november 2019. welcome to the void.

[modblob]

Who: Everyone in Anchor.
What: Fifth Introductory Mingle
When: The Month of November 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. outbreak.

There's a plague in the city.

What was an annoyance before, a bug that seemed to be passing, has erupted into a full-scale biomedical hazard. Onset is slow. It’s a near mystery who is infected and who isn't, who is immune and who isn't. Doors lock themselves seemingly at random to prevent people passing through. Is that person with you one of the sick? How do you know? Would they tell you if they were?

The city will do its best to isolate the ill, once again locking them out of communal areas and trying to force them down toward the MedBay for quarantine. All bots will be temporarily shifted to plague protocols, rounding up and caring for the ill as best they can. (Lucky you, you get your cough syrup with a mixer courtesy of the barbot.) But they might not always get things right, and what healthy person wants to be locked away in a ward full of the violently ill? How do the bots even know which is which?

The ill will slowly find themselves dizzy, lightheaded, with chills and fever. They may cough hard enough to spit blood from irritated throats, or sneeze so long and hard they give themselves bloody noses. The symptoms can vary wildly depending on body chemistry, species, and dozens of other factors, making it difficult to pin down a specific set that indicates a person is infected. All bodily fluids are dangerously infectious. Maybe you want to keep your distance from your friends if you start to feel the onset, to keep them safe. But you also want to keep your freedom, not get trapped in a room full of people who seem to be dying. And anyone who was exposed to the first outbreak will find themselves either completely immune to this new one through early exposure...or far more susceptible, their immune systems doing almost nothing to protect them, with extreme symptom sets that hit them much harder than the average infected.

And through all of this, that voice that cheerfully chirped out helpful hints during the item exchange, that giggled and sang songs in the crashed spaceship in the wasteland can be heard again - but this time it's different. This time, there's very little cheer left, and though the commentary is still sing-song, it's much harsher, more monotone and without much energy. 'Go on, hurry up to the MedBay. No breaking quarantine!' it says, or to those moving through the city with friends, 'You must not like those people much, are you sure you want to get them sick?' In the depths of the worst of it, in the third week of the month, people may start hearing more of those 'helpful' suggestions - 'Maybe it would be better if we just left them out in the wastelands, you know? For the greater good and all...'

Mod Note: An NPC post will be going up next weekend on redshiftrp to supplement this prompt. Keep an eye out!

b. gone to shit.

With 90% of the city's bots repurposed to serve the ill (the matchmaking bot being the notable exception), things are starting to go downhill fast elsewhere. Didn’t realize how much work the bots were actually doing? You can't avoid knowing now.

Restaurants, slowly coming back online after the increased activity in the agricultural areas, are promptly shut down again with things starting to go bad in the fridges. The VR rooms have no attendants to help with glitches. The maintenance bots are prowling the halls looking for ill people to assist to the MedBay. The spa bots are all down in the lower levels helping keep people comfortable while they convalesce, leaving the spas to run themselves. Sometimes to overflowing. It's definitely going to be an adventure discovering what else the bots were doing to keep things running smoothly.

There's no bots manning the bar (make your own drinks while you can), but this also means there are no bots cleaning up the messes people leave behind in the bar either. The detritus of people living their lives starts to pile up - which means if you don’t want garbage filling up the most used common rooms, you're going to have to apply some good old elbow grease. Exactly what you wanted to do while everyone is violently ill, right?

c. dance of the moonlight jellies.

In spite of everything going on elsewhere in the colony, something magical is happening in the lakes and ponds of the park. Maybe your healthy or recovering character stumbles across it on their own. Maybe they see the glow from a higher levels and are drawn down to it. Maybe a persistent and super helpful voice, the same voice from the item exchange, the same voice that suggested throwing the sick out into the wasteland, suggests that you should go down and look at what's happening there.

However you ended up in the park, the place is filled with a silvery glow that emanates from the ponds, rivers, and lake. Fish have come up from the bottom, from where they were buried under the sand. They look almost like East Asian dragons, for those familiar with Earth. They're long, muscular, with two sets of fins trailing in the water like legs. Their heads are delicate, beautiful things that trail whiskers in the water along beside them.

And they're dancing.

In loops and whirls, over and under each other, diving deep and then rising up again to create patterns of light and shadow. Anyone who watches for more than a minute can start to feel relief moving through them, calm, the sense that things will be okay. Watching the dance is almost like meditation. Probably, for some, a much-needed break.

Navigation.

Comments

[scowlish]

[Onni keeps sorting laundry while Reynir shifts to start pulling clothing out of the basket and following the pattern Onni has set up. He works in mostly silence while Reynir talks, thanking him for helping, explaining why he was surprised at the idea of Onni doing household chores.

Raising a brow, he looks over at the younger man and is about to ask who he thought cleaned Onni's home in their own world, or who he thought took out the trash or did the laundry, when Reynir brings that up himself. Accuses him of spoiling Lalli and Tuuri by never making them help out with the laundry or other chores.

He doesn't reply right away, just rolls his eyes and snorts a bit, glancing off to the side. The mention of Tuuri hurts, as it always does, but what Onni isn't used to is the feeling of hurt that comes along with the mention of Lalli. Every now and again, despite the fact they'd mostly sorted it out between themselves after the fact, he remembers his cousin saying that he shouldn't have lied if he didn't want to lose him. The words had cut deep.

Thinking about that, he glances down at the laundry in his hands, and then sighs a little.]

You're right. Lalli was never any good at it, and he worked so hard I didn't want to force him into it. When he was a child, he was very small, and I didn't understand him well. The only way I could get him to do things if he didn't want to was by shouting at him. It still is. But back then, I couldn't bring myself to do it, because he was so small and I couldn't see how he was processing things. He was hurt and no one understood him and I didn't want to be another person shouting at him. So I did the chores myself and he never learned how.

[Carefully, Onni unrolls a pair of socks and straightens them before dropping them in the washing machine.]

Tuuri...she was just spoiled.

[braidmage]

[ What Onni says about Lalli surprises Reynir slightly, but upon reflection, it makes sense. Reynir had set some of it down to stubbornness towards strangers, and some of it to the language barrier, but he'd seen the difficulty Lalli had at following instructions and doing certain tasks. Reynir had seen how frustrated he could get, and how confused, and how angry. Tuuri and Mikkel had usually been good at defusing that, at figuring out how to work with him.

But Reynir imagines there were people in Keuruu who weren't Lalli's family and who didn't have Mikkel's intuitive sense of how to manage all kinds of people. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling a bit guilty for his own remembered moments of impatience with Lalli. Maybe he ought to have been more patient, more accommodating, the way Onni is. ]

I can't really blame you. It's - good that you didn't want to just be another person yelling at him.

[ When Onni agrees Tuuri was spoiled, Reynir smiles, tired and sad. ]

And I know how Tuuri could be. There was one time, Lalli was sleeping and Sigrun and Emil were out and Mikkel left to go exploring and said we should stay in the vehicle, and Tuuri really wanted to go with. I don't even remember how she talked me into it, but she did, and then she immediately told Mikkel it had been my idea all along and she just went with so I wouldn't be on my own.

[ There is amused fondness and melancholy in his voice as he says it; remembering Tuuri hurts, still, so much - so much more, he's sure, for Onni. But it's... nice, to be able to talk about her, with someone who had known her so well. She had been surprisingly good at twisting people around her finger like that. Devious, really. Smart and sweet and devious and hopeful.

Gods, Reynir misses her. ]

I bet any time you tried to get her to do the laundry, she twisted it around like that so you ended up doing it and convinced that had been your plan all along.

[scowlish]

I didn't want to, but I ended up having to, far too often. It just wasn't worth it for something like household chores.

[It isn't a lie. There are too many times to count that he'd had to yell at Lalli to get him to do things that were necessary to their survival, or had had to call up the memory of their grandmother, just to keep him in control. Not the most mature way to handle him, of course, but the only one he'd been capable of when Lalli was putting himself in danger, or other people in danger, or doing things that would alienate them from the people in Keuruu and cut off their sources of support just because they didn't understand Lalli. It was, at least, more productive than Tuuri's habit of just hitting him, but still not ideal. He carries some measure of guilt about the shouting and the rest of it, but has no real idea how to bring it up with his cousin to make amends.

Then Reynir starts talking about how Tuuri could be, and Onni focuses on doing the laundry because even now the memory of her hurts sometimes. When he's tired like he is now, sometimes the hurt catches him off guard, but this, in its way, is nice to hear. Stories about his sister and how her life had been after he'd seen her last.]

That does sound like her. She'd perfected that face she used to try to get me to do anything she wanted, her manipulative sweet and innocent face. I would always fall for it.

[He'd loved her so much. Still loves her so much. So much it aches in his chest, and he misses her so much it makes his throat close up. So he focuses on unballing Lalli's socks and dropping them one by one into the washing machine.]

That's true. She did that. Eventually I stopped asking.

[braidmage]

I'm sorry. That sounds really hard.

[ There's a difference between yelling at someone because you're so angry with them that it's a relief and a release, and yelling at someone because they won't listen and you have to because you're terrified for them or you know it's the right thing to do. Reynir has only done the latter a handful of times, and they stand out in his memory, awful and gut-churning.

Reynir is getting to know Onni better, and he sees the emotion in it, the way Onni's eyes stay fixed down on the clothes he's sorting. That sudden stiffness to his shoulders. Like someone in pain, hiding it. Reynir laughs softly when Onni describes that face of Tuuri's, which he can picture and remember so very clearly. She really was a master at it.

The silence feels heavy, now, and impulsively, Reynir breaks it.]

Does it hurt too much, talking about her? I never know if I'm doing the wrong thing, mentioning her to you. If- you want me to try not to, I can.

[ He just... misses her. And he isn't like Onni and Lalli, who had coped with the loss of their families and everything they knew by just burying it down and never talking about it. Talking is what Reynir does. He needs to talk about Tuuri. But he can do that with other people, if Onni wants. ]

[scowlish]

[After Reynir asks if it hurts too much to talk about Tuuri, Onni is quiet for some time, his eyes down as he sorts through the laundry, his mouth pursed. It does hurt, he can't deny it, but it takes some thought to work out whether it hurts too much to bear. He can feel the slight sting of tears in his eyes, thinking of all the times Tuuri had used that face on him, all the times she'd convinced him to let her out of chores so she could go out with her friends. All the times he'd given in, and how he'd done laundry and dishes and cleaned after a full day's work because he loved her too much to say no.]

I don't know.

[It's honest, and he swallows hard. It does feel good to hear about her life, about the time she'd spent with Reynir. He can imagine they got along well, they have similar personalities, and he can picture how they would have chatted about wanting adventure and seeing the world, about the places they came from. Another hard swallow, and he exhales shakily.]

I like to hear about her, even though it hurts.

[Carefully, he untangles the sleeves of one of Reynir's shirts, and drops it into the washing machine, exhales.]

You were friends, weren't you?

[braidmage]

[ Reynir can understand that. It isn't as simple as a yes or a no. How can a person weigh pain, anyway? How can they know when it is too much? Losing Tuuri had been too much pain for Reynir, so he can't imagine what it must have felt like for Onni.

He watches as Onni continues to handle the laundry, not sure if his friend is going to say anything more at all. Reynir wouldn't blame him, if that were the case. He is all ready to suggest a change of topic when Onni asks if he and Tuuri were friends.

Reynir is the one whose gaze drops, now. But he doesn't hesitate to answer, in a solemn, quiet, desolate sort of voice. ]

Yeah. We were.

[ Reynir picks up the detergent, pouring out a capful and handing it to Onni, just a few seconds before he would end up needing it. They're just in sync like that, these days. ]

We were the two non-immune ones, so we got stuck together a lot, when everyone else was out exploring or doing dangerous stuff. Plus, she spoke Icelandic. She could translate, between me and Lalli and the others. And - we got along. I liked her. I think she liked me, okay. I made her laugh, sometimes. She had a really great laugh.

[ There is more he could say. How they had talked, even after Tuuri was infected, through that partition Mikkel had set up. But Reynir's instincts are telling him not to veer too close to discussing Tuuri's tragic ending. Onni deserves to hear about all the good parts, before that. ]

It took her so long to believe me, that I was a mage. She just would not accept it, for like, ages. I think she thought it was some kinda joke? Anyway.

[scowlish]

[There are no words for what it felt like for Onni to lose Tuuri. Even now it feels like there's an empty gaping hole in the center of himself in place of where she used to be. There's no way that he can describe that, the emptiness and how it makes him feel now, to hear about her. It hurts, it aches, but at the same time hearing stories about the life she'd lived, about times when she'd been happy and made friends, seems to fill the hole inside him just a little.]

You're...the type of person who she liked to be friends with.

[He says it carefully, not wanting to hurt himself or Reynir, and he reaches out without looking to take the cap of detergent from Reynir and add it to the washing machine, pouring it out over the clothing inside. Closing the lid, he turns the knobs until he gets the type of wash he wants, and then moves to the next one, tugging the basket along with him so he can start on the next load.

And he listens, while Reynir explains that they'd been stuck together a lot in the relative safety of the tank while everyone else was out doing the dangerous things, that she could speak his language and translated for him with the others, that they got along. That he made her laugh. When he talks about how great her laugh was, Onni squeezes his eyes shut. He can practically hear it, a thousand memories of her laughter when he would playfully flick water at her during the heat of summer, or when she was walking along the street a few paces ahead of him with some of her friends, chattering about something or other, something he hadn't been paying attention to. He wishes that he had been, now.]

She wasn't a mage, even if grandma and Lalli and I were. She never really understood what it means to be a mage, or how dangerous it can be. I can see why she wouldn't at first, because your magic doesn't look or sound like ours.

[braidmage]

[ Reynir blinks, surprised to hear that. He had always assumed that his friendship with Tuuri, real as it became, was entirely a result of proximity, and convenience, and circumstance. They both spoke a common language. They were stuck together a lot of the time. They had to work together, eat together, see each other day in and day out for such a long time. Anyone would get closer, given those parameters.

And Reynir knows he'd annoyed her when he first showed up. Kind of hard to miss that. So it had been easy to assume that, in a place where she had other possibilities for friendship, Tuuri wouldn't choose to be friends with him. ]

What kind of person is that?

[ Reynir wonders if Tuuri ever felt left out, not being a mage when it was so vital to Lalli and Onni's identity... he hopes that she hadn't. He hopes she realized just how special she was, for the gifts she did have.

He relocates himself and works on helping Onni get that next load sorted out and into the machine. His movements are slow with weariness, but he needs a bit of a distraction right now. Something to keep doing with his hands. ]

Oh, yeah. I don't blame her. It came out of nowhere for me, too. And she didn't know me all that well then.

[scowlish]

[When Reynir asks what kind of person it is that Tuuri liked to be friends with, Onni shrugs at first, his head still down. For a few moments, he thinks about it, about the friends Tuuri had and the fact that he hadn't stopped to tell any of them what had happened to her when he came back to Finland. Somehow, seeing how her death affected someone else who she considered a friend is making him think about how unfair of him that was.

Another thing to correct once they get out of this place. His list of things like that is getting so long.]

People like her, who are kind and cheerful and talk a lot, and who like adventure. Or people from different places who can tell her about where they come from.

[He pauses for a moment, holding one of Reynir's sweaters between his hands for a moment, before dropping it into the machine.]

Sometimes I wonder how we came from the same parents. We are very different.

[And then, abruptly, it hits him that he's talking about her in the present tense, like she's here, maybe back in the apartment with Kitty reading a book, or chattering on the network; or like she's in their own world, there in Keuruu for him to come home to. The realization is like getting punched in the stomach, it takes his breath away, and he drops his hands to the edge of the washing machine, looking down into it while he regulates his breathing, fights back the sting of tears as the loss of her hits him again, just as fresh as the first time he'd realized she was gone.

It takes him a few minutes to get himself under control, and then he exhales shakily.]

That's true. I'm still confused by how someone could be a mage their whole life and not realize, myself.

[braidmage]

[ Exhausted as he is, Reynir can feel his stomach do a little somersault when Onni describes him that way. Kind, cheerful, talking a lot, liking adventure. The part about him being from another place is a given, but is that how Onni sees him? As that person? Not someone selfish, someone impulsive and foolish, someone who doesn't know enough and puts himself in danger and makes stupid mistakes all the time?

He wonders if anyone has ever seen him quite like that. He doesn't think Tuuri did. Not completely, anyway. He knows that he annoyed her, too. That her enjoyment of him wasn't always paired with the... well, the respect that Onni's always shown him.

But then he catches it, right at the same moment Onni does. That present tense. We are very different and not we were. He sees the sadness of it coming over Onni like a tidal wave, and there's only one thing to do. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't pretend he didn't see it. He just moves quietly closer and, without a word, drapes his arms around Onni from behind him, holding him tightly. It won't go much, to help with that grief. He knows. But it's all he can do, and it's better than any words he could offer. And it had seemed to help Onni some in the past. So ... Reynir just hugs him, tight, breathing with him, not asking any questions or interrupting his quiet desolation.

It's only after Onni starts speaking again that Reynir responds: ]

You grew up surrounded by mages. They're rarer, in Iceland. There were no trolls for me to hear. I never went far from my village. Nobody knew what signs to look for. If I hadn't left... I might have gone my whole life without knowing.

[ He is still holding Onni against his chest, tight, even though it's stopping him from the laundry momentarily because Reynir has trapped his arms by his sides. But that laundry can wait a few moments more. ]

Siblings are often very different. It would be weirder, if you had been completely the same.

[scowlish]

[Of course, Onni sees those things in Reynir - his impulsivity and naivete and tendency to throw himself into danger. But those aren't the things he thinks of first when he thinks of Reynir. The Icelander has been around to take care of him when he was struggling often enough and had spent enough time chattering at him cheerfully and brightly that those are the things Onni associates with him now, far more than he even had at the beginning.

But right now, he's too lost in his grief to think too much about his perception of Reynir. At first, he doesn't realize how nakedly his emotions are showing on his face, but then the Icelander is coming up behind him, wrapping long arms around his torso, pinning his arms to his sides, holding him tight and close against him, from behind. Onni closes his eyes, relieved that Reynir isn't saying anything, asking him to verbalize what's going on in his mind. Reynir seems to just understand what he's feeling and offers comfort without question, doesn't mention it or bring it up, and there's something comforting and simple about that, the way Reynir doesn't ask too much of him.

And when Reynir does talk, it's about mages and how he'd gone so long without realizing he was a mage. Nothing to do with the tiny meltdown Onni had been on the verge of having, nothing to do with his red-rimmed eyes and hunched shoulders and raw grief. He just continues the conversation where they'd left off, still holding him, breathing against the back of his neck. He can feel the hair at the nape of his neck stirring with it, and there's something animal and comforting about it. Onni takes a shaky breath, closes his eyes, and manages to carry on without crying, without losing his composure.]

It does make sense when you put it that way.

[For a moment, he's quiet, and then he speaks carefully.]

Do you regret it? Leaving home like that?

[It's a loaded question, possibly unfair to ask him because of the what they'd just been taking about, Tuuri and the loss of her, but that isn't exactly the reason Onni is asking it.]

[braidmage]

Yes and no.

[ Reynir knows that Onni must be thinking of the similarity. Reynir running away from home, Lalli and Tuuri leaving him behind in Keuruu. There are differences he could try to point out: that they had wanted Onni to come with them, that the place Reynir came from was so much smaller and had so many fewer opportunities.

But instead he just hums softly, not letting go of Onni yet, and answers: ]

Leaving was the right thing to do. How I did it was wrong. I shouldn't have snuck out and only left a note. I should have had the courage to face my parents and tell them what I wanted, and stand up to them trying to convince me to stay anyway. I should've planned better where I was going, where I would stay, a safer way to travel and meet new people. I... know I was a burden, at first. To the expedition. I caused a lot of trouble for them, and my parents, and I hurt them more than I meant to.

[ That covers the no part; the yes is... trickier to word. ]

But... Brúardalur was suffocating me. I didn't even understand how much until I left. It. Is a beautiful place, and I will always love it, but if I had stayed any longer, it would have become like a prison without bars that I couldn't escape. And I... would've become a worse version of myself, I think. Sad and resigned and suspicious of anything different to what I always knew. Close-minded and. Just- less.

[scowlish]

[While Reynir explains his feelings about leaving home, and how he'd done it, Onni is quiet and listens, and slowly his body relaxes a little bit in Reynir's arms as he doesn't have to put so much effort into keeping himself from crying. It's a little easier not to do that while Reynir is explaining all the things he wishes he'd done differently when he'd left.

But then Reynir goes on to explain how his home had been suffocating him, how he'd loved it but how it would have ruined him and made him the worst version of himself. At that, Onni's stomach twists, the tension starts bleeding into his body again. His eyes sink closed and his fists clench at his sides, and he shakes just slightly.

That is something he is sure Tuuri felt, before she left. Stifled. Trapped. Incapable of escaping a place and a person who was doing nothing but smothering her and holding her back. The fact that she's gone now is unbearable, but the thought of having been part of that prison for her is almost as bad. Taking a shaky breath, he tries to make his voice come out stable and even when he replies.]

She must have felt like that. Trapped and smothered, stuck in Keuruu. It would have been better if I hadn't kept trying to push her to stay. That mission...it was a mess, and I knew it. Poorly-planned and under-provisioned, undertaken for all the wrong reasons. It was a disaster. I knew that. Maybe if I hadn't smothered her so much and made her think this mission was her only escape, she would've seen it that way too, and chosen something better so she could come home to me.

[And saying that, he loses the ability to speak again. Not crying, but close to it, his throat tight and closed off, his breath coming in sharp little too-shallow pulls, leaving his head spinning.]

[braidmage]

[ Reynir feels that tension, hears the way Onni's breath shifts. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so honest. No point in regretting it now, though. Instead, he has to just do what he can, to keep his friend from falling apart. But at least, the small silver lining of this is that Onni is talking about it. He's saying what he's thinking, what he's feeling, rather than bottling it all up and pretending it isn't there. That's some progress.

Even if the thing he is thinking are so very grim and depressing. ]

... And maybe if you'd let her go sooner, on a mission that was well-planned and well-provisioned and seemed totally safe, something even worse would have happened to her.

[ They both knew what worse than death meant. She could have been infected, but in a way that didn't give her the option of killing herself and going on to the afterlife. Or she could have gotten stuck between life and death, like those agonized ghosts. There is worse, after all, than just dead. ]

And maybe if you'd forced her to stay in Keuruu, she and Lalli would've stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time and there could've been some accident and you could have lost both of them. We can't play the what if game, Onni. We might be mages, but we can't see all those possibilities. And I can't tell you how Tuuri felt, and you can't just assume it was exactly the same as how I felt.

[ Reynir squeezes tighter, exhausted to the bone but wishing so badly he knew the way to put all the broken pieces of his friend back into place, wishing he could hold them fast with a glue made up of nothing but sympathy and affection. ]

It's not your fault, remember? It's not your fault, and it's not my fault, and it's not Lalli's fault.

cw: mild suicidal ideation

[scowlish]

[Reynir counters his speculations with something else, that she might have gone on a better-planned, better-provisioned mission and still not come home, or that she might have been infected and not able to spare her soul. For a moment, Onni stands still with his hands tight on the edge of the washer, thinking about it, and wonders if maybe he was just meant to lose her no matter what. If maybe it was an inevitability, if maybe he was destined to suffer alone in this terrible world, too afraid to live and too afraid to die.

When Reynir goes on to continue talking about how he could have lost both of them, that feeling only intensifies for a moment, and he feels completely paralyzed for a moment. The whole life ahead of him seems like a yawning, endless thing that he will have to endure alone, and for a few seconds he doesn't want to.

But Reynir is still hugging him from behind, reminding him that it's not his fault, it's not Reynir's fault, it's not Lalli's fault. Lalli is still here. He still has Lalli to take care of, and so he's not alone. There is still family here, and Reynir, who isn't family but is certainly a friend.

Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes and then exhales it, gets himself under control, and lifts a hand to squeeze at one of Reynir's forearms.]

Alright. Let's get this laundry done, then. I think I need to nap for a bit.