redshiftlogs | november 2019. welcome to the void.

november 2019. welcome to the void.

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

What gave it away?

[It comes out more biting than she means it to, edged around with worry and lack of sleep and a strange, dull ache in her nose where Peter had tried to stop the sudden bleeding.

She opens one dark violet eye and watches Carlisle for a moment, then carefully moves and props herself up on one elbow.]

... Are you alright?

[He assumes that's permission enough, stepping inside.]

I know a number of people have been ill recently, and wondered if you were one of them. Not that- not that I would assume you to be sick at the drop of a hat, but I felt that, were I truly your friend here or elsewhere, it would be appropriate if I paid you a visit.

[As usual when his nerves are showing, he spits out more words than is necessary and avoids the question she presented to begin with. He doesn't yet ease himself into the chair by the bed, taking his time to examine the room, his glowing eyes -- brighter than usual -- everywhere but on her.]

[That's a lot of words there, Carlisle, and if the hovering at the door hadn't clued her in to his anxiety then the over-talking definitely would have.

She looks at him, quiet, and moves again to lie back down. Her hands clasp over her stomach, fingers lacing loosely together.]

You're not looking like you feel too well, either.

[Though he's turned slightly away from her, Poison may notice how he freezes at her assessment. How did she know? His ink stains are gone, he thinks, looking at his hands; he's still stiff, but not noticeably so, he hoped. Did someone tell her? Did she go to the agricultural level and see for herself?

He tries not to get worked up over a question that might have been innocuous, but his paranoia refuses to bend.]

I am well enough. Certainly in no need of being here, save for visitation.

[Did someone tell her..? No, but she feels like she knows him well enough to see the signs. The slight stiffness, the way his eyes are glowing brighter than they should - hasn't she seen those kinds of symptoms in him before?]

Did you come here just for me?

[Change the subject. Let him have that, for now.]

[The change in subject does draw his eyes back to her.]

Why wouldn't I?

[She lifts both eyebrows minutely.]

I suppose I just didn't expect it.

[And maybe she would have, before... but this Carlisle doesn't have their shared experiences, and less reason to care what happens to her.]

[Less reason to care, and yet, he still does -- there must be something about Poison that his other self saw, some value he found in her company, as he doubts he was so changed by Hadriel that he'd be a completely different person. He already appreciates her taciturn nature and honesty.

Of course, he can't help but wonder if she thinks the same, or if she prefers one Carlisle to the other. He can't imagine he is nearly the man he was when he was whole. He looked so happy in her sketches, healthier. All of that couldn't have merely come from his still being alive, could it?]

You did not expect visitors, or you did not expect me?

I didn't expect you.

[Poison isn't in the habit of sugar-coating her thoughts, and it's the truth. Her relationship with Carlisle is amicable, at the moment, but she hadn't expected him to make the effort to come and visit her while she was confined to the medical bay.

She's tried to leave already. The robots won't let her.]

Not that I'm not pleased to see you. I am.

[He rubs at the back of his neck at her straight-forwardness.]

I suppose I could have been kinder in our last conversation. I had wanted to talk to you again, but I have been... somewhat preoccupied.

Hmm... I wasn't offended. Not really.

[Maybe a little offended, but it hadn't been directed at Carlisle specifically. Only her tiredness at having to defend herself against people who think she's some kind of dictator.

She huffs out a little sigh, giving a small gesture to the chair beside the bed.]

Tell me what's been happening?

[She offers Carlisle that seat by the bed, and he eyes it for several seconds in silent reply, trying to decide whether or not he should sit. He finally does meander over, still working up the nerve to actually talk about what's happened recently -- to him, to others. A part of him wonders if he should be so open with Poison; the other part of him knows some better version of himself trusted her, and he hopes he can, too.

The advice he got from Genji was fair, but he wants to hear the thoughts of someone who knew him before, someone who knows who he used to be. There are some days he's not sure he's the same person. He cannot ask Pratt, not yet. He's too afraid to call him. Poison is his only option. He eases into the seat, his joints stiff; one of his arms seizes briefly, his fingers gripping the armrest. He straightens his coat, giving them time to relax.]

I have had some trouble with my energies lately.

[An understatement; he hopes she hasn't heard already.]

[She straightens up a bit when he walks over. It makes her feel a little woozy to move, but she covers it with a slightly furrowed brow and careful movements that make it look as if she's aching in places she isn't. It might have bruised her pride to know that she was his 'only option', but given the circumstances behind it all, such concerns are... understandable.]

Trouble?

[Poison had rarely seen Carlisle lose control, but in the times she has...]

What happened, Carlisle?

[Carlisle's eyes flick to Poison, the alarm in them immediate, obvious. He averts his gaze not a second later, guilt weighing on his brow.]

Happened? Nothing happened. Why would you think something happened? I just said I've had some trouble is all.

[But she's seen him spreading necrotic rot; she knows what occurs when he loses his grip over his abilities. Is there really any sense in hiding it from her, especially when he wants her honest opinion? He rubs at the back of his neck.]

I mean... something did happen. Not to me, though. I was involved, as I healed a man with a grievous injury, but it isn't that I was what happened. Or that I caused anything to happen. It's fine.

Edited 2019-12-15 00:13 (UTC)

[She watches him talk, and her eyebrows go up in a clear expression of muted disbelief. From the moment he walked in it looked like he had something he wanted to say, and she doesn't think that all of this beating around the bush was even close to it.]

Has that worked on anyone before? [Poison asks, clearly bemused.] Or am I the first person you've tried it on?

[If it wasn't clear enough that she doesn't believe a word of it, she shakes her head and curls her fingers loosely into the bedsheets.]

Needs practice.

[He wanted her honest opinion, but maybe not that honest. He groans to himself; he'd be reddening in embarrassment were he capable of it.]

I get the distinct feeling I have tried fervent denial on you before.

[She lets out a dry little laugh.]

You have, and I don't like it when people lie... but I don't think you're doing it from a bad place.

[Poison gives him a wry look.]

It helps that you're not very good at it.

I am far more practiced in avoiding the truth than outright falsehoods. In growing up, I had no reason to lie about who I was, as everyone already knew.

[That goes for him being a Longinmouth and a twice-cursed. For anyone passing through town, he just politely avoided both topics entirely, lest he be compared to the rest of his bloodline and all the wondrous deeds they'd accomplished that he never would.

He attempts to cater to his nervous habits by wringing his hands, but his fingers fail to flex; he laces them together instead, trying to find some way to occupy them.]

I harmed someone with my abilities, and it weighs heavily upon me.

Oh.

[Not a good thing to hear. She's already seen the damage he's able to cause simply by losing his temper, and it isn't a comfortable thing to know that he's harmed someone with it.

But he doesn't look happy about it. The Carlisle she knew would not have been happy about it either, so there is a small reassurance in that.]

You didn't mean to. [She surmises, glancing down at his hands.] Did you lose control?

[She surmises correctly, but he doesn't nod, his eyes affixed on his ruined hands.]

I pushed myself too far. I should have known I would. I did know I would, and I did it anyway.

[Poison watches him quietly, though she's sure her silence is almost physically painful for him. She lifts a hand, as if to reach out to him, then thinks better of it and lets her arm drop again.

A quiet sigh puffs out through her nose, and she shakes her head. What a mess.]

What were you trying to do?

[Yes, just what was he trying to do? Pretend he's still the man he once was? Prove to himself that he still has value?]

I was asked to heal a man who was badly wounded. I knew I could, but- but it caused my energies to fluctuate wildly. Dangerously.

I see...

[Just trying to help.

And of course he would, because that's just the kind of person he is and the kind of person she would expect him to be, no matter what he looked like or what had happened to him.]

Maybe you shouldn't have done that. [She sighs.] Go on. What happened next??

[His entire frame stiffens as she remarks on his poor decision, as though he's preparing to be chastised. He did plenty of that to himself before others did, and he's not eager to hear more about what an idiot and a failure he was.

Thankfully, Poison just sighs and prompts him to continue, so he does, the tension lingering in his shoulders.] I unknowingly pulled energy from the trees around us. I did not know until I looked around, only to find they were already dead, lines of rot leading to each one and tethering them to me.

[And that part brings him more visible discomfort. It could have been Kieran, or Ben, or his friend Pratt rather than the trees. Did he unconsciously avoid draining energy from them? Or was it just pure, blind luck that they remained relatively unharmed by the process?]

[The young woman has the feeling that he's already chastised himself enough and needs no further telling off from her. Besides, not doing that is surely the best way to keep him talking, when the last time they bickered caused him to clam up entirely and she's in no state to follow him should he decide to walk away.

She thinks about what he says. It doesn't sound like how his magic used to work, but...]

Should you be able to heal, as you are? [It's a puzzle, and enough of one to bring a bit of light back into her eyes as her mind turns it over.]

It sounds like you had to... compensate. For something you didn't have.

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