![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
❪ test drive #9 ❫
|
YOUR STORY BEGINS  The Storm came. You remember darkness, but you don't remember much after that. You don't know how long you slept, but the dreams were short. You remember the expanse of stars and galaxies in your direct view. Every world and solar system ever known to man was present in your dreams in careful, pristine detail. You also witnessed the Storm, which has devoured a fair portion of these galaxies. Your Earth and similar planets were assimilated by the Storm. Somehow, you knew it would be the last you'd see of your world. That was when she told you what happened. You knew that you'd be living somewhere new. The details weren't clear, but you knew it was a part of a deal with the entity known as Darma - once, you might have been able to speak to her, but now you are only met with silence. When you awake, you will find yourself in Thesa Station. Your body is still cold, you're hungry, and the halls seem frighteningly bare somehow. Exploring the halls brings you to the transporter room, which will give you easy access to and from Nadril... Getting there is a quick process that leaves you feeling vaguely nauseous and out of your own body, and you can’t travel to the rest of the planet just yet, but the space station and the icy colony are yours to explore. A FORCED AWAKENING (THESA STATION)  ... But that is, of course, assuming that your awakening was a smooth one. In the best case scenario, nausea might be the worst you'd feel. For many others, the newly awakened won't be a pleasant one. In the past, the refugees will only wake when they are mentally and physically prepared for it. After all, they are in a whole new galaxy, and dimensions and time were trampled with to make the Intervention possible. Those who witnessed the storm before it devoured their own world would know as well that the Intervention hadn't been a graceful one, and it's exemplified by the way you wake. Alarms on the station will be blaring when you finally come to, siren calls and flashing light invade your already disoriented senses. You'll find yourself face-planted on the cool metallic floor among many others with you. Some, just as confused and unstable as you; others, still sleeping — they're alive, but no matter how much you try to wake them, they will not gain consciousness. Or maybe some will. It seems the best way to approach those in stasis is to put them back into their chambers in hopes that the glitch hadn't disrupted their recovery. Thesa Station has changed though, seemingly overnight. The space that surrounds the station is now in near-total darkness. Where there were once stars across billions of lightyears, it appears as though they're fading — some would flash right before your eyes. This is especially true for those with access to the Observation Room. Alarms will continue to ring as you find your way there. Once inside, you will see visible glitches in the hologram of the multiverses as a ghostly, dark fabric begins to blanket over the shining dots that represents the many stars across many galaxies. As it gathers the stars, it moves even faster. Somehow, you may feel that it's getting closer now. The impending doom of the Storm is now upon the little corner of the universes where Darma found her planet. It's only a matter of time now before the Storm finally, finally, finds El Nysa. THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT
Nadril will remain accessible once you've established footing — it may seem like a welcome change to the steel, alarms, and artificial gravity. Once you've teleported down, your devices will pick up the message from the one and only Nurray, the leader of Nadril.
True to her words, the city square where you've teleported will have been furnished with a new piece of technology. Those who are familiar with Thesa's ins and outs would recognize it as a version of the Virtual Reality machines that can be found up there, but it is made for far more people. This foreboding machine has a shining gate that allows users to simply step through it and disappear into space. However, what you're really doing, is stepping right into the past.  I. Burning Dawn — You can hear the piercing screams even before your surroundings finish rendering. Once they do, searing heat, choking smoke, and flickering flames greet you — you find yourself in the midst of a burning village, at the center of the town square. The streets are swarming with people, both peasants who seem to live here fleeing for their lives and the heavily armored troops who have fanned out throughout the village, armed with torches and spears. Those who are running speak of safety in the forest — a place of refuge, somewhere they can be protected even from these outsiders with their blades and their fire. But reaching the forest means getting past the invaders who are stationed throughout the village and at all the exits. Fight your way out, sneak your way out, or find some other solution — but to escape this simulation you must find a way out. Should you find yourself killed by the invaders, you will respawn back in the village square again, right where you started. There does not seem to be any other way to end the VR session. II. The Escape — It is bitterly cold. You find yourself as part of a caravan — and though no one explicitly says so, you know instinctively that you are traveling north. Snow crunches underneath your feet and soaks through the material of whatever it is you are wearing. There are cliff walls and caverns visible further up ahead, and the path you need to take is a long, winding road that leads to the top of those cliffs. On the horizon are dark clouds, and murmuring around you makes it clear that you all expect a storm. You have perhaps half an hour before it is expected to hit. What you do with that time is up to you, but should you fail to prepare properly and succumb to exposure, the next thing you know you find yourself within the caravan once more, a chill in your soul as you stare out at the approaching storm. Thirty minutes... III. Crime — "Catch!" Someone calls that word out to you, and a moment later, a small wrapped package is dropped into your arms. There is a flurry of movement from somewhere behind you, and suddenly, men garbed in Olympian insignias — older than the versions worn in Olympia these days, but still recognizable — appear, brandishing swords at you. "Stop! Thief!" If the guards catch you, the scenery around you will distort, and you will find yourself back at the start of the simulation, with a package thrown into your arms. But if you flee, if you evade the guards for long enough through the twists and turns of the Olympian markets of hundreds of years ago, and manage to lose them... When you come out of the VR session, you find yourself gripping a small trinket of some kind — an antique bracelet, or perhaps a goblet, or some other bauble of Olympian make. It is very old, and it is yours to keep. IV. ...And Punishment — The rattling of chains fills your ears as the walls of some kind of cell form themselves around you. There are shackles around your wrists, connected to chains which are bolted to the stones hemming you in. There are others chained here with you, and as you begin to process what you're seeing, someone enters the cell. It's a large, imposing man with scale-like skin, and he takes one of the others in your cell and hauls them away. Minutes later, from outside, you hear screaming — and then utter silence. The man will return in thirty-minute intervals, dragging the inhabitants of the cell away for execution until he gets to you. If you do nothing, you will meet your end in a variety of ways — beheaded by an axe, perhaps, or drawn and quartered, or boiled alive. Should that happen, you will awake in the cell again, until you find a way to free yourself and escape. V. Castaways — The tang of sea salt fills the air as the image of the ocean builds itself around you. You find yourself on the deck of a ship, sailing away from the isles of El Nysa, toward the thick, thick fog that has kept everyone fenced in for so long. "It's never been done before, crew," shouts a man with a thick beard, wearing the clothes of a captain. "But today, we'll be the first! Full speed ahead!" The ship sails directly into the fog, and it seeps in around you, obscures your vision and becomes so thick that it's almost hard to breathe. But you can hear the waves breaking on the ship's hull, and everything is fine. Until it's not. Until the sound of the waves breaking is the sound of waves crashing, until the wind whips around you and howls but does not clear away the fog. There's a sickening crunch as the mast cracks and twists and falls, shattering the deck and sending you and everyone around you into the icy cold depths of the sea. The isles are back the way you came, but can you make it? Try — because should you sink to the depths of the sea, you'll only find yourself on the ship's deck again once you open your eyes. INVISIBLE WIRES
While there are no apparent seasons in the everwinter of Nadril, the diverse flora is not all year round. Now, with the coming of the most distant moon of the year, there grows a beautiful red vine. It snakes upwards from the ice, bright red against the glowing scenery. Growing along houses, coiled up tree trunks, and spidering over the ground, the plant is resilient and quickly adapts to any terrain.
It's quite the sight to behold, but get close and the veinlike roots fade, becoming entirely invisible. Like this, the vine ensnares its prey. A small tendril wraps around your finger, your neck, or burrows into your chest to entwine your heart. Each plant chooses two hosts in this way, binding them together with a sharp ache that becomes more severe the greater the distance between them grows. You may be alone when afflicted, left to suffer the night wandering to find your other half to soothe the pain. The vine withers after about 24 hours, leaving behind no trace, however, resisting its pull has been known to draw blood from the most stubborn obstinate victims. FINAL OOC NOTES
As always, feel free to wildcard prompts within Thesa Station and Nadril!
These threads may be carried over as game canon if players choose. Players are encouraged to submit TDM threads as application samples, but they are not required. Please direct any OOC questions to the questions thread below. Players may submit an AC-length thread HERE from this TDM for two (2) Natha REP. The due date for submission is January 20th, 11:59 PM EST. Due to the plot-relevancy of this TDM, current players are able to play these prompts in-game in their own logs. However, only threads involving a perspective player may be used for Natha REP. For this application cycle, there will be a cap of 60 and no reserves. Applications will be open on January 2nd at 12:01 AM EST and close on January 4th, 11:59 PM EST. Thank you! |
no subject
Her expression turns as he goes on about his tombstone, "supposed to be dead"— it's a pinch of her brows and a hand coming to rest against his arm, gentle. )
Hey. You're still here, too. And still alive. I know this isn't an easy change for anyone, and we just had to put people you know back into cryostasis.
( —so take a moment, it seems to imply. It's fine to be annoyed and angry and confused. Makes sense, even. If he wants to have that, she isn't going to bar him from it. He'd successfully dulled the shine of her curiosity, however. Her reply loses that energy she'd began her questions with, distracted as she shifts and seems to consider it. "Bone juice." What a name. )
Mm, I think I understand. So you weren't born on Earth...? You've spent your whole life in space? I suppose there was artificial gravity... ( Her gaze turns towards the door out of the cryo chambers, where a small window's visible in the distance. There's a planet beneath them they eventually need to get to. ) Well, they've been sounding the alarms for some time. I think all able bodies were to be evacuated. There's a teleporter to take us down to the planet below.
I don't know what the gravity will be like.
( This is essentially a silent offer to keep an eye out for him. Take it or leave it. )
no subject
[ they went out all the time. he'd seen some fucked up shit in the inner quadrants. helped cover some up, even. at the mention again of evacuation, miller backs the hell up from her like some kind of skittering rodent. ]
I'll take my chances on the station. No chance in Hell I'm goin' down there.
no subject
She doesn't understand the insistence. That they shouldn't be here. They'd be dead otherwise, wouldn't they? This was far better. There's the eventual promise that they'll be up and walking about again, one day. That's certainly better than the alternative to her.
That hovering hand finally falls when she's mentioning the evac and he's backing away from her so suddenly, and her expression goes from confusion to apologetic. Maybe just a tad hurt, not that he'd know her well enough to speak to how it went against her nature to do whatever it is he thinks she's going to. )
Detective, I've just woken up here the same as you. And it is certainly not my job to force anyone along for anything. I just wanted to let you know what was going on, and that I would be around if you needed it. Now that I'm aware it may be an issue.
That's all. We don't know what's expected of us up here, or if they need to vent the station— or why the alarms are even going off. Something about the stars disappearing.
no subject
I can't go down to the planet, the gravity will grind me to dust.
[ he lifts both eyebrows so she understands. it's not personal though of course he doesn't trust her. not yet, anyway. he already feels like he could, which is more than he could say for most of these nobodies. ]
The stars... disappearing.
[ the stars are better off without us. maybe they listened. miller turns and starts to walk away, not even trying to dismiss her, but he needs to go see that disappearing star shit for himself (sorry.) ]
no subject
He does know how to paint quite a picture, though. )
You can't know that, yet. We don't know what it will be like on the surface. I can always make sure you get back on the teleporter if it's too ill an effect. You just let me— ...know.
( Aaaand he's off. There's a half-hearted "it was nice to meet you" aimed at his back, but she still has work to do. He'll know where to find her if he changes his mind. )
no subject
Remember me? You're a doctor, right? I think we should talk.
[ away from everyone in this room, being the overt implication. ]
no subject
Once he's in her peripheral and waving for her attention, however, she comes to with a little nod and a soft "mm?" before she's registering what he says. )
Detective Joe Miller— I don't forget people easily. And I am a doctor, yes. A trauma and restorative surgeon.
( To cover the gist. He suggests a talk and she glances around at the few stragglers still looking for their loved ones, then down at the giant man mercifully still in cryo. Her hand passes over the next chamber— what seems to be a robot, though Angela knows the man inside the armor— as she turns to face him properly. )
Yes, all right. Lead the way.
no subject
I'm afraid this station has been compromised.
[ miller keeps his voice low, trying to determine how to even explain the protomolecule to someone wo's never seen it before. ]
This shit infected the station I died on. Problem is, I dunno how to test for it.
[ not that she will, but he's obviously desperate to figure it out, convinced the protomolecule must have something to do with disappearing stars and sick people. ]
no subject
She follows him after only a moment's hesitation, into the empty hall and staying near his elbow as her eyes stay out the windows along one side.
Angela's never been in space before, you see. The stars are beautiful, while they're still here.
At least until he opens his big dumb mouth. The alarm is clear in her eyes when she turns back to him, refraining at least from stopping mid-step. )
Infected? I've not seen anyone sick— what do you know of the problem? Side effects, appearance, incubation period, fatality rate?
( She's no pathologist, no, but she knows how to diagnose and categorize some basics. Especially when chemical warfare is still plenty prevalent in 2076. )
no subject
It turned the rock I was on into a goddamn spaceship, those bastards only hit the tip of the iceberg as far as what it can do... But fatality is 100% once it gets its hooks in you. 100,000 Belters.
[ and if he's alive he could be a carrier. it could be why the stars are dying, why the alarm's blaring- he doesn't know. but it's the only explanation that makes sense. he puts a hand over his mouth even while reaching into his pocket for julie's necklace. it's still there, against all odds. ]
Them and Juliette Andromeda Mao.
no subject
( But he's speaking of an infection and then some sort of engineering marvel— her eyes leave his, brows furrowed in thought, until she hears the rustling of some dense beaded necklace. It brings her attention back to him and his hand over his mouth. )
Well, show me what you've found. Let's see if we can't figure it out. Should we go back for suits and protective gear? Face masks?
no subject
[ his mouth quirks into a brief, mirthless curve before banishing itself as he relegates the necklace back to his pocket. ]
No point now. Look for anything... blue and glowy.
no subject
( It's almost impossibly quiet, murmured to herself as she's thinking, curled finger against her lips— that's why he thought he should be dead. Why no one should have been with him.
But if he said that it had been an entire station infected and he was on it...
...He's the carrier? Or thinks he's a carrier. She stops dead, where he'll continue on a step or two before noticing, and then she's circling around his back to look over his other side.
No glowy blue, at least. And if he was contagious, well. She'd already spent too long around him. He'd handled others— they were in cryo, so that should halt any bacteria or other infection. But.
He'd doomed her with himself and he hadn't even known it. And how many others had she been around after?
She could (and should) be upset. Furious, even. It's a doctor's worst nightmare.
She isn't. )
Tell me everything, please. Even the smallest details.
no subject
I had my vac suit on. But this shit doesn't come with any guarantees.
[ where does one even start with the protomolecule, honestly? he's not even thinking he's the carrier anymore but that the station was infected before he was even pulled here. it's out in the stars after all. it would help if he had any fucking clue where they were. ]
Alien organism, unknown origin. Intelligent hivemind. Will absorb and repurpose any power source available. Like stars. Or people.
no subject
And you said it glows blue— are there any traces here aboard the ship? Is that what you'd found? Those stars going out... They're millions of lightyears away. Was it something that could be so widespread and move so quickly?
( She's still following him, at least. Even as she tries to rationalize it away (or help further build the case). )
no subject
You think those things serve as good enough decontamination? [ he gestures towards the cryopods nearest them, even while he works at the closure of his jumpsuit with his gloves. they should probably burn it, right...? ]
no subject
But Miller seems fine. And when he indicates the cryo pods they're passing once more on their way to the observation deck, another chamber, she nods immediately. )
That is what they're intended for. To halt all bacteria, bodily functions, and put one in a stable stasis they can be woken from at the press of a button. It halts all progress of disease and cancer— if one can't be cured that day, then perhaps in a decade. More. They can be brought back around when they can be treated.
Theoretically. That was the greatest hope in the technology. Perhaps this is geared more for space travel, but I imagine the effect is still the same. Maybe not decontamination, but at least to halt the progress of any possible bacteria or disease.
Do you need a hand with that? Is it the same one you wore before?
( Because yeah, ditching it is a good idea. )
no subject
You see any spare clothes lying around?
[ not like he super gives a fuck. he can manage in his underwear until they find something. he's gonna miss these boots though... ]
no subject
So many things were beyond their control and all they could do was try to keep up and combat what couldn't be reasoned with. You can convince someone not to break their own arm, but there's no convincing a virus to let up on a person's lungs once they catch the flu.
If he's paranoid for fearing something like that could be possible, then call her paranoid as well. She knows it's possible. She'll help him with the outer fittings before entirely exposing him, but she at least runs the seal down his back to where he should be able to twist an arm back and reach it. That's when she notices those bumps along the top of his spine, first.
Second is just how pale his skin is. She has to refrain from touching those bone spurs over his vertebrae. )
Let me check. There should be some in the cryo chambers' supplies, for anyone inside.
( Again, theoretically. But this time the theory proves right; she goes to the first empty one she finds and rifles through the storage beneath usually holding the supplies for hooking one up and sick bags and mylar blankets for resuscitating those within, and pulls out... Oh, those are much too small. (A child's.) All right, next one.
Bingo. Likely to be a bit short at the ankles, but it'd give him cover. They're glorified scrubs and hospital socks with grips along the soles, but what else can one do? )
Here we are. I think I see a biohazard disposal chute over in that corner, as well. It should be an incinerator.
( At least there's no one else (awake) around. If he wants some privacy, he's free to duck behind some curtain or another set up about the stations in each corner, likely for monitoring entire quadrants of pods. If not, she'll be helping peel him out of the suit to dispose of it while he gets dressed, and see to the proper disinfectant washes. )
no subject
just about the time he's in skivvies and dumping his socks into the incinerator she's handing him new clothes and he dresses just as unceremoniously as he undressed. but don't think he didn't notice her staring at the knot in his spine. the scrub top leaves it exposed anyway since his hair hasn't grown back much yet, but nothing to be done about that. ]
Thanks.
[ muttered. he isn't good at gratitude, but she didn't assume he was nuts or anything so that's worth celebrating on its own. then he's rubbing at his exposed bits with the glorfied hand sanitizer and ignoring when his skin gets red and blotchy. small price to pay after he saw what that shit can do. all his belongings get the same treatment before he puts the stuff back in his pockets and throws his holster over his shoulder, lifting his eyebrows expectantly for angela to buckle him in. ]
no subject
Don't think she hasn't noticed that piece of cracked glass he tosses on the ground, either. The necklace she recalls him pulling out before, and it's only then she gets a proper look at him.
Lanky, long-limbed, certainly not moving like he's far lighter and brittle by any means, but those knots at the top are still exposed even as he pulls the top down and gets to disinfecting his skin. She doesn't catch him quickly enough. )
Oh, don't— here, you need to dilute it before using that elsewhere. ( Hands are used to the abuse, but the rest of the body isn't. She's using that same damp towel to swipe at his skin where he'd already put it on. Sorry, you're getting mom'd all to hell right now in her immediate response to soothe irritated and angry skin before it burns. Then she's rinsing the towel off again and showing him how to mix it— judging by the reaction of his skin, she cuts it by a third with plain water in some disposable cup before pouring it on the towel to hand him, before getting a new towel. It's just hot water this time. ) This is just water— let me get your head.
( Better than nothing, and he can't put that disinfectant on his face. She'll get his holster fixed up after if he lets her scruff his head with the hot towel. )
You're welcome, Joe.
( In the sort of tone that says you don't need to thank me for this, but it's nice that you are, offering him a lopsided little smile. )
Was there still something you wanted to show me that made you suspect the protomolecule you mentioned, or was it just the stars? If there aren't any samples, there isn't much else I can do besides see you disinfected.
no subject
Yeah, I know. An' let's hope there aren't any samples to test.
[ he'll be milling around a while making sure, and also seeing if he can't steal some boots off that big guy he helped river haul in here. what? he's not using them! ]
no subject
There's a soft "there" under her breath, declaring him fit, before she's reaching to buckle his holster over the baggy scrubs and tugging the material to lay as flat as possible, creasing it to fold in under the arms and take in the excess.
Sorry. She's a bit of a perfectionist and won't leave him looking frumpy if he's putting himself in her care, to any extent.
That sigh could sap the energy from her, too, if she let it. )
I can only desperately hope the same. But you should be fine now. No fear in being around anyone else. You know how to get ahold of me if you'd like to check in again, or have anything suspicious you might find?
( She's not really poked around with the devices they were given yet, but she's sure she'll figure it out. )
no subject
Huh? Oh yeah, sure thing, doc.
[ miller might have already set himself up an account, never one to be out of the loop for long. this has been... informative, angela. he knows he can call on her for help and he is grateful she believed him. ]
no subject
Not that Angela's any better. Gender didn't factor into attraction with her either. (Angela, don't make these sorts of assumptions about people!!) Or maybe it's just the detective being sarcastic. Who knows.
She doesn't know what else to do with him if he's not going to take her anywhere in particular to show her anything— she helped him decontaminate as best as possible, incinerating his vac suit and anything else possibly carrying some dangerous microbe, and has to hope it will be enough.
It doesn't answer anything about the stars, the alarms, or why everyone had suddenly been ejected from their cryo chambers. It didn't tell her whether or not that twinge of a recollection was correct or not, for why she's here. Why anyone's here. Were their planets truly gone? The population of Earth certainly wasn't aboard this station, so evacuation was only partial if it had happened at all.
It's too many questions rattling around, and she's still not entirely stabilized from a rude awakening. She's running on fumes and will continue to push herself to the brink of collapse, most like. But she runs a hand back through her fringe to right it over her ear, drying in gentle waves from the dampness of the defrost, making a further mess of it she'll have to take out and redo when she notices.
She fishes out that device they were given and gets to poking around a bit, at least enough to boot it up with an initial profile and navigate to some contacts section or another. She makes sure he's listed there and sends him some basic smiley to keep him in her recent messages. Her username is simply: Mercy. Because of course it is. She uses her Overwatch Callsign to be recognizable to anyone who should recognize it. The technology is a bit old from what she knows, but it will have to do. )
Right then. It was nice meeting you, Joe. I hope I get to see you again soon. We owe each other a drink.
( And she holds out her hand to shake. (She'll try not to crush his delicate bird bones and opt for a gentle squeeze, soft palm to his with calloused edges along her fingertips from wielding surgical instruments.) )
(no subject)