❪ test drive #4 ❫

[natha]

YOUR STORY BEGINS     The Storm came. You only remember darkness, but you don't remember much after that. All you know, perhaps, is that it was cold. You don't know for how long you slept, but the dreams were short, at least. You remember the expanse of stars and the universe that came in view. Every world and solar system ever known was displayed in your dreams in careful, pristine detail. You have also witnessed The Storm, which has devoured a fair portion of these galaxies. It was a dark, thick smog — ominous in appearance and ever foreboding. Your Earth and similar planets were immersed in The Storm. Somehow, you knew it would be the last you'd see of it. That was when she told you what happened, and how you could help. You knew that you'd be living somewhere new, even though you never asked for it. The details here weren't clear, but you knew you'd made a deal with Darma. Not long after, you'll wake at Thesa Station — your body is still cold. It all felt like a dream, but somehow, you knew it wasn't — now, will you keep that promise you made to Darma? PROMPT: THE STORM     CW: death You were awake on Thesa Station. But at some point you, like many other new arrivals before you, wandered into the Observation Deck. Ordinarily, this is where images of The Storm are replayed to remind Refugees of the fate they have escaped. The Natha Orbiters' technology has evolved. They are aware of your gaps in memory. You may have doubts of The Storm even existing, or of your world's destruction. Though they do not wish reliving those last moments on anyone, they have created an experience that will do just that. Before entering the Observation Deck, you are warned that what follows will not be for the weak of heart. As soon as you step in, you will find that the walls around you begin to transform and expand. Welcome to the Planet Cespi, in the Circinus Galaxy. Unfortunately, we were not able to save this world from The Storm's Consumption. These are its last memories. You are surrounded by blue, grassy hills as far as the eye can see and a pleasant breeze. The atmosphere is thick with a sickly sweet smell. Before you lays the scene of a quiet village, with its residents going about their everyday lives. You aren't alone, either, with an equally confused stranger (or perhaps you know each other?) surveying the scene. Then the world grows completely silent for a full minute. You and your partner are unable to make a sound, verbal or otherwise. Without warning, a deafening roar fills your ears and forces you to double over in pain. The villagers run out of their homes in a panic, finding themselves in just as much pain and confusion as you do. Where there was no sound before, now there is too much for a normal human body to process. Look up. An expanding mass of energy is swallowing everything you can see. It consumes the earth, the atmosphere, the depths of space — and it is getting closer. Your only hope is to outrun it, if you can. The people in the village certainly try to, racing past you. Their fear is very real. Their bodies are very real. You may be able to run from it for a time, only able to catch glimpses of this dark and sinister force swallowing everything and everyone. The earth rumbles and separates beneath you. Electricity surges through the sky, and then through your very body. You fought hard, but it is impossible to outrun the Storm forever. You too will be consumed. Your death is quick, but not painless. What were you thinking, before you took your last breath? You awaken back in the Observation Deck, next to your new friend. PROMPT: TRAINING MODULES     While it’s all nice and well to familiarize oneself with Thesa Station, it is most advised that new arrivals venture out a bit. Not physically. No one is quite prepared for that yet. However, there will be several virtual reality training programs set for those who dare to be adventurous. For those who aren’t and don’t dare, well — good luck, all the same. Once seated and appropriately strapped in, the system will automatically whir to life. 1. When you enter the Natha's newest program, at first nothing loads. You might think this is an error as you look around in apparent total darkness, only able to see your own virtual body if you look down, but soon enough a voice comes to life as if speakers have turned on somewhere. Long ago, the lands of El Nysa were dominated by the ancestors of the dragons who now live among the people, tamed. It was pretty dangerous! How about a little history lesson? And then the simulation comes to life— a. The lush lands that blossom to life around you all at once are real enough to make you forget you're in a simulation — at least for a moment. Those refugees who have been to the planet in reality before will find themselves in territory as unfamiliar as those who are brand new, as this simulation takes place far back in history. Instead of sprawling cities and civilizations, the most you'll find is scattered villages, many of them no more than nomadic campsites at best. You've been outfitted to blend in with the natives and these simulated people won't react to you as a newcomer, but as a member of their village. Are you a doctor, or perhaps a warrior? Maybe you're even in charge! But they want your help, and they want it quickly: a dragon is coming. The dragon is larger than the mount-sized breeds that exist on El Nysa today — much larger. It's a good six stories in height, bestial, and angry. Maybe it's then that you notice the lands that surround you are littered with scars of scorched earth, some of them several yards across, and there's a reason these people don't live in one place for very long. But don't linger too long on the makeshift grave markers sticking out of the burnt countryside — the dragon is coming. b. If you're looking for something a little less violent, perhaps another area of the historic simulation will be up your alley. This one finds you on a cliffside, waiting among other villagers for an event the people are talking about in hushed whispers, some of which you can identify as prayer. When the white dragon raises its head up from the depths of the ravine, towering impossibly high over you and the others on the cliffside, it's no wonder most of the natives fall to their knees in awe and wonder. This dragon doesn't attack, only looks at the people on land with an ancient and strange wisdom. Then it speaks. Not in words, but the low rumbling sound that starts in its throat and becomes a full trumpeting bellow to the sky seems to have meaning, and somehow, you can understand its cry as it entreats the people to praise and worship. The natives around you are already starting to give offerings with their prayers, food and carvings and — blood? Is that someone's arm being offered up? That's different. 2. Let us now travel forward in time, shall we? a. The Olympian settlement around you is quiet — until the screaming starts. Guerilla fighters from Wyver flood the streets, knocking civilians aside and breaking down doors and windows when they find their way barred. They move methodically, advancing toward the nicer parts of town where the politicians reside and leaving terror in their wake. They're here for the politicians, people say. They're here to punish the people who made the decision to advance into Wyver in the first place. Blood for blood, as the saying goes. Where they'll be taking them once they have them is anyone's guess. A soldier emerges from a building, dragging someone in elegant clothing out by the hair. Looks like they've found one. Will you rescue them? Make a run for it yourself, lest you be mistaken for one of their targets? Or maybe they've already caught you and some other unfortunate Refugee who's been dropped into this simulation, and the two of you need to figure out a way to escape. b. CW: branding You find yourself in the midst of a bustling crowd gathered at the Temple of Thesa. Robed acolytes stoke fires on either side of the altar at the front of the temple, where miserable-looking people who seem to be from a village in Wyver await, bound in ropes. The priest, at the front of the crowd, picks up a metal brand from the altar and gestures for another acolyte to bring a prisoner forward. The crowd watches with interest as the prisoner is forced to kneel in front of the altar, their arm laid out flat on the marble surface. Another cry — "For the glory of Olympia!" — and the crest of the city is burned into the prisoner's arm. The crowd cheers, deafening the cries of pain. The priest ushers forward another prisoner, and then another. Is that a familiar face you see in the lineup, thrust into this bit of history by the simulation's whims? You have to do something. Or are you unlucky enough to find yourself bound? ...Well, hopefully someone else in the crowd has more scruples than this priest. 3. And now, the present. After all those enlightening scenes, the simulation finally brings you to a more quiet area of Olympia. You are deposited out somewhere in The Outlook, a place the very first group of refugees had to trudge through before they found their homes. You've arrived in the early evening — but sunlight is waning, and soon you'll be under a sky full of stars. Luckily, their old campsites aren't too overgrown. The intention here is to get you familiar with some of the local flora and fauna. What sorts of plants will you encounter? Do you find yourself under a Verillum Tree, suddenly compelled to be painfully honest and truthful in conversation with a complete stranger? Find yourself behaving erratically in the presence of Whistleweed? Or perhaps you'll have to break the spell of being trapped in a Vena Amoris' vines... with a kiss. PROMPT: STASIS UNIT     You have found the massive section of Thesa known as the Stasis Unit. There’s no special access required to enter this part of Thesa Station, but refugees are warned that it may not be for the faint of heart. Here, in large pods that nearly cover every square inch of the space, are all of the people the Orbiters have managed to rescue. Your loved ones, your greatest enemy, your next door neighbor — you might find them here. These people are in a state of deep cryosleep. Due to the damaging effects of The Storm, their bodies are not yet ready to be awoken. PROMPT: OMAGE     Upon receiving your mobile phone, you will be asked to set a username. Voila, you can now access the network! You can choose to send a message to the entire network, specific usernames, or you can try out the Orbiters’ service, Omage, which connects you to a random user. They thought this might be a good way for their new guests to make friends with each other... Connecting to server... Looking for someone you can chat with... You’re now chatting with [username]... Say hi! PROMPT: WILDCARD     You are welcome to write any scenarios in Thesa Station! Characters have been granted temporary access to the Observation Room, and are encouraged to study it carefully. FINAL OOC NOTE     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! An AC-length thread may be submitted for 2 NATHA ORBITER REPUTATION POINTS after acceptance here. Please submit by February 18th. We will no longer be providing overflow posts. In an event where the post hits CAPTCHA, players are advised to move threads to an overflow post on their character journals or create their own catch-all post. These threads remain eligible for REP. There will be an application cap of 60, and no reserves. Please read here for more information. QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● lore ● map ● npcs taken ● atp/emp ● application ● rep/acp calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

Comments

Miles Naismith Vorkosigan | Vorkosigan Saga

[dendarii]

TRAINING SIMULATION - OLYMPIAN BRANDING

[ This is new. Miles has seen holovids galore, been through plenty of tacsims in his first year at the Service Academy - but this is downright immersive. His first reaction to the mildly horrific scene of someone getting branded is rush forward. Not out of any sympathy, no, but rather out of dire curiosity. How far does this simulation go? Did they program his birdlike bones in too? They certainly seem to have input the other details of his body - his wide gray eyes, diminutive frame (4'8", with a lined face that belies his actual age of eighteen), his green military uniform. He hurries to the front of the line not to save anyone but rather to offer out his own arm. ]

Fantastic. Can we actually be hurt like this, I wonder? [ That last statement is vaguely directed at anyone in the area, and sort of at the priest himself? Only Miles Fucking Vorkosigan would react to the potential of physical harm with breathless anticipation. ] I wish we could have had this tech instead of winter maneuvers at the Black Escarpment.

[ You might want to jerk him back before manages to break something. Or the simulation itself. Or maybe you just want to watch this play out? With Miles, it's guaranteed to be entertaining, no matter what happens. ]

STASIS UNIT

[ After either breaking or completely failing to learn from the simulation, Miles finds himself wandering the stasis pods idly. Well, as idly Miles ever gets; the young man is twitchy even at relative ease, looking up at the pods with his luminous gray pods, searching for anyone he might recognize. Not entirely certain what he's hoping to find. Does he hope that he has friends or family in here, safe from the storm? Or - does he continue to disbelieve that anything's wrong with home at all? Either way, he's cataloging faces and personal details as fast as he can, almost making a game of it. ]

Red hair. Ah, brown eyes. An Arkadiy, surely. Don't you think?

[ He doesn't turn towards whoever's next to him; he just keeps pacing along the rows of pods, still looking. Still flippantly disbelieving of everything that's going on. ]

OTA

[ Want a different prompt? Anything else? Prose? Texting adventures?? I AM DOWN lay it on me. ]

Simulation

[vorrutyer]

[ Oh, for - Byerly wants to walk on. He desperately does. He wants to leave that all-too-familiar dwarvish frame capering about with its standard hyperactive idiocy. But Le Petit Prince is, by rights of birth and lineage and legitimacy, with Gregor still in stasis, Le Petit Emperor - the little Lord Auditor ascended to a higher plane of existence. And By, by the bonds of duty and obligation, cannot leave him there to get chopped to pieces.

Kill me now.

And so a hand fastens around Miles' collar, and drags him out of the line. And Byerly apologizes as he yanks him - ]

Apologies, good fellows, apologies. He's a little drunk. Double meaning there, did you catch it? A little bit drunk and a drunk who is little. Hah.

[ The monsters burning flesh are annoyed enough by his patter that they look away to avoid further conversation. ]

[dendarii]

[ At least it's simulated chopping? Miles would probably be completely fine, anyway, once he was out of the simulation, but he would be in quite a lot of pain inside of it. Probably. Best not to tempt any fates here.

He squawks a bit as he's dragged back, struggling against his would-be rescuer. More concerned with getting back with the action than the dragger or his comment (rude, Byerly) just yet, although he will soon address both. ]

Excuse you, I am not in the least bit -

[ And then he just sort of stops a moment, gaping up at his cousin in disbelief. ]

Byerly? What the hell happened to you?

[ You're all old. ]

[vorrutyer]

You happened to me.

[ The youth is a little harder to read on Miles - his wizened old-man face and his size always makes him look a bit like a wrinkled little baby. So By doesn't register his oddness right away. Instead, he works to pull his cousin further from the line of guards, further from the danger. ]

Why am I not surprised that you arrive and immediately try to get yourself butchered? There's a few sayings about Vorkosigans, as I recall.

[dendarii]

[ Even Byerly would be forgiven for assuming Miles is in his thirties. The most obvious scars at his neck are covered by the Service uniform, and his bones are hardly visible from the outside. He scowls a bit as Byerly drags him back. Knowing he can't do much to stop it, he instead goes stubbornly limp. ]

Supposedly I'm responsible for the premature aging of quite a few people. But you are something else.

[ Old, Byerly. So old. Anyway, he scoffs at that comment. ]

It's not real. I'm in no danger whatsoever.

[vorrutyer]

The pain is real.

[ And, with irritation: ]

Dragging your heels isn't going to slow me down in the least, you know. A rat can be dragged by his tail.

stasis unit

[willrevile]

[ 'Faint of heart' Jim is not, but there's still something wrenching in seeing his crew - his family - locked in cryosleep. He believes parts of this setup because he's seen weirder, but he remains skeptical on the overarching truth, and more skeptical about this.

Wrenching or not, he finds himself here when he can't sleep (which is most of the time, so far), gripping a battered paper cup of whatever passes for coffee in this realm and pacing in front of a selection of units. Stilling, when someone approaches, though he's quiet at first. Observing the way he's going unobserved. ]

You okay? [ Not the most sincere-sounding question; he's tired. ] Or just taking inventory?

[dendarii]

[ Miles is definitely focused more on the pods in front of him. But - he's also quite unaffected by them, strangely. Or perhaps that's not such a strange reaction to have upon first coming here. He's in complete denial that any of this is actually happening; rather, he's convinced that he'll wake up back in the Service Academy soon enough, with everything back to normal.

He pauses, though, as Jim speaks up. Refocusing on him, dulling his bright curiosity a bit in deference to his obvious mood. He's a steamroller, not an asshole. Miles is also a very short young man, with obvious bone deficiencies contributing to his height of 4'8". Despite that, though, he's clearly in a military academy uniform. ]

Inventory, I suppose. An intellectual exercise.

[ Yeah. Still not convinced this is real. ]

[willrevile]

[ Jim notes the uniform - not so much the height; it takes all kinds, where he's from. His own garb may or may not obviously be something standard issue, with Starfleet's finest redesigning The Look every few years. The bars on the cuffs of his gold tunic aren't visible under the jacket he's thrown on over it, but the formal collar and insignia pinned to his chest are. ]

With strangers?

[ Or are these people he knows? Jim swallows the last of his coffee, and then looks over at the nearest pod - reaching up to set the empty vessel atop it. It feels slightly rude, but frozenSpock can't complain. ]

[dendarii]

[ Miles knows a pseudo-military uniform when he sees it. His gaze drifts over Jim for a moment, taking in the collar and the insignia and the rest of him. And straightens a bit himself.

Poor Spock. You're so rude to your commander, Kirk. ]

Oh, I've seen people I recognize. It's all very convincing, isn't it?

[willrevile]

Not to you, though, [ he assumes, expression quizzical. Inviting discourse about the validity of this place, apparently.

(Spock's a nice guy, he'll get over it.) (For sure.)

The coffee hasn't really helped in either direction - damn you, future caffeine. He needs another sixty cups, probably. ]

stasis

[badgerlock]

[Even for a Buckman, Fitz is tall. Tall enough that Miles is a midget in comparison, broken and bent and strange looking. But Fitz also knows the value of a person who is not attractive, who is short and unsightly, because that's what Chade raised him to do.

He bristles at himself at the thought of it, recognizes his training, and sets it aside.

He looks over though, at the person in the pod.]

A family I'm unfamiliar with, I think.

[dendarii]

[ Miles looks up at Fitz. And ... up. It's just unfair for anyone to be that tall, dammit. His own genes wouldn't be too bad at that if not for the teratogenic issues ... He straightens a bit, unconsciously trying to measure up. ]

As am I. But everyone here has a story, don't they? Even if none here recognize their face.

[badgerlock]

Yes.

[But that's obvious. Everyone has their own life, even if it's a quiet one. Everyone has stories to tell.]

You're new, aren't you?

[dendarii]

[ Miles nods at that. ]

I suppose so. Not that it matters, given that this is all a dream anyway.

[badgerlock]

[He looks at Miles, then, his eyebrows tilting slightly up.]

No.

It isn't a dream.

stasis

[phykios]

Uh. A what?

[ it's not that percy likes being in this room. for one thing, it's creepy. for another, everything about it -- the greyness, the quiet, pod after pod of people, some of the faces painfully familiar -- makes him want to take his sword to something or someone, and not just in a stupid simulation.

still, he can't help coming back here. what's he supposed to do, pretend his friends and family aren't being kept here in creepy glass boxes? as if he could.

admits, ] I have no clue what you're talking about.

[dendarii]

An Arkadiy. You know, the name. Since I've no idea what his actual name is.

[ He's still not convinced any of this is real. Miles continues to look up at the anonymous person in front of him, musing. His gray eyes are bright and curious in the dim light. After a moment more, though, he turns towards Percy. ]

Nor do I know yours, for that matter...?

[phykios]

The name, [ percy mutters, sarcasm evident, ] obviously.

[ which is to say that yeah, no, he's not familiar. ancient greek, latin, no problem; but he's not too up on his russian names. (or his russian...anything.)

the guy turns to face him, finally, and percy finds himself wondering for a second -- beyond the stature and appearance, everything different about him -- if he isn't a relation of athena's. it's the eyes: gray and sharp, taking in everything around him, the kind percy's seen on so many of the goddess's children. a space station after the end of the world is the last place percy would expect to run into an unfamiliar demigod, but you never know. ]

Percy. [ perseus, actually, but hardly anyone calls him that. ] Percy Jackson. And I could say the same to you, dude.

[dendarii]

[ They sure look like Athena eyes. And if demigodhood were a thing in his world, well. Miles sure has the right temperament to be a child of Athena too. Hell, he even speaks Greek.

His gaze sweeps up and down Percy with tactical precision, tucking all the bits of information he can see away for later. Young fellow, probably strong? The name doesn't give him any real hints about heritage, but he's also in a different world. He bows a bit, waving one hand in a flourish. ]

Admiral Miles Naismith. [ A beat before deciding to add his last name. ] Vorkosigan. But just Miles, please.

[phykios]

[ (one of these days, percy's going to curse in greek and be very, very surprised when miles understands it.)

miles's gaze -- that analytical, calculating intensity -- is one percy's more than familiar with. he's been on the receiving end of it more than once, and he's also seen annabeth and the rest of cabin six size up other demigods that way. in other words, the comparison to athena kids is only reinforced in his mind.

despite everything he's seen and done, percy manages to look pretty normal. he doesn't have any big, obvious scars like his old mentor and enemy luke castellan; just the faint, easily hidden kind that most people don't notice. he's toned and strong from years of running for his life (and, you know, fighting) but he's not -- like, an ares kid (or mars kid, hi frank).

he checks a step backward at the whole flourishing, bowing business, sincerely hoping miles isn't expecting that kind of formality in return, and as miles introduces himself, percy's eyebrows migrate higher and higher up his forehead. ]

Admiral Miles Naismith Vor -- [ gods, he's lost track already. no wonder the guy prefers miles. ] Um. Yeah, Miles is good.

Stasis

[prettier]

[Freddie was just passing through, really. It's like someone's science experiment in here: bit creepy, funny smell. He prefers scrolling through selections of strangers when they're confined to faces in a hookup app.

Still, there's someone alive in here, at least, and he's found himself gravitating toward them without exactly meaning to. Partly to figure out how old they are: they can't let kids loose in here, can they?

It's not the voice of a child, when he speaks.

Freddie's voice, to anyone familiar with his own homeland, is Northern and languid, a voice that takes pleasure in hearing itself. A bit posh, to anyone from the same city he is. Common as fuck to anyone from the South.]

No, that's a ginger. Not always unfuckable but it does tend to tip the scales.

[If this place is going to act like a creepy test-tube tinder, he may as well treat it like one.]

[dendarii]

[ Miles is young - eighteen - but not a child by any stretch of the imagination, even if he could be mistaken for one from afar. When he turns, his face is also distinctly adult despite his small body. Yeah. Not a kid. Though he does stare at Freddie a moment before laughing. ]

What do you have against red hair? I think it's lovely.

[ He may be biased, though, given his mother's own roan tresses. ]

[prettier]

[Miles turns and - no, not the fourteen-year-old his height could have indicated. So, that's different. And different - whatever Freddie says, or however he acts, sometimes - has never been offputting.

He looks older than Freddie in one way, though Fred's the reverse of him. Could be taken for eighteen more easily than the twenty-four he is, except for the way he carries himself. It's the self-assurance anyone who spent schoolyears as the most beautiful boy in the classroom should have. The look of someone who should be a complete dick, by genetically gifted right, and often is.

It's almost too self-assured a manner to belong to any awkward teenager, but get close enough and there's the air of someone too practiced in looking confident and careless. Close but not quite the real thing. And the veneer is what really takes age to achieve. He offers a sharp smile, coming over for a closer examination of the pod.]

Well, they come in extremes, don't they. Weirdly beautiful and just bloody weird. You're out of luck with this one, though.

[He knocks on the side of the pod and it clunks dully.]

May as well save the flattery for when he can hear you.

[dendarii]

[ Miles could very easily be mistaken for someone in his twenties. So yes, he almost certainly looks older than Freddie. Certainly he assumes that the young man in front of him is his own age and not older.

Miles snorts a bit at that, shaking his head. ]

Alas, that won't happen, will it. I'm not sure if I'm glad to see so many people here or unnerved.