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! |
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They're currently facing something more worrisome, even if Jack doesn't seem terribly concerned— all Angela can think about is infection, parasitic debris in their bloodstreams, blocked arteries, and a million other possibilities for what this could mean from a medical standpoint and it has her fingertips curling over the heel of his hand, not quite slipping in to hold it but stabilizing the way she keeps her arm close to his. She doesn't want to hurt him for her own clumsiness either.
His answer has her expression falling, brows pinching as her eyes shift elsewhere. The next exhale is more of a sigh, disappointed. )
I wish I could remember seeing them. It's been so long.
( She misses them terribly. )
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The only reason that Jack isn't as concerned as Angela when it comes to the vines is that he's been dealing with El Nysa's bullshit for a while now. He knows that even when it throws something random and indecipherable like this at them, it will either wear off or a solution will present itself. Nothing's been permanent, so far.
It's understandable that Angela is upset about not being able to remember spending time with Jesse and Reinhardt. She'd been close to both of them, and chances are that it's been a while since she saw either one, back home. ]
Instead you're stuck with us.
[ He gives her a wry smile. Two men who are supposed to be dead (and might be better off that way), and then Moira. Probably not her top choices. ]
I'm sure you have a lot of questions about all this, though. I can try to answer them.
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But when he says she's "stuck" with them, her smile is apologetic and the pinch of her brows is even more troubled than before, shaking her head slowly. She gives that little edge of his hand she has a squeeze for sincerity, supplementing her words. )
I'm more glad than you could possibly realize to hear you're both all right. I would much rather you alive than dead. No matter our disagreements in the past. I respected you very much, you know. I still do. You gave me a very important chance to better the world when most wouldn't even listen and you always heard me out after, even if you weren't able to act on it.
I know you tried, Jack. I was never able to tell you that before. I'm sorry.
( Moira she could likely take or leave, he's correct on that, though she thinks that they would find one another useful in this place for matters such as exactly these. Another bright mind to collaborate with and bounce off of to figure something out. She'll just have to see.
But he's offering her the chance to ask her questions and she considers him for a long moment. The white hair, the creases of stress and time and a rough life, the scars. What he's told her already having returned others and lost them, and she thinks, more than anything, she just wants this to be... easy.
She doesn't want to be another complicated person in his life. If he had to explain to anyone else who was here, he shouldn't have to pause over her name and be unable to answer how well he gets along with her.
Just a few, then. It wasn't as though she couldn't ask others later. )
If I may... I only have a brief recollection of bits and pieces of a story. Is our Earth really gone...?
( Without going through the proper waking cycles, she wasn't given the full picture. They didn't wake up nicely in chambers aboard the station, clothed properly and warm and dry. She'd been numb and cold and wet, in an uncomfortable body suit. Reeling. Head pounding with the piercing alarms cutting through the haze, pumping her full of adrenaline she didn't know what to do with. Any excess she'd been given was largely lost in that disarray. So confirmation of their arrival here, then. And he'd already told her who was around, who had been here before. )
How was I before?
( With him and the others. What had she done here, how had she settled, did she have a home— there are many facets to that question, but she thinks he'll know and be able to answer the important parts. )
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That being said, there had always been that mutual respect between them, even when they did get into arguments about his decisions as strike commander. "I know you tried, Jack," she says, and he hadn't even realized he needed to hear something like that.
Not that all that trying did much of anything for his agents or for the planet, when all was said and done. But there's still some sense of closure in hearing her say it. It's enough to wring a brief smile out of him.
Angela doesn't dwell on it, moving on to ask her questions. He doesn't want to be the bearer of bad news here, but he can also understand that she needs someone she knows and trusts to confirm the worst. He exhales slowly and nods, that smile replaced by a weary frown. ]
As far as any of us can tell, yeah. I didn't want to believe it at first either, but there's evidence at this point that the Storm is a real thing, and data up on the Station showing its trajectory through planets.
[ His hand lifts up, reaching out to grip her shoulder and squeeze. This won't be an easy thing for her to accept, either. All of their hard work, put to waste.
At her next question, his hand falls away and he shrugs. It's strange to tell someone about what they'd done in the past, knowing they'll likely never be able to reclaim those memories. ]
It was early on. I was still in Olympia, and so were you. You were getting a lay of the land, getting to know people, offering your services. I... wasn't ready to tell you who I was yet, so you just knew me as Soldier: 76.
[ He bows his head and shakes it, knowing that any excuse he gives won't be enough to justify his actions. ]
Sorry.
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And it makes him smile. A genuine one, creasing the corners of his mouth, and she gives him another little squeeze as she mirrors the same.
See? You're not so bad, Jack Morrison. And he's far from the worst company she could have here. She's glad for him. She's less glad that that smile was so short-lived, giving her cause to dread what comes out of his mouth next, though he delivers it evenly enough.
He eases the sting of it with his hand at her shoulder, warm and rough even as he squeezes her with care, and she reaches up to cover it in an appreciative little pat without trapping it there. )
I see. And in your time here, have those who brought us here seemed trustworthy...?
( The followup, though... Well, it gets a wry little smile out of her even as her brows pinch, because "not ready to tell you" sounds an awful lot like "didn't know if I could trust you". )
I should have known that had been you. You don't need to apologize to me, Jack. I understand. It hadn't been safe for you for so long.
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He hadn't been ready to face any of them, but ultimately El Nysa hadn't left him with any choice. If he can be grateful to the Natha for one thing, it's for giving him the chance to make some sort of amends to his agents, or at least the few who've woken.
Angela doesn't want an apology, she understands, and while Jack can't see how she's able to handle this all so calmly, he isn't going to push his luck. In this place, it's better that they stick together, so he's relieved she hasn't run off to angrily process all of this, as justified as she would be doing so.
Plus, they still have the connecting vine to deal with. ]
It's not much of an excuse, but... thank you, Angela.
[ He lets out a rough breath, like he's shedding a weight from his shoulders, and then answers her question. ]
I didn't trust the Natha from the start. But it probably doesn't surprise you to hear that.
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The fact of the matter is that he had had his own demons to battle and his own goals to accomplish, and he hadn't gone to her when he needed her help the most. Then as days went by, that need lessened more and more, shrinking down to something shriveled and dried up, lodged somewhere within him. the hurt associated will fade with time. He needn't be privy to that when they're making up for it now. It's another moot point in the past. )
It isn't an excuse at all. And you're welcome. I'm only sorry I couldn't have been there for you. ( This is something she appreciates far more than the cold burn of anger. The relief of seeing him able to shed some of that weight and feel better for it, to hear the words he speaks no matter what they may be, because it means they haven't wedged one another away. Then, with some small amount of teasing that tells him he isn't obligated to take her up on it: ) Now will you let me hug you?
Though you're right; that doesn't surprise me.
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And while he isn't going to admit it, he really hadn't been in any state to talk to anyone for months afterward. He'd needed the time to himself, and by the time that he'd licked his wounds and picked himself back up onto his feet, his decision to function as Soldier: 76 had already been made.
At the second mention of a hug, Jack has to give a begrudging nod. ] At this point, I'm not sure what else will work. [ He'd had to kiss Ana to forge their pact back on the mountain, so he's not unfamiliar with the quirks of this planet requiring strange things from them.
There isn't any reason to delay it at this point, so he spreads his arms and steps in to close the distance between them. It might be out of necessity more than anything else, but a hug is still a hug. ]
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She gets it. It's water under the bridge now, and there's no room for hurt feelings.
The way he caves to the request and the stiff way he spreads his arms has her laughing, warm and easy, as she reaches up to cup the nape of his neck in one hand and the other sides about his ribs to soothe down his back, melding right to him with her chin barely reaching his shoulder. )
Even if it doesn't, I just wanted to get ahold of you and be sure you're real, you know.
( It's a joke, but she's sincere in that she'd just wanted to be able to embrace him and give him that gladness, squished right into him. See? It wasn't killing him. It doesn't even hurt. She holds on as long as he'll allow, weight shifting from one leg to the other in a playful little sway, but the way she holds him is enough to let him know he's important to her.
And, somewhat miraculously, it seems to work— not without a twinge as something deep inside her chest shifts, pulls away— and then proceeds to slither its way out of her chest and out of her arm, coiling heavily as its weight falls out of them and then she squeezes him, muffling some soft sound of discomfort against his collar. The relief that follows, though, has her softening again. Just... give her a second. )
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It doesn't kill him, and he does let Angela hold the hug for quite a while, mainly because he figures that half-assing something like this might mean that the vine won't actually disappear. They should make it a proper hug. To his credit, he doesn't just stand there to be hugged, making sure to wrap his arms around, his hands meeting at the middle of her back.
He doesn't do this often, obviously. Even with Ana, their physicality hadn't really been like this. There is something about being hugged this earnestly by another person that is healing, though. Jack doesn't melt into it, exactly, but he doesn't hate it as much as he might have thought he would.
Of course, that possibility is why he'd refused originally.
The pain that follows doesn't actually register that much for him, if only because pain is a much more common experience in his case. He tilts his head to glance down at his wrist, watching as the vine drops away from it, falling to the ground to wither and die. Angela's still holding onto him, and Jack gives her a few more seconds, long enough for the pain to fade, before he pulls his arms back and takes a step away. ]
It was that simple, huh. Guess I owe you an apology for refusing earlier.
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But he's warm and he's solid, and he's holding onto her in turn, careful though he may be. It's nice. And even if he felt awkward about it, he is letting her get her fill and he does relax minutely to the slow sweep of her fingertips along his spine, so she would have never guessed. Stiff in the offering, yes, but not any longer.
And she draws back the same moment he does, sucking in a steady breath after the initial jolt of pain and the wash of relief, looking significantly more relaxed. (Probably because there was no longer some foreign plant in her chest cavity but you know. She's trying very hard not to think about the bacteria introduced even in that timeframe, and she's looking at his wrist before her own with a gentle hold and twist. They're both just fine.) )
It certainly seems to have been; this is such a strange place. And if it's your place to give me an apology, I suppose it's my professional failure for not properly assuming the cure. I'll owe you one in turn.
( Let her be a little playful, and tease him for something as silly as trying to apologize for a strange alien plant. That certainly hadn't been his fault, nor could they have known what it would behave like or how to ward it away. )
Dare I ask if there's any coffee around here?
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Either way, there's no harm done and they successfully rid themselves of the vine, so he isn't going to dwell on it. ]
Guess that was as good an introduction to this place as any. There's plenty of other weird stuff like that that goes on around here.
[ He can tell her more over a cup of something warm, sure. At her question, he nods, because Nadril has to specialize in good hot drinks by the virtue of it always being so cold here. Some people prefer taverns to warm their blood, but there are definitely other options. ]
I think I can find us something, and I'll answer whatever questions that you have.
[ With a nod, he turns and makes for some of the nearby businesses. Even if he isn't a commander of anything anymore, that purposeful stride of his is still the same. ]