meadowlarklogs | ARRIVAL LOG 006

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ARRIVAL LOG 006

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: Night of September 3 to night of September 4
WHAT: The sixth arrival
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy. Further notes at end of log.

> ARRIVAL LOG #006

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 streets 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, and false, colored light, illuminating the streets in the distance will first alert your senses of being somewhere else, combined with warm air that's only cooled with the setting of the sun. The nurse moves to stand at the back, checking each passenger over one by one just before they're helped out of the vehicle, quick and methodical. He 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. Once all the passengers are out, they climb back into the vehicle and close the doors. The engine powers up again, and then the bus is gone.

You're left alone in an alley, with no idea of where you are or why you've been brought here.

Around the corner of the alley, the streets are lined with bright orange, yellow, and red ball-shaped lights cluttered together overhead. Despite seeming rather tangible in nature, the balls themselves are merely well-designed projections. These lights illuminate the streets filled with people – some of which seem indifferent to the festivities, while others move in dense clusters toward a city square filled with countless trucks and tables. They disperse as they arrive – to trucks, to stations to have faces painted, to admire the wide array of sweet confections available. Numerous bits of signage announce various additional activities – but anyone new won't be able to interact, won't know what information is there.

◉ 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.

> LANTERN FESTIVAL

The message from El – no, wait. It's Gaby this time. Otherwise, it's 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 on announcement duty this time. Bus #6, for anyone who's counting. The location? Well, the heart of the lantern festival. A short walk from the safehouse.

Like many of these festivities, the New Amsterdam Lantern Festival is an annual event, dating back decades as a means of celebrating the mish-mash of culture that influences New Amsterdam as it's seen today. Sponsored by Polarized – a known subsidiary of Pulsar – the lights go bright just as the sun begins to set late in the evening, spreading over the city, acting as a dense layer of luminescence for 24 hours. Even in the daytime hours, the lights remain, and the technology seems to make them seem just as bright – which acts as a sign that the lights themselves are not natural, projected outward by numerous devices set up throughout the city.

Most of the events are concentrated in a district square that was once known as the city's Chinatown. At the heart of this festival is a large gathering where numerous food trucks and restaurants come out to advertise their wares. Specializing in desserts and little else, these businesses flood the street every year in hopes of bolstering their business because they can't partake in the restaurant promotion throughout September. The festival concludes with a competition, with each chef revealing their unique lantern festival dessert. These are often rather impressive in nature: cake pops strung together like a dragon, ice creams that make people's mouths look like they're glowing, and large cakes, shaped and designed to celebrate New Amsterdam's arts and festival scene. Many of this year's offerings will both celebrate the year before and offer a somber reminder of the lives lost in the monster attack just months ago. Smaller, sample sizes of these desserts will be available for purchase, which also grants people access to one vote for their favorite dessert.

As the lantern festival comes to a close almost a full day later, the lights clear a path to the river, where countless people will be stretched out and looking skyward for this year's fireworks. Loud, symphonic music featuring some of New Amsterdam's most popular composers will play throughout the area, synced up with the bombastic explosions themselves.

Most of the six newcomers will have hopefully been gathered long before the fireworks go off – but anyone else is free to enjoy them and the festivities leading up to that final conclusion. The festivities vary in nature, from a place for someone to claim a lantern of their own with a wish, to using UV paint to legally cover the ground in unique symbols and lights, to joining competitions where people place chess and checkers for a wider audience. Each of these activities is monetized, so don't expect anything to be for free.

> A VISUAL DETOUR

There will be several new and persistent additions along the most likely path to the festival from the safehouse: small, man-made shrines that have appeared just hours before the dense layer of lights settled over the city. Depending upon their makeup, these shrines vary in structure, size, and design, but have several unique, persistent similarities between them.

Some of the shrines are fully formed, with candles lying underneath them, and cloth blankets acting as an overhang for the art within. At the heart of each of these shrines is an image of a person, with a large, upside down triangle projecting from their chest – blue and noticeable – with their arms spread wide. Some of these triangles project from the chest as if a piece of a 3D pop-up structure, while others are simply a part of the image itself, a flat, smooth surface. Beneath them, there will be a scene from a familiar event for anyone who's been here for a while: a car flying into a monster's mouth, a person healing someone else, bright blue eyes and fingertips, showing the artist's personal interpretation in motion. Any of the cloth is covered in geometric symbols, intersecting circles and triangles, many of them in specific and particular patterns.

Other shrines are two dimensional in nature – painted, to be more specific, on the walls themselves – both hidden bits of scenery meant to blend in with the surroundings, or large and spread out, splashing wide arrays of colors and symbols. Whoever set up many of these artistic displays had a special paint and familiarity with the lantern festival lighting, as it draws special attention to the blue light that pours out of the people featured, whether it comes from their eyes, mouths, or the traditional chests. Silver and gold geometric symbols stretch around these images, framing the scene portrayed.

These additions aren't only located near the safehouse, but that's where they're concentrated for now. Within days, they'll be elsewhere: on walls in oft-frequented public restrooms, behind popular nightclubs and bars, and just about anywhere else – popping up and coming down as people tire of their presence – or are simply bothered that they're there at all.

> THE SAFEHOUSE

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.

◉ New characters will be asked to pick their beds, and provided with a change of (second-hand, mismatched and somewhat threadbare) clothes and basic toiletries.

◉ While there were previously also NPC occupants of the safehouse, natives to New Amsterdam, these people have now been moved on to somewhere safer. A few of their belongings remain, discarded or accidentally abandoned.

◉ Gaby will make it clear to all new arrivals that if they have any requests or queries, they should contact her or El.

◉ The drugs making new characters compliant will remain in their systems for a few hours after their arrival at the safehouse before finally beginning to fade. They will be gone entirely after a night's rest. In the meantime, they may want to be careful of what others say to them.

◉ New characters will be given rudimentary access to the network on arrival in the safehouse, but will not have their ID set up yet. They will be able to make posts and replies, but their messages will be anonymous and they do not have inboxes yet.

◉ New characters will not be allowed to leave the safehouse until SEPTEMBER 7. These 4 days are for them to adjust, learn about the world they've arrived in from their fellows, and for El to speak with them and work on setting up their IDs.

> 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 September 7 (January 14). 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 January calendar rundown for a look at things happening this month.

As a reminder, AC for new characters accepted in December and January will be 10 comments across 2-4 threads, while current characters will need to provide the full AC of 20 comments across 2-4 threads. AC will be posted on January 20 and close on January 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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

ARRIVAL/LANTERN FESTIVAL

[ awareness comes in blurred snatches before he settles more fully into consciousness, drugged and exhausted and restrained —and then freed, stumbling out of the vehicle and half-turning. he means to help whoever comes after him down, but a nurse is quicker and the thought slips from his mind.

it's too hot here and his eyes need a moment to adjust to the lights. the scrubs do nothing to hide the gills at kaldur's neck or the webbing between his fingers. ]

COMPLIANCE
[ the heat makes it more difficult for kaldur to focus, his toxin resistance ineffective against whatever is in his system. someone tells him to watch it and it's just a figure of speech, the "it" in question never specified, but kaldur still finds himself transfixed by lantern floating on a string, illuminating the path ahead and casting shadows and light with every turn in the wind.

he struggles, inside his mind, against the compulsion, but it is of no avail. (m'gann could help, he is sure. he would ask her to, were she here, despite the things she did to his mind when she thought he had truly changed sides.) ]

HEATSTROKE
[ atlanteans are sturdier than the average human, stronger and more solid to withstand the pressure of the ocean. there's the ability to breathe underwater, too —many things kaldur supposes one might regard as advantages.

these are balanced by the need to stay hydrated, by a weakness to high temperatures. he feels the sweat build on his brows quickly after leaving the bus and can't seem to find water —if there's a pool of it to submerge himself in or even bottled water to pour over his head, he cannot tell.

the dryness of his throat and the time he'd spent transfixed by the light do not help and he takes a step, another, and has to lean against the first solid wall he finds, breathing harder than normal, fighting to stay upright. ]

SAFEHOUSE

[ at the safehouse, kaldur settles in.

he spends perhaps too long a time in the showers, still and naked with his head tipped back toward the stream, water pouring over his body. there are tattoos on his back and neck, spiralling down his arms. at no point do they light up and glow with atlantean magic and the loss of power is something deeply disturbing to kaldur, but that worry is set aside, pushed deep inside his chest to be dealt with at a later stage. for now, hydration is the most pressing matter.

he finds a bed. if someone is near it, he will ask if it is taken —and introduce himself, demeanour calm and respectful, utterly polite, holding out a hand with webbed fingers, either unaware or uncaring of the emotional bond the skin contact will spark.

at various points, he will also be in the kitchen, looking into cabinets or preparing simple meals that he would be happy to share. ]

WILDCARD

[ anything goes! hmu @ abiosis if you want to chat. also someone pls get this boy a scarf to hide his gills?? ]

( jason doesn't know kaldur'ahm--but he does know of jackson hyde, ex member of damian's self-built teen titans. knows his face, the shape of his nose, his build. and from a distance: this guy could be the spitting image of him. it's once he's up closer, gets a good look at the gills on the side of kaldur's neck that he realizes, while similar, they're definitely not the same fucking kid. this one's older, looks a little more sturdy.

sure of himself, even with the drug induced haze and the lack of decent fucking clothing. and jason's making his way up right behind him, fingers raising to tap a shoulder if he can get close enough. murmurs soft close to his ear: )

You lost, kid?

[ kaldur notices jason's approach —of course he does. even as out of it as he is now, his situational awareness is exemplary. it has to be and months under deep cover have made him all the more aware of people moving around him, of eyes and ears in his vicinity at all times.

he notices, but turning is a slow affair and jason's hand lands on his shoulders before he's managed it entirely.

kid. he has not been called that in a long time. ] I am. [ the admission is measured, despite what it is he is admitting. there's something familiar about the man in front of him, but kaldur cannot place it. (the jason todd he knew died young, far younger than this jason is.) ]

( and he's not trying particularly hard to hide himself. another time, maybe; another time he'll try and mask his presence, do his goddamn best to sneak up on kaldur, see if he can get this guy to jump. weight leaning against the hand on kaldur's shoulder and jason gives a thoughtful hum. leans in even closer. )

Who're you looking for? ( no one, he imagines. what answers would be a better question, but that's not how jason words it. he murmurs soft instead, ) Someone with an "R" on their chest?

( his damian, is who he's leaning into. the thirteen year old societal menace out to torment everyone around him. )

[ kaldur's brows draw together for a moment. he feels sluggish and slow, the heat getting to him almost more than the drugs still in his system. ]

I was not looking for anyone.

[ an "r". robin? but why would he be looking for tim drake? admittedly, he knows tim to be competent and would not mind his presence, but if he were to look for anyone here, it would be dick. ]

( you are the absolute least helpful titan jason has ever met, thank you very much. whatever. the pressure on kaldur's shoulder grows until jason starts--trying to lead him off towards the safehouse itself. he doesn't like it, but there's not much of another choice for them just yet. )

No? Must have mistaken you for someone else. ( idly, voice still low. ) Though I gotta admit, white is not your color.

( the scrubs. )

[ he's not a titan at all. ]

Perhaps so. [ the pressure onkaldur's shoulder grows, jason pull-pointing him in a particular direction. kaldur forces himself to stand where he's been leaning against the wall. his legs feel weak underneath him. it's too hot. this conversation isn't moving very fast and neither is jason, but it still feels too fast for him at this point. ] Can you tell me where to find water?

( jason's sturdy. if kaldur falters, he'll catch him. hold him up just enough, but definitely nothing that would come off as--weird. strange. )

Feeling a little dehydrated? ( murmured soft, but, ) What're you looking for, a bathtub full? Water bottle?

( then there's a look to the gills, free hand raising up to softly press a gloved fingertip against the side of kaldur's neck. ) Thirsty or do you need to go for a swim, Gilly?

[ jason is sturdy, but kaldur is heavy —admittedly not so heavy that jason couldn't hold him up if he faltered, that he couldn't catch him. kaldur would prefer to avoid faltering at all, but he may not get a choice about it. ]

A bottle would suffice. [ for the moment, at least. it would be enough to make him able to stand up straight, he thinks, and walk without having to lean on anyone.

jason is taking a lot of liberties and another time, kaldur would have taken a step back and evaded the hand coming toward his gills with ease and smoothly. now, one fingertip finds the side of his neck and he presses his lips together and doesn't shiver. it's a close thing. ]

A swim would not go amiss. [ he does lean back, away from the hand. a moment too late, maybe. ] You seem to know [ something about me ] your way around.

Edited 2019-01-07 21:38 (UTC)

Well, I should. ( jason murmurs soft, takes them slightly off the trail to the safehouse. stops along one of the shops and gives the clerk a sheepish smile (it doesn't match his face, doesn't reach his eyes) before asking for a couple bottles of water. his tone is soft, gentle. lacks the gravel undertones jason's voice usually has.

moves the hand off of kaldur's neck to take them and uses the implant to transfer credits for the bottles.

tugs kaldur along a few steps beforre shoving one up against his chest. )

Gonna tell me your name?

[ kaldur follows along, stumbling a little now and again and letting jason take some of his weight. letting jason lead. distantly, at the back of his head, he thinks he ought to ask a lot more questions, but his throat feels dry and he's tired. exhausted, really. he probably looks like someone who's had too much to drink, from the outside. ]

I am Kaldur'ahm.

[ jason shoves a bottle of water against his chest and kaldur sways for a moment before gripping the bottle, managing to twist it open. he drinks all of it in one go, throat working with his long swallows. ] Thank you. [ his voice sounds a little steadier now. his head feels a little clearer, too. ]

What is yours?

Malone. ( first bottle finished, and jason offers kaldur the second. starts picking up pace again, but he's--not being forceful. kaldur isn't struggling, he sees no reason to push or shove yet. but the name definitely means something: this guy might be fishy, but he's not damian's fish boy. )

We're in the middle of drought season. Water's being rationed--enough for an average guy to get by, not enough for gills. ( so kaldur's going to have a shit time. ) Care to tell me 'bout where you're from?

( different worlds, but jason's as nosy and paranoid as any other bat. information is key to getting by. )

Edited 2019-01-07 22:21 (UTC)

[ malone. that is not a name that rings any bells for kaldur, but with the water easing some of the strain of the heat, he finds that he has a lot more questions. some about things jason has already said. ]

Why did you think I was looking for an "R"?

[ another bottle. kaldur keeps up a little more easily now, limbs moving more smoothly. ] And what is it that you would care to know?

kaldur'ahm | young justice

heatstroke;

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