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redshiftlogs2020-01-01 03:38 pm
modblob) wrote in redshiftlogs2020-01-01 03:38 pm
Entry tags:
- !mod post: intro mingle,
- asoiaf: arya stark,
- assassin's creed: ratonhnhakéton,
- dctv: mick rory,
- ffxv: noctis lucis caelum,
- hunger games: finnick odair,
- marble hornets: brian thomas,
- mcu: peter parker,
- original: athena parker,
- original: carlisle longinmouth,
- overwatch: hanzo shimada,
- red dead redemption: charles smith,
- red dead redemption: kieran duffy,
- samurai jack: scaramouche,
- ssss: onni hotakainen,
- star wars: kylo ren,
- tales of symphonia: zelos wilder,
- umbrella academy: ben hargreeves
january 2020. welcome to the void.
Who: Everyone in Anchor.
What: Seventh Introductory Mingle
When: The Month of January 2020
Where: Around and outside the city.
Warnings: Please add any warnings in the subject lines.
What: Seventh Introductory Mingle
When: The Month of January 2020
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. champagne supernova.
Normally, the changes in the sky are subtle, happening between glances or over the course of days.
That's not the case now, when the bright sky with its three suns is wiped away in an explosion of blue light, right at sunrise on the morning of January 1st. The light pulses across the sky in uneven blazes, sending out lattices of what might be lightning or something worse. There's no moon. No brightness. Just this lightning-storm brilliance in space, shedding little light on the world below.
And the suns don't come back on. As the day wears on, the supernova brightness in the sky starts to fade out and no new light appears. The sky is static and black, with no stars, no moons, no suns. The mild rolling blackouts that started with the opening of the relaxation room intensify with the sudden loss of solar power, as the backup systems try to compensate for the increased use of power.
For a moment, power goes out in Anchor entirely, leaving the place plunged into darkness.
The darkness doesn't last. Thanks to those generators everyone worked so hard to sort out, the backup systems struggle back to life, keeping the lights on and the bar, kitchen, and agricultural supports open, but there are some things that the limited power just can't cover.
That's not the case now, when the bright sky with its three suns is wiped away in an explosion of blue light, right at sunrise on the morning of January 1st. The light pulses across the sky in uneven blazes, sending out lattices of what might be lightning or something worse. There's no moon. No brightness. Just this lightning-storm brilliance in space, shedding little light on the world below.
And the suns don't come back on. As the day wears on, the supernova brightness in the sky starts to fade out and no new light appears. The sky is static and black, with no stars, no moons, no suns. The mild rolling blackouts that started with the opening of the relaxation room intensify with the sudden loss of solar power, as the backup systems try to compensate for the increased use of power.
For a moment, power goes out in Anchor entirely, leaving the place plunged into darkness.
The darkness doesn't last. Thanks to those generators everyone worked so hard to sort out, the backup systems struggle back to life, keeping the lights on and the bar, kitchen, and agricultural supports open, but there are some things that the limited power just can't cover.
b. tower of babelfish.
The first, and perhaps the most noticeable system to start failing, are the auto-translation programs. While not affecting every area in Anchor equally, communication between those who speak different languages is going to be a lot more difficult. The effects are spotty, coming and going, sometimes completely failing, leaving only people's naturally-spoken languages available. Sometimes it just struggles, making conversations sound a lot more like babelfish translations than recognizable speech. People themselves seem to be affected differently by the translation struggles, depending on who and where they are. There's no rhyme or reason to when and how it fails. But the problem persists through most of the month.
c. the hidden passage.
The second system failure is harder to spot.
At the end of what seemed to be a maintenance hallway, a set of doors have appeared from behind what used to be a shielded hologram of a dead end. The doors stick out from their surroundings: thick metal, barred heavily from the outside. A clear attempt to keep something locked away inside, not to keep people from entering.
For those adventurous enough, or foolish enough, to wrestle the locks open, a problem will reveal itself. A short flight of stairs, leading down into an area flooded by murky water. It's hard to see more than branching halls down below.
Those who choose to brave the water will find a hallway lined with bulkheads and sealed doorways, all guarding rooms that could be accessed with the right combination of smarts and brute force. It's the question of what would be ruined by the water if the doors are opened that might give people pause. What kind of secrets could be wiped out or destroyed if the doors are forced and the water passes through the bulkheads? Can the water be drained? How?
But there is one room open, or mostly open, where the bulkhead doors didn't quite manage to seal when the area flooded. It'll be a squeeze, for bigger characters, but the flooded room beyond contains artifacts preserved behind glass - strange medallions, strings of glowing beads, broken sceptres, arrows fletched with feathers from creatures no one has ever seen before.
Only one object isn't sealed away. It's a handful of small orbs, with shifting colors, held in place by a shield array that still seems to function, for the most part. They can be touched, can even be removed from the stand with the right know-how or a willingness to smash stuff.
But once an orb is touched, the colors start to spin more rapidly. The more it's handled, the brighter and faster the colors shift. Whether it takes hold immediately or not is up to you, but those who handled the orb will find the bright colors start to glow under the surface of their skin, in the shape of veins, glowing bright for a few minutes before fading. And those people bring a different kind of contagion back with them to the surface. Memory loss, communicated from one person to the next via contact. It can be partial or complete, or not happen to your character at all - they can be an unwitting "carrier" of the effects, passing it on without experiencing the losses themselves. The loss can last from hours to weeks, with carriers being "infected" for the duration of that time.
It also leaves behind magical traces, ones that don't fade after memories return. The cleverest might start to wonder if it wasn't a kind of inoculation, though against what, it remains to be seen.
At the end of what seemed to be a maintenance hallway, a set of doors have appeared from behind what used to be a shielded hologram of a dead end. The doors stick out from their surroundings: thick metal, barred heavily from the outside. A clear attempt to keep something locked away inside, not to keep people from entering.
For those adventurous enough, or foolish enough, to wrestle the locks open, a problem will reveal itself. A short flight of stairs, leading down into an area flooded by murky water. It's hard to see more than branching halls down below.
Those who choose to brave the water will find a hallway lined with bulkheads and sealed doorways, all guarding rooms that could be accessed with the right combination of smarts and brute force. It's the question of what would be ruined by the water if the doors are opened that might give people pause. What kind of secrets could be wiped out or destroyed if the doors are forced and the water passes through the bulkheads? Can the water be drained? How?
But there is one room open, or mostly open, where the bulkhead doors didn't quite manage to seal when the area flooded. It'll be a squeeze, for bigger characters, but the flooded room beyond contains artifacts preserved behind glass - strange medallions, strings of glowing beads, broken sceptres, arrows fletched with feathers from creatures no one has ever seen before.
Only one object isn't sealed away. It's a handful of small orbs, with shifting colors, held in place by a shield array that still seems to function, for the most part. They can be touched, can even be removed from the stand with the right know-how or a willingness to smash stuff.
But once an orb is touched, the colors start to spin more rapidly. The more it's handled, the brighter and faster the colors shift. Whether it takes hold immediately or not is up to you, but those who handled the orb will find the bright colors start to glow under the surface of their skin, in the shape of veins, glowing bright for a few minutes before fading. And those people bring a different kind of contagion back with them to the surface. Memory loss, communicated from one person to the next via contact. It can be partial or complete, or not happen to your character at all - they can be an unwitting "carrier" of the effects, passing it on without experiencing the losses themselves. The loss can last from hours to weeks, with carriers being "infected" for the duration of that time.
It also leaves behind magical traces, ones that don't fade after memories return. The cleverest might start to wonder if it wasn't a kind of inoculation, though against what, it remains to be seen.
no subject
There much better. Pushed up, she looks over to him again, a little more even to his height. A brief sniff of the liquid. Her hand moves to hover over the top. Catching a claw in the lid to flick it off like it weighed nothing at all. Another sniff, lowering her head to test the air around it.
Nothing rotten, nothing poisoned or wrong.
Her hand tilts, cupping it for him to pour into. Blinking at him once more, hair falling over her face, curving against the corner of her lips. "It would." She cares only to be pleased in this moment.
no subject
He's careful, hand steady, as a small spill of the sake dribbles into her palm. It wouldn't do to waste any of it, and it's so small a tasting she seems to want as her offering. Well. Who is he to question?
That done, he puts the stopper back in place, settling his weight back once more and waiting with dark eyes to see if she approves.
no subject
No, instead she dips her other hand's fingers into it. Then lifts it to her lips to her fingers, licking it off in a curious swipe. A little hiccup where the new, strange taste, burns on her tongue. Her nose wrinkling briefly as she adjusts to it, tossing her head with the brief sharpness.
When her fingers return, it's too underneath the back of her hand, to collect the stripe away that had escaped. Gently leaving it in a swipe against his lower lip. Pleasure, happiness, being so pleased, ought to be shared, always, else what was the point? She didn't remember it ever being any other way that to give and take. Her black claws so very careful, though the sharpness of them, hard and thick and made to render flesh from bone can not be mistaken, even when she is so slow in her touch.
Satisfied, she brings the rest to her lips, tilting her head back to drink the rest of the sake in the eager mouthfuls. Making a mess in turn, of course, hard to drink from her palm cleanly, to be fair, the excess running over her chin and down her throat.
no subject
But then she starts to drink in earnest and he lets out a relieved sigh, tucking the sake back onto his belt and sinking down to sit. The other animals don't appear to be stirring and he'll admit, he finds himself curious about this strange woman. Deer. Whatever she might be in truth.
no subject
She climbs out from her pile of warm bodies. The limbs all wrong, her arms that little bit longer, that flicker of stars that shimmer across her skin. A rough, soft, bark that isn't human by any measure as they question where she is going, and soothes them. To circle around their new company. Her tail dragging behind her on the ground.
If he thought he was getting out of this with his dignity intact, he is sorely mistaken.
Because as she leans in, sniffing him briefly, then she shoves her face and shoulder into his back, not hard, she is being gentle. Because she is dense, every bit of her heavy and strong. All she wants to do, presently, is topple him into the other Reindire. Hers, now. All hers.
One push, then another, insistent. Until however he manages to handle that with grace or otherwise, she barks that little bleat again. Reassurance, as she follows him down. Leaning to rub her nose against his jaw, his neck. Crawling over him. Pinning him down with her weight, but it isn't invasive, it's just the same way she settled in with the other animals. Curling up on his chest, her leg over his hips, her tail hooked over another of the Reindire, horns tilting away to not scratch anyone.
"There. Better. See? Nothing to be unsure of." This is the only kind of world that matters.
no subject
He wishes to. Very much. This level of physical contact is strange and unnerving and he goes entirely tense, gaze darting around for any sort of escape or exit he can make. Hopefully without rousing her ire, or that of the beasts beneath him.
He should have just kept going. Why. Why did he think stopping was a good idea...
no subject
"Your heart is so loud." she leans down and rubs her cheek there, like she could soothe it just the same.
no subject
And that's a deer tongue in his ear. Fantastic.
Shuddering, he tries to push the fuzzy muzzle away from the side of his face, though it's difficult with Angel nuzzling down on top of him so insistently. Again, it strikes him how very un-human she is. She's almost as wild as the beasts.
With about the same sense of proportion and personal space.
no subject
The kiss she presses on his chest to his heart, like she could tell it hush just like that.
His voice drawn her head up, where she wriggles against his body. Nestled between all the others, warm and soft.
"Don't you like it? I like being like this. Warm, surrounded." her chin rests on his chest as she runs her fingers over him, gentle, bracing. "You should touch me. I know you want to. Everyone wants to touch me. I'll let you, as long as you know you'll never keep me."
no subject
How does she even weigh this much? What is she?
"No. I would like to stand, if it is all the same." His shoulders tense. "I...do not want to be touched. And you have my apologies for our previous meeting. I did not realize that you were...this."
Not a deer, in other words.
no subject
"It's okay when I have four legs to touch me but not when I have two?"
Angel presses up, onto her hands and knees, pressing palms flat beside his hips as she settles back onto her haunches. "Fine. I don't care."
no subject
This is different, and he knows he's done something to invoke her ire, even as he moves to try and push himself a little further upright. "Your legs have nothing to do with it. You are...more than you seemed to be. There is a difference between petting an animal and a..."
Person? He still has no real clue what she is, does he.
no subject
Her arms are crossed, so small mercy her chest is sort of covered, her back facing him with her long proud mane flicked out. "I liked it, both times, and I can break your ribs like twigs in either form, so if I didn't want you to I could have stopped you, and I didn't stop you then or now so that doesn't make any sense."
no subject
"It is not customary to behave so...intimately with someone one does not know, where I come from. To stroke an animal does not bear the same weight."
no subject
She looks over her shoulder back at him with both her eyebrows raised, as she absolutely does not sulk.
"Besides, that's silly. I like being touched, don't you? Why are there are rules like that?"
no subject
Whether or not someone likes being touched is irrelevant. There's a distance one maintains, out of respect. A concept she seems to have no need or care for. Perhaps, as powerful as she is, she simply obeys her own rules of conduct.
Imagine what that must be like.
no subject
Absolutely still sulking, it's practically petulant.
"I bet you'd like it too if you weren't so worried about being proper."
no subject
"I do not transform as you do. I can only conduct myself as humans do. And where I am from, it is not done this way. It is a matter of honor...a matter of respect."
Which might be the reason he looks so unhappy, at the moment. Personal space? What personal space.
no subject
no subject
"Honor is all that matters. Without it, we lose our way, our purpose. It is our bond and our strength, what sets man above beast. Even a killer may know honor."
You could let yourself go, descend into chaos and act on whims and baser instincts. But to do so is to sacrifice something you could never recover entirely. You could only spend the rest of your life attempting to.
no subject
"And honour says cuddling makes you a beast."
no subject
And it appears this is going to be a very long conversation.
"That is not..."
He cuts himself off, brow pinching. "If one were married, or similarly intimate, then it would be permitted. It is not something one would do with a stranger, or even a casual acquaintance."
no subject
"Only marriage or intimacy." she takes his summary, rolls it around her tongue as she goes back to laying on him - two steps forward, one step back, sorry Hanzo - "that is so lonely. Your poor heart would beat and no one would hear it." she turns her head a little, and that one step is at least he is spares a kiss this time. "It's alright, I will be here to hear you, even if I have to stay far away."