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meadowlarklogs2018-12-16 04:38 am
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Entry tags:
- !arrival log,
- dc comics: dick grayson,
- detroit become human: markus,
- dogs b&c: giovanni rammsteiner,
- dogs b&c: heine rammsteiner,
- ffxiv: x'rhun tia,
- ffxv: aranea highwind,
- ffxv: ardyn izunia,
- ffxv: ignis scientia,
- ffxv: noctis lucis caelum,
- ffxv: prompto argentum,
- injustice: damian wayne,
- killjoys: john jaqobis,
- mcu: daisy johnson,
- mcu: leo fitz,
- mcu: peggy carter,
- npc: gaby,
- starfighter: cain,
- the 100: clarke griffin,
- the man from uncle: gaby teller,
- voltron: keith
ARRIVAL LOG 005
WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: Night of August 23 (through to August 30th)
WHAT: The fifth arrival
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy. Further notes at end of log.
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: Night of August 23 (through to August 30th)
WHAT: The fifth arrival
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy. Further notes at end of log.
> ARRIVAL LOG #005 |
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Awareness comes to you in blurred snatches, cloudy fragments of sound and light, color, sensation. Hazy and difficult to grasp on to, but slowly aligning into focus. A series of regular, rhythmic beeps. A medicinal, astringent smell. The sensation of movement, a low hum and accompanying vibration under you. Your eyes are heavy, hard to keep open, but in the glimpses between slow, dark blinks you see four people in black body armor seated opposite you, as well as a man in dark gray scrubs. You realize there are others next to you. All of you in white scrubs, hair recently cut but at various stages of growth, restrained by straps across your chests, arms, feet, holding you to the bench under you. To your left, an armored interior door, two more people visible, the movement of dark streets and neon windows passing through a windshield. You try to open your mouth to speak, but it's as if your tongue is coated in tar, and you manage nothing more than an empty parting of lips. The vehicle stops. The guard opposite you stands and comes to unbuckle you from the bench, helping you to your feet. Your limbs feel wooden and heavy, slow to move. One guard opens the back of the vehicle: beyond it, a chamber only dimly lit by strips of light along the floor. The nurse moves to stand at the back of the vehicle, checking each passenger over one by one just before they're helped out of the vehicle, quick and methodical. She doesn't climb out after you, moving to sit as the last passenger is unloaded. The guards keep their heads down. Their actions are quick, firm, but not entirely unkind. Under your feet, you can feel the thrum of heavy bass vibrating through the floor. You see nearby that there is another bus, another load of passengers being helped out, lined up much like you are. Once you're all in place, the guards move down the line, pulling dark hoods over each passenger's head. Your arm is lifted, placed on the shoulder of the passenger in front of you in line. "Hold on," says one of the guards. "Stay quiet. Keep moving until I say stop." There is no will in you to fight the orders. How far you walk is hard to determine. Counting steps is difficult, and any concept of time passing stretches between the sound of footfalls and breathing - soon overshadowed by the music. Growing louder, closer, the heavy bassline begins to reverberate through the air around you, amplified by the acoustics of the place. Melody and vocals become audible, the chatter of a crowd. Finally, you stop, and the hoods are pulled off, following down the line as the guards walk back. You turn to look after them, but they quickly disappear into the darkness of the tunnel behind you. The door in front of you swings open, the full weight of the music washing out. A tall woman with sharp, geometric patterns of ink tattooed across her skin smiles at you with sharp teeth, glowing luminescent in the UV lighting above her. "First timers?" she asks, but doesn't wait for an answer. "Don't worry, those costumes are great. Come on, come in." As you move to comply, she takes each of your hands, stamping a twisting design on the back, shining bright in the UV light. "Welcome," she says, as she ushers you out of the lobby and into the noise and crowd beyond. "To the Insomniacs' Ball." ◉ Though entirely capable of independent action and thought, new characters will find themselves completely, unquestioningly compliant to any verbal statement which could be taken as a command or request. |
> THE INSOMNIACS' BALL |
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The message from El comes the same as previous: insistent, not waiting for any active attempt to open it. Scrolling within your vision as if being written while you're reading it.I'm not saying bus #5 got past me, but our favorite mysterious human traffickers have gone seriously sneaky this time around. And I'm not saying I can't help you get to where you need to be, but I can't. This one needs legwork, because you're going to have to land invites to the Insomniacs' Ball.The Insomniacs' Ball is an open secret. A New Amsterdam urban myth, disbelieved by many and desired for by even more. A week long party held every year as the working schedule changes, as the city struggles between the oppressive heat and the shifting of sleep cycles. Whether you'd prefer to be asleep at night or day, the ball doesn't care - a rolling, 24/7 event that continues until it disappears, as quickly as it arrived. Its location is a secret. Existence frowned upon, possibly even shut down by the authorities - dancing until you fall down is hardly advisable while water rationing is in place. Yet every year the rumors spin again, the whispers, clues and tastes and photos shared on social media which vanish before anyone can really be sure what they saw. Whoever puts the ball together is as good at keeping their head down as Morningstar - and most likely greases more wheels, rather than trying to be a wrench in the machine. Either way, all El can do is point you to the same paths anyone else hungry for an invite is taking. THE PUZZLEHowever you've managed to get your hands on an invite, the directions on the back are the same - leading you deep down into the city's underground, past some of the darker corners and into some even darker ones. A rusted, disused door to an abandoned maintenance area wouldn't look like the place, but the intricate geometric design painted silvery and barely visible across the surface matches the invite you hold, and you know you've found the entrance to wonderland. Behind the door, lies a twisting network of tunnels and rooms built into natural caves, ultimately abandoned by the city when its insides proved too difficult to navigate. Now, for a short time, it's home to a carnival of revelry. Strobing neon lights illuminate snatches and glimpses of the crowd, glowing in pools of UV: a dense mass of people from all over the city, young and old, music and dancing flowing from chamber to chamber, clashing and mixing between. Extravagant, outrageous costumes mingle with simple streetwear, or with no-wear at all. People hand out masks, drinks, substances which it may not be advisable to consume. Sealed bottles of water seem to appear from nowhere, passed among the people, their source and seeming escape from the rationing in the city far above going unquestioned. Smaller chambers offer some respite for those who need to take a minute, catch their breath, or want a quiet corner to talk with a new friend. Other chambers contain more hedonistic displays, with most participants always willing to accept another into their number. No one seems to be in any rush - there's roughly a week to soak in all the delights, and you can even come and go as you please, the UV pattern now stamped on your hand allowing access back through the various doors, if you can find your way back to one. But you're here for a different purpose, and whether it took you hours or days to find your way here, you know that the party will end eventually - and anything more unusual which may be hiding inside will be revealed. ◉ The Insomniacs' Ball and the related methods of gaining an invite will last for one week, from August 23-30. New characters can be retrieved at any time during this, or can find their own way out and be discovered on the streets - just please be advised that they will not be able to survive in New Amsterdam without first spending time in the Morningstar safehouse and having their ID set up. |
> THE SAFEHOUSE |
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Access to the safehouse is a hatch hidden behind stacks of empty storage shelves in the back of an abandoned supermarket in an outer district of the city. The immediate area is similarly abandoned, empty stores, flanked by several blocks of dive bars and clubs which cater to more niche tastes. A place where people can come and go unseen, or, if seen, not spoken of. A dark haired woman called Gaby is ready to greet the new arrivals and get them settled in, brusque and no-nonsense – she'll be open for in depth questions later, but will advise everyone to ask the people who brought them in for the beginning bits of information. ◉ The safe house is a large open space, filled with rows of basic cots set up to sleep a large amount of people. Basic, but outfitted with everything necessary for daily life. A few doors lead to back rooms for storage, medical care and a large communal bathroom, and past the long rows of cots there is a communal kitchen, fully stocked, and an eating area. Privacy is at a minimum. |
> FINAL OOC NOTES |
Welcome to Meadowlark, newbies! You're now free to post to the network and logs comms. To reiterate, your characters will have no IDs or inboxes, nor be allowed out of the safehouse until they have been there for four days. At that point it's expected they'll have gotten a good idea of their new situation from their fellow characters, and will have discussed their background and job potentials with El in order for their false IDs to be set up. If you have any questions or ideas about how you'd like to get your character involved in the world, or if they'd like to join Morningstar, please head over to the plot engagement post and drop us a comment! For questions specific to this log, there is a thread below. Please check out our December calendar rundown for a look at things happening this month. As a reminder, AC this month will be a check-in only. AC will be posted on December 20 and close on December 27. If you do not reply to AC, you will be considered idled and dropped from the game. We will not post a warning list. |
> NAVIGATION |
no subject
so he stops instead. raises an open hand up to shove his fingers through his hair, brushes them back from his face and bites down hard on the inside of his cheek. tries to calm himself down, recenter. wants to lower his voice but over the loud music that'd be fucking ineffective as hell. )
Look, ( hissed between teeth and jason's. doing his goddamn best, at least. ) I'm sorry! I'm being a fucking asshole and I know. I know I am. I'm sorry. I was bein' an asshole, ( a breath in, and jason's. finding the nearest fucking thing to lean against, pressing lips tight together. )
I'm expecting you to understand shit I know you can't. I know you're used to me being different and I'm not used to--this you but fuck.
( it's hard to put all of this into words. to be steady, to not sit here and start yelling because that's--jason's default, isn't it? to yell angrily, to throw a fit, to overreact. it won't help him here. so he closes his eyes. )
Kinda hard for me to fucking talk to you and try when you keep walking away from me.
no subject
[That maybe, just maybe, he doesn't want to talk to you?
He wishes that it were that simple. That he could forget that in Tim and in Damian, he'd learnt a measure of brotherhood and responsibility that he'd never exhibited with Jason. Not except for a handful of times, when he'd managed to remember that he was just a kid, and that the arguments between him and Bruce should only have stayed there. That he could be angry, and hurt, and leave to stew in it. That one day Jason could push him, and Dick could write him off for real.
Hates that it's still the same now, as it is when he first arrived, as it was a year ago, and the year before that. That he'll decide Jason is beyond him, and then see something that makes him scramble right back after him, all over again. Jason leans away from him, against the nearest surface, and Dick crosses his arms over his chest, presses his tongue to the back of his teeth. Considers.
The apology is unexpected, and sounds sincerely meant- despite the frustration and the volume needed to carry it to him, coating every word. That admittance of the differences- that he isn't used to this, feels like an olive branch. Dick wishes that was simple too. That he didn't have to reconcile this with the Jason who'd stabbed his first brother, on more than one occasion. That had shot a bullet that had severed Damian's artery. That had killed carrying his name. That had rather let go and fall than rely on Dick.
Jason wants a chance. Jason wants to try. Jason wants to follow a system he doesn't even believe in- and so it doesn't matter. Next month, they're going to be here again. Maybe worse off for it. There's a moment, where his foot shifts, where he contemplates the closed eyes and how easy it would be to sink backwards into the crowd, before he releases a frustrated noise sharply, in the back of his throat.
He's moving forward a moment later, snagging onto his arm and shoving, pushing him a few steps further down, before the empty smaller chamber he'd been eyeing to take a breather in. Get some quiet. If they're doing this, they're getting a measure of privacy. The last thing he's going to do is compromise anyone else here, over this]
Get in here, or I'm really not doing this.
no subject
or didn't. he's been trying his goddamn best to get himself together. to figure out how the hell to communicate without causing issues, how to open his mouth and not spew shit that just causes others to get even more angry. clearly, he's doing a shit job at it.
but dick is trying with him anyway. grabs hold of his arm and means to drag him off. jason doesn't fight it, goes along with his grip and lets dick pull him off. he could stop him. could fight him, throw him down to the ground and turn this entire thing in another direction but why would he want to do that? after he spent all this effort just getting dick to fucking listen to him, the absolute last thing he wants to do is convince dick it had all been a mistake, that letting his guard down enough to come this close to jason was something he shouldn't have ever done.
jason's lips press tight together as he's yanked into a more quiet cavern, doesn't pull out of dick's grip until he feels like letting go. this is fine. entirely fine. he's trying, dick is letting him, jason isn't going to object to it. wouldn't fucking dream of it. )
Doing what?
( listening? talking to him? being in the same space as jason, or? )
no subject
There had only been a mission or two, where Jason had followed his lead and it hadn't been the smoothest process to get there, even when he was young.
Surprising or not, he'll take it. Once they're settled firmly into the quiet chamber, Dick directs Jason to one side and then let's go. Walks across the small space to settle against the other wall, to have a clear view of Jason's face. His lips press tight together, and he's more subdued than he had been, just moments before, when he'd been yelling his name as if it were the insult instead, across the crowded room]
Any of this. No one is getting compromised over this.
[Their family drama. Over Jason being a jerk, over Dick being one back. He has no problem cutting and running back to the mission and leaving Jason to find him another time, when no one will be caught in the crossfire to talk, or spend time together, or whatever he thinks the end goal here his.
As it stands, he works on getting the cap off his water bottle, takes too solid, long drinks, and takes a few moments to breath deep. To catch his breath that he's sorely needed since leaving the dance floor. After a moment, he extends the bottle in Jason's direction]
Okay, I'm listening.
[You just, didn't think it'd be easy though, did you?]
no subject
doesn't look directly at dick as he settles in against his own side, because wow, this is awkward as fuck. he already apologized. already said what he felt needed to be said, and now? where is he supposed to go from here?
the water bottle gets an eye but jason doesn't reach out for it. would it be safer to have a bit, drown out a bit of the alcohol sitting in his gut? probably. but he doesn't. )
Look, ( even, steady where his voice had been slurred not too long ago. jason's slowly pulling himself out of his drunken haze, getting back to the surface of it. dick doesn't appreciate people being stupidly under the influence, showing that isn't going to get him any favors. ) I was being an ass.
( he'd still argue he's fucking right. that dick is alright on the surface but just as fucked up as the rest of them below it. that he's hiding crap. probably not safe to mention the whole "i'm sorry but i'm right" bullshit. )
But I'm not going to change who I am for you, just like I don't expect you to change for me. 'll work within your rules, follow your lines, ( to the best he can, that goes without saying. ) even if those lines're keep your nose clean. But hell, Dick.
( another deep breath, and he raises eyes up to meet the other's own again. )
I can fake it with the best of 'em, but is that really what you want? To watch me act like a completely different person, all the fucking time? To get a normal job, do normal shit, knowing that I've never been wired that way? There's only so long I can play within the lines if it's goin' that deep.
no subject
He keeps the bottle extended. Because it's hot, because he's had more than enough to drink, and someone being under the influence doesn't thrill him, but Jason refusing to re-hydrate when he knows he should, doesn't endear him either. It doesn't help that he's either not sure what he wants to discuss now that he's actually gotten Dick's attention, or that he's still too stuck in the haze to pull them forth.
His voice when it finally does come, on the verge of Dick losing his patience and likely starting this conversation off more aggressively, is steady. It's a bit of a surprise, but not so much as the admittance is. His eyebrow arches, and his expression before he schools it back to something neutral and closed off- probably says it all. He's not sure how much he believes that Jason means that. That he knows he took it too far, over stepped, was wrong to do what he'd done- or if he's just telling him what he thinks Dick wants to hear]
Yes. You were.
[And he's still distinctly upset about it. It's going to make more than that, sincere or not, to smooth that particular thing over. Because even if Dick were willing to ignore that Jason had spoken for him- had taken whatever he may or may not known about the Dick from his world, and applied to him- he'd dragged Dick's parents into it. Their deaths and his childhood and assigned a meaning. That's a line he wouldn't have crossed for Jason, even when Jason had brought up his own mother's death. It's a hurt and an anger that's harder to dismiss than the rest. It doesn't matter that he'd spent more time being the ward of Bruce Wayne than he has the son of those who'd brought him into the world. Their loss hasn't lessened.
But Jason thankfully keeps talking, and Dick turns that over in his mind. Thinks Jason is either working up to the heart of this whole thing- or simply focusing on the wrong aspect of what caused the current fracture in their relationship. Gives it thought nevertheless, and is careful about his response] That wasn't what I meant by any of that. Not the way it sounded.
You're so different. I'm still finding the lines. [It's not an admittance he likes to make- not when knowledge is the true currency among the batfamily, but it's a necessary one. He exhales sharply through his nose] But that doesn't mean it's not what I want for you. I'm not the same person I was when I was a kid, or when I first moved to Bludhaven. [Read: Became Nightwing]
In two, three years- I won't be the same as I am now either. That doesn't have to be a bad thing! Just because it isn't who you are now, just because the rules are hard for you to follow, why are you so ready to throw in the towel and decide it can't ever be done? Why did you bother to tell me you were trying when I first got here, and why are you bothering to tell me you're willing to do it now- when the whole time you're planning to fail?
What is even the point? Either you want to learn to do better, be better, or you don't.
[He doesn't want you to fake it. He wants you to grow, to change naturally- you weren't always this way, and he doesn't know how to keep forgiving you if you want to keep making excuses that it's impossible to expect more. That this is new unchangeable nature.
That's without even touching the elephants in the room of how he'd hurt their brothers, how he'd dragged Bruce into all this]
no subject
dick doesn't get it. it's clear as day in the way he responds, in the words he says. he doesn't understand why jason is the way he is, what happened to make him this way. he probably thinks jason--wasn't this, when he was small. that something happened between his death and now that caused him to become this angry, uncontrollable force. he believes in jason todd, still. to an extent. and it's something. it proves that dick hasn't given up on him even if jason has mostly given up on himself. it proves that there is still an in, here. that jason hasn't fucked up his relationship with this dick to the extent that it's not reparable. )
I realized something, a while back. ( this is probably an easier way to start, isn't it. jason's voice softens, though there's cracks at the edges of his tone. ) That I kept trying and pushing for what I thought was right, but that all I was doing was pushing everyone else away. I was angry, and I didn't know how to control it. Hell, I'm still getting that bit down. But that anger was eating me alive, consuming every piece of me that I was trying to save and I hated it.
( hated being alone. hated being hated. he's a always been an outsider looking in but it was getting so much worse, when all he was doing was yelling and screaming and pushing everything away. )
I don't want that. I--( voice lowering, those cracks slipping in even further. ) I wanted to be part of the family again, even if I know I'll always be the black sheep of it. I wanted it, so I promised B I wouldn't kill anymore if he'd let me in. That I'd play by his rules, follow his guidelines, because I wanted something to hold onto. And I don't think that's wrong, ( following them, letting himself wrap fingers around something solid and hold onto it. ) but it doesn't mean I feel any different.
( some people deserve death, sometimes death is the only way to save more lives. killing the joker could save billions, by damian's count. and he'd rather kill a killer and become a monster himself if it meant protecting thousands of innocents. )
Every time I try and get close to someone I fuck it up. I get them killed, I break them, and I hate it. I don't want to do that with the bunch of you. With all the shit I've pulled I'm surprised I haven't already, but--here we are. ( with all the crap he's pulled on tim, tim's still understood. still let him in, even if jason's been barely a step away from killing him on more than one occasion. ) I don't want to lose that. Lose the only family I've got left.
That's what this is about.