̱̜͎o̴̦̣̠̦̘̹͞i̯̖d̛̪̬͈̱̦̝͍̕.

Click here to read what characters will experience when arriving in Anchor.

a. sini express delivery service.

There's something odd rolling through Anchor. Whether they wake with it next to their beds or find it sitting neatly in some corridor as if placed there just for them, characters will start finding items that are distinct and unique enough that they have to belong to someone. But where are they coming from? And whose are they?

The easiest way to find out is probably to walk around with the item held high yelling "Does this belong to you?" but that's not a good way to cover a lot of ground.

Don't worry, though! There's someone (something?) to help you. Chiming in periodically from communicators or intercoms across Anchor comes a voice that might sound a little familiar to anyone who made it as far as that spaceship wreckage in the wasteland. Softly laughing and humming, this some-one-thing will cheerfully coax characters in the right direction, giving tips and offering little clues to anyone who might be confused about whose item they have.

Characters struggling with identifying whose item they got might hear a helpful voice whispering out of their device as they move around the city - "Warmer, waaaaarmer...oh no! COLD!" They might hear a laughing voice coming out of a nearby speaker, giving tips or riddles about the person the item belongs to - "Her eyes are grey!" or "What kind of spider is sweet as pie?" Sometimes, it'll just be amused giggling at the efforts of those trying to find their object's owner. That bubbly voice is everywhere, encouraging residents to solve the riddle because "It'll be wooooorth it. Pinky swear!"

And no matter what, it can't be turned off or muted, and it doesn't respond to any direct attempts to communicate in return.

b. flu season.

No one probably takes special notice, at first. It's a sniffle here, a cough or chill there. 'Tis the season in some universe, after all, and even the advanced decontamination process isn't completely flawless. But what starts as a tickle in the throat gets a little worse over the span of a week, or in some cases a lot worse.

Whether laid up for a few days or longer, afflicted characters can expect to feel a few consistent symptoms. Dizziness, lightheadedness, chills and fever, coughing and sneezing (that kind of sneezing that comes in annoyingly long bursts and makes you feel like you've shot your brain out of your nose).

Oh, and hallucinations. Mild ones! Nothing to write home about! (If you even could, anyway.) Hallucinations are the last stage of this mild interuniversal flu, an annoyance more than anything...

And it leaves some people immune, and some people even more susceptible to what might follow.

c. harvestival festival.

Something good is happening in the agricultural sector. Weird, right?

But lo, the whole place has started to bloom seemingly overnight. Tiny fruits become noticeable, then large. Edible vegetation is flourishing, and you can tell which vegetation is edible thanks to the flocks, gangs, and small herds of creatures that have emerged from the still-wild depths of the sector. None of these creatures are aggressive except as a means to protect themselves when scared. Unused to strangers as they are, they'll probably let you get pretty close! Which means you could hunt them, I guess, or try to lasso and bring home some critters to the farm and fenced areas.

The food varies wildly. From electric pink berries the size of a pinkie to giant purple melons nestled in beds of vines. The tastes are as exotic and strange as the fruits themselves. A few people might even recognize some kinds of fruit from home. The root vegetables, squash, and edible vegetation is as colorful as the fruit, though a little more weirdly shaped. Why does that carrot-seeming thing look like a coiled spring? Who knows? You can't judge its life.

The culinarily inclined can take harvested goods to the kitchen areas and start experimenting, but beware! Even plants that look like they could be from Earth or other areas that the residents of Anchor know probably taste a little weirder or more intense than normal. Your best bet for a good recipe is to taste a little bit of everything before you get started. The spicy, the melony, the crunchy, salty, and sweet. There are no available records of what any of these things are, so you'll have to make it up as you go! The only consistent thing across all the agricultural sector's bounty is that NONE of it is poisonous. And none of it will get you high, Klaus and Kabal, so don't get your hopes up.

Navigation.

Comments

[braidmage]

[ Reynir, fortunately, is utterly immune to prickliness, and tenaciously friendly. So, when Onni merely puffs up his feathers again but does not say, in no uncertain terms, not to pet him, he moves closer. Pulls off his gloves. He reaches up slowly, sure that if Onni wants to hop away, he will be able to, without trouble or expending too much energy. When Onni does not move, Reynir sinks his fingers into those warm feathers, gently scratching the crown of his head. The layer of downy underfeathers are warm and Reynir is gentle with them, observing Onni's movements and being careful of areas that might be sensitive.

It's really no different, he tell himself, than his mother helping him to comb his hair, or Onni washing his face for him when he was feverish. Definitely, absolutely no different. ]

Yeah. And it's a nice voice.

[ So a little of that stubbornness is left in him, despite the illness and lack of overall vigor. He scratches at the feathers just around Onni's beak, a spot that seems to him like it might get itchy and be difficult to reach with just his talons. Owls are like cats, that way - they can groom most parts of their bodies with their beaks, but faces are a challenge. ]

You're honestly expecting me to believe you never fake it? Seriously. I don't buy that.

[ Reynir doesn't know why is makes him sad, exactly, hearing Onni talk like this. Maybe because he understands now that Onni has been acting as a parent for a decade, that he's just completely used to not asking for help or letting himself slow down even if he feels bad. ]

There is a point, though. Maybe not when I've got a bad fever like today, but sometimes I can keep working and doing things so you can rest. I can help. It's not pointless, when you need something, to tell me. If we support each other as a team, we'll be stronger. Right?

[scowlish]

[It's impossible not to feel a little defeated by his own inability to clearly say no - it betrays his desire to have Reynir pet him, something he's explicitly not wanted in the past. True, the situation is different, he knows Reynir better now, he's feeling pretty awful and it would be comforting, but Onni isn't one to accept comfort, he isn't one to ask for it. Most people leave him be when he doesn't say no, but also doesn't say yes.

Reynir doesn't. Instead he pulls off his gloves and reaches up to carefully dig his fingers into Onni's feathers, at the crown of his head, between the tufts at the top of his head, gently scratching and rubbing with the tips of his fingers and his blunt nails. It feels good, and Onni makes a slow, slow blink before his eyes sink closed and he fluffs up just a bit more. Reynir's fingers keep scritching over his head and then the feathers around his beak, a spot that was already itchy and in need of preening. In spite of himself, he makes a little owlish noise of contentment at the sensation.]

Of course I do, sometimes. Everyone does.

[His voice is a little hazy as he says it - Reynir's petting and scratching is making him feel sleepy.]

I probably fake it less than you think I do, though. Usually I am okay.

[When Reynir goes on to say that, maybe not today when he's sick, but that sometimes he can do things so Onni can rest, that he can help, that it isn't pointless because Reynir will be on a team with him, he opens one eye and looks at the redhead. Frankly, it's not something he's heard from anyone before, he's never had the option of a person who will help and do things so he can rest. Usually, he just goes until he can't and then sleeps too late the next day.]

I'll keep it in mind, I suppose.

[It comes out gruff, mostly because Onni is feeling a little strange about it.]

[braidmage]

Good. Keep it in mind plenty.

[ Then, because he can see how much Onni is relaxing, he keeps scritching away at him and speaks, steady and even, to make sure he gets his point across as clearly and thoroughly as he can. ]

You're not used to asking for help, and I'm not used to being asked. But I think we could both stand a little practice.

[ His fingers are warm and attentive, finding a few places where those downy feathers are mussed and smoothing them out. Seeing the big, angry-faced owl looking so blissed out and sleepy is, to say the least, a treat. ]

People have been underestimating me my whole life. Sheltering me and treating me like a baby, just because I'm not immune. I mean - my parents lied most of my life and told me it was still illegal for me to go anywhere. But I can take care of myself. I'm reliable. I've found a way out of plenty of tough situations - okay, a few tough situations. I can be helpful. I just... need people to actually believe that and give me a chance to be.

[ This isn't just about Onni and how he is used to handling things on his own and Reynir wants him aware of that. He has a stake in this, too. ]

[scowlish]

[It's a little difficult to protest or do anything but listen when Reynir keeps scritching at his head - near his ear tufts, around the edges of his beak, by the puffed-up feathers at his neck. It's soothing and it's making him sleepy, blinking slowly as he shifts just slightly on the branch to try to keep himself awake and follow the thread of what Reynir is saying.

It makes sense, when Reynir puts it that way. He's seen how Reynir is treated at his home, like a helpless child, sheltered and misled to keep him at home. It stings a little, still, to hear the Icelander talk about his home like this, about how he'd been sheltered and treated like a baby and held back. It makes him wonder if Tuuri had ever talked about him like this, like he was her jailer.

He tries to put that out of his mind, and understand what Reynir is saying, opening an eye and peering over at the redhead. After a moment, he huffs out a breath, his eyes sinking shut.]

Fine. I'll remember that and try to give you a chance. If I think I need help.

[Not likely, he thinks. But he will keep it in mind.]

[braidmage]

[ Reynir makes a tiny, delicate snorting noise, the sort that seems to imply: I'll believe it when I see it.

But he isn't going to press the issue further, because he can tell that this owl version of Onni is becoming more and more relaxed. Maybe it is harder for him to hide it, in this form. Reynir can feel him leaning into the touch, see those big eyes of his slowly closing in drowsy pleasure. There's something really rewarding, about that. It's nice to be able to make Onni feel good.

If Onni really is in this form to rest and keep himself from getting worse, the least Reynir can do is ensure he's as comfortable as possible while they are asleep. That's the reason he keeps on petting him. And, well. The feeling of those downy feathers, warm from being close to Onni's skin, is a really nice one. Reynir tilts his head so it is resting against the firm trunk of the tree and keeps moving his fingers through Onni's feathers, an aimless, gentle progress, moving in little looping patterns going nowhere in particular. He suspects Onni will be happiest not talking about this, so he doesn't say aloud how nice it is or how soft his feathers are. He just sighs contentedly, and keeps doing it. ]