ARRIVAL LOG 008

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: Night of October 5 to night of October 8
WHAT: The eighth arrival
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy, alcohol usage. Further notes at end of log.

> ARRIVAL LOG #008

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 blue short sleeve shirts and ill-fitting jeans, 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, there is the smell of beer and a weird yodel-like sound – no, wait. That is definitely yodeling and beer. Further movement forward will lead to you finding yourself in a busy area filled with multiple people carrying reusable cups full of liquid. You've just shown up at a party with a bunch of people wearing nearly identical clothing. The good thing is that everyone is probably too drunk to notice.

◉ 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.

> OKTOBERFEST

The message from El comes the same as usual: 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 starting to think that the arrests last month mean that our friendly delivery men have had to change up what they're doing. Either way - the group waiting for you this time is huge. The get up? Blue shirts, all around. Let's see how long that lasts. Anyway. Arrival #8. You know the deal, don't you? I bet you're all already out there having a good time.

Although New Amsterdam is a mish-mash of world cultures, there are certain traditions that took root in the city as it began to form its identity. Yes, one was Anime Naexpo. Another? Oktoberfest. Hoping to capitalize on the heritage of the region, businesses throughout New Amsterdam pushed for the continued celebration of Oktoberfest. In fact, the only time it wasn't celebrated was during the Xelkoven War, as the fight between humans and AI meant that any celebrations were put by the wayside.

Perhaps even more so than having to work during an anime convention, Oktoberfest is not a fun time for customer service workers. All around, various different cashiers, food truck chefs and drivers, rickshawers, couriers and more find that they don't have a choice but to dress up in Dutch costumes recalling times of the past. These costumes are typically pulled out of some back closest and generally assigned to the employees, so some of them won't fit all that well. The problem is that it isn't cool enough to be dressed in these as the days cool off, and the only saving grace is that they get to work at night rather than the day. The early parts of their shifts are miserably hot, and things don't get better from there. If your character is a customer service employee, they can expect some uncomfortable days ahead.

Somehow, the discomfort of the various workers doesn't come in the way of the loud and festive activities. All around New Amsterdam, various tents go up selling a lot of different wares, many of which are probably second hand junk that people are trying to sell off for a few credits. This is the time when the Black Market stops working underground, instead opening temporary store fronts in tents that are far too nice for the wares they're providing (but at least they're trying to be a less obvious money laundering front). If someone's looking to get in good with the underground or get a sense of how to find these places for some actually illegal goods, Oktoberfest is a prime place to start.

Otherwise? Oktoberfest is likely full of what anyone would expect: a lot of beer, funny looking Bavarian clothing, a lot of live music, and a lot of opportunities for drunken folk to put on a good show. If your character is the type to look for an opening to grab some attention, this is the place to do it.

◉ There will be a lot of beers available in pretty much every single tent. The drinking age in New Amsterdam is 18, but it's equally unlikely that anyone will be checking implants with how busy everything will be. The most popular beer this year? "We're Lucky We're Not Cyborgs," an extremely hoppy IPA made by the most popular brewery in New Amsterdam. All of the beers are available in bottles that you can return for more, as businesses no longer sell alcohol by the can. Think of growlers – but in a far more manageable size! Feel free to come up with the cyberpunk name of your dreams for the beer. Or people can just drink the New Amsterdam River – which is the name of the beer with a picture of the man-made river on it. It's cheap, but reliable. Oh, and for those of you that don't like the taste of beer, there's cider and mead on tap at most places as well.

◉ There will be various stages all over for acts to perform, but the schedules will not be full. Before long, the characters will know that Oktoberfest is where some people plan to get discovered. And … it's also a place where some people become social media sensations, in either good or bad ways. Need to propose to someone? Need to show off your abs? These stages are the place to be. If someone's not up there, take the chance and make it your time to shine. Or … go down in infamy.

◉ Most of the food throughout the festival will harken back to its German heritage, albeit without a whole lot of success. There are sausages, but much like the hot dogs of today, it's likely better that you don't ask what's in them. A safe bet is the large array of potato dishes around. These are delicious – and cheap!

◉ There are some competitions, too! Virtual fencing – albeit in a very, very amateurish way – and virtual crossbow competitions happen throughout the three-day event. And then there's yodeling. One of the stages will be dedicated to this the entire time. Yes, people practice to win big, but that doesn't mean that everyone has to practice.

◉ Like with Oktoberfest of the past, celebrities will have their own VIP tent right in the heart of the financial district. If you have a favorite music, film, or movie star and they have a penchant for partying, this is the place to be. Sneaking in will be hard – but not impossible. Though some will find that they might have to work this tent. These celebrities can't go without their coffee or beer, after all.

> 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.

◉ There will be shifts when Gaby isn't present in the safehouse because she's shorthanded following the UNA attacks in our January event. New characters will find that if they try to open the hatch to leave during this time, it'll be sealed shut for anyone without a registered implant.

◉ 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 OCTOBER 9. 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.

> WHAT DREAMS MAY COME

As everyone goes to sleep, a familiar stomp vibrates through New Tokyo on the other side of the world. The wall outside of the city is stable at first, holding up, but the vibrations continue. The creature this time is twice as large as the one that hit New Amsterdam – 800m high, yet not seen until right around when the vibrations began. It should have been, by all rights: New Tokyo is no less secure than the other cities around the world, with constant surveillance and a dedication toward maintaining an idyllic life for its citizens. Its behavior is similar: it slams its tail against the outer wall of the city before it gives way, the destruction nearly absolute. In a panic, New Tokyo's UNA forces and police force move into action to try to bring down the monster and protect its citizens.

At the same time, whether they're still awake or already asleep, something stirs inside of the displaced. Their chests will glow without anything to bring it about – no power drawn on, either innate or new, and no skin touching. This glow seems to fatigue any of them if they're still awake, and will send anyone already asleep into a deeper one. Once they're under, the stirring within will give way to unrest that foments dreams and visions for many of the displaced. If they had a dream while they slept, characters will wake up with a burning sensation in their chest.

As for New Tokyo: it will be left in ruins by the time the UNA soldiers there manage to take down the monster. Several sections of the city remain intact – almost out of luck – and the governor of New Tokyo reports that they believe this monster came from outside of the city, having been given life by the unsafe conditions outside of the megacity. Within a few hours, this statement will be revised, with the governor admitting that he doesn't know what the monster was or where it came from, only that their surveillance saw that it came from outside.

The three dreams below are what each character will experience, though you can feel free to assume they managed to jar themselves awake before the dream finished. To get a dream, please comment below to get an RNGed number for the dream that they'll be having. Since these are unnatural dreams, you can feel free to have your character remember it in its entirety – or not, if that's what you'd prefer.

If you have multiple characters, we suggest you only have one experience a dream, but it's ultimately up to you!

> DREAM 001

A blue glow illuminates the site – offering light on a foggy morning, with everyone having completed their journey to this final destination. A sense of fatigue and relief that washes over everyone there, but also an inner warmth that seems to radiate from the site itself. Huge rocks rise up on either side of the site, acting as shielding barriers for these followers and what lies ahead of them. Despite the lack of natural light cast through the thick fog, there's still a distant glow, leading them forward.

You find yourself among these people, well aware of the many miles you walked to get here, most of it on an incline. Around you, the clothes that people wear are worn, tattered, made from wool that's begun to wear down. How long have you all been traveling? It's hard to say – hard to guess, only that you know that you were all drawn here. No single story is the same. Some saw symbols: triangles that glowed when they saw them in the periphery, as well as bits of circles coming together. The tree of life. Perfect like nature in its finest form. Others could never put the words to what they experienced.

Each of you feel the draw now. It resonates within you, fills you up. Just ahead, there are structures that seem to float in space, and when you draw closer, a clear, light blue bridge appears. The walk forward requires a leap of faith – and there are some unwilling to take it. Afraid. They wonder if they've wasted their time.

But you haven't. You walk forward, and the bridge carries you forward. You can't tell if you're walking or literally carried, but eventually you come to an alcove where a strange circular structure stands. As you step closer, it comes to life, a mixture of lights and – no, not sounds. But the same resonating warmth.

You walk into it and –

– you find yourself somewhere else. Somewhere new.

> DREAM 002

– this is not where you belong where you've chosen to live – this is not it this is not it this is not it –

Your fingers spread, wrapping around the nearest metal instrument to drag it close. You test the edge against your skin, drawing out a sharp pain. You never asked for this particular experience. But every day, you feel it.

It's time to take back what you can. The walls around you are white, pristine. Somehow, you know that they weren't a day ago. One of the others you know got sick, doubled over after a bad interaction with a medication. You see them now, dark rings under their eyes, a shaved head. How do you know this? Your mind doesn't answer you. You just react. Someone in a coat as white as the room draws closer. Checking your vital signs. Your breathing picks up – your lungs hurt. You lash out with the instrument, cutting deep. A bright red spreads. A sick smile creeps over your lips. You know that color, deep within you. You know it.

And then there's nothing.

And then life moves on (your life moves on). Has time passed? The room is different. The person with the red splotch of color on their lab coat is gone, and your build is different. More gangly, uncontrolled. Deep down, you feel an unabiding frustration. You hear a shout: "Put them down!" It's too late. A fire erupts. The doors seal.

> DREAM 003

You recognize the walls. The building. But there's some barrier between you and it, a constant, subdued fog that lies between you and your surroundings. The lights are bright. Everyone moves in a single file, dressed in the same white scrubs. You're among them. The workers walk alongside you, occasionally checking your vital signs. Sometimes they make you grab each other's hands, noting the shift in reactions or responses.

The air here is cool. Stale. Your head is cold, recently shaven. Like everyone else, sans a few. It looks like it's been a while since they had a haircut. You don't recognize them, not like the others. You're certain that you recognize the others.

Thought is difficult to process. There's an IV into your arm. You try to make out more of your surroundings, but the fog encroaches and takes over. You're missing your chance. Your chance to know where you are – were? Who did this to you?

Distantly, you see a marking on a wall. Letters. P - R - O - PROJECT. You're certain of it. What else is there? Nothing. No. Something, but not another word. It's a symbol of some kind, or – an animal? There's a splotch of yellow, bright and prominent on its breast, with a dark V that cuts down. The fog obscures the rest.

> FINAL OOC NOTES

This arrival log is a little different, as it doubles as a prologue for our monthly event! Everyone's character can have one of the dreams, and it'll hit them anytime within a day of the attack on New Tokyo. This does include anyone new to the game! So, please go ahead and comment below to have your dreaming character assigned a number. All assignments will be random on our part!

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 OCTOBER 9 (MARCH 17). 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.

All arrival logs act as mingles, so older players can please feel free to top level for the festivities described!

If you have any questions or ideas about how you'd like to get your character involved in the world, 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 March calendar rundown for a look at things happening this month, as well as some additional notes from the mods.

As a reminder, AC for new characters accepted in March 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 April 1 and close on April 7. 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

Comments

[larkers]

Dream 001!

[larkers]

Dream 001!

[cheffeur]

[He can't blame his confusion. After all, he'd had a fairly awful time when he'd initially arrived, dizzied from the drugs in his system and the flashing lights and revelers--]

There's no need to just yet. After all, it's certainly not like home. [But he'll gladly nod at the request for more water. It's probably better for whatever's in his system than the alcohol that seems to flow so freely. And distracting the newcomer with conversation and hydration seems to have helped with the shouting for ghosts and wolves, which means far less eyes on them.]

I'll fetch you another. [Thankfully it's not far to the counter, and he's able to return with Jon's bottle refilled, and one for himself.] Have you only just arrived?

[resleeves]

[ his eyes fall on the beer and then on her before he makes a face. ]

You been drinking from that? Pass. Don't know what alien garbage disease you might have. [ that's not very nice, he knows. does he care? he does not. it's a nice gesture but it's not for him. ]

Not what I want. I've had my fill of alcohol. What I want is a cigarette.

[ but apparently those were fucking outlawed here. ]

[evite]

[ a brow cocks in his direction even as daisy quite determinedly takes a bite of the sausage in question. really, it's not terrible. it's not meat, but it's not bug protein either. if she had to guess, probably a blend of tofu and bean, vaguely musty underneath all the dried seasonings the merchant's masked the taste with.

it was cheap, she was hungry. she has only minimal regrets. ]

You get used to it. [ a mild giveaway in itself that daisy is not, despite appearances, a local. ] Nice digs.

[ not. ]

[thwipandrelease]

[he nods once as he drags his ill-fitting boot on the ground. might as well have a neon flashing sign that says he's not from around these parts.] That painfully obvious, huh? And I don't even have one of those handy dandy 'Hello My Name Is' name tags.

[peter sticks his hand out. that's normal around here, right?] I'm Peter. Peter Par — Benjamin. [incognito mode activated] Peter Benjamin.

Really though, if you're not gonna eat that because you think it might be bugs, why don't you just pass it this way? When in Rome, right?

[fledges]

[Kate grins at him, shaking his hand and then offering him the sausages. That was seamless subterfuge.]

Smooth, Mr. Benjamin. Is this a secret identity thing or a "I don't know if you're actually a murdering psychopath" thing?

[thwipandrelease]

Get used to what? Your face or the questionable food stuffs?

[because from what he can tell, there's nothing inherently weird about her. she seems normal, not celebrity status worthy, but not like midwestern librarian. man he's really gotta work on reexamining his many and sundry biases. for now though, step one's that crucial step of gathering intel.]

I've worn worse. [and at least he's not in the lederhosen and taking up yodeling lessons.]

[evite]

Sure, sure. [ she's not going to leave after a few minutes, but she'll agree to it if it means markus helps her get past the first obstacle. ] Just a few minutes. Just enough to snap some photos, give everyone some major jealousy.

[ from their vantage point across the main pathway, daisy can see the front half of the tent and its garden space outside. plenty of seating, what looks like a bar curving around one corner, and waiters dressed in luxe versions of oktoberfest-themed outfits milling about carrying trays of what she can only guess is high-end craft beer. fitting for the theme, but less so for the clientele.

she'd snuck into an open house event for a up-and-coming dermatologist's office shortly after arriving. most people had been drinking wine, expensive to craft and even more so to appropriately store given the high premiums on water and space. ]

I have an idea. [ her hand suddenly clasps with his, fingers threading together with a tight squeeze, and daisy drags him bodily through the pathway until they're just outside the tent's billowing panels. ] Follow my lead.

[ and then, as quick as anything, her whole demeanour shifts. she's still daisy, but a relaxed, confident, charismatic version of herself, with bright eyes and a charming smile as she strolls backwards through the open threshold, pulling him along and making idle conversation until her back hits (intentionally, though it looks accidental) into a waiter. his tray tumbles forward, and so too do apologies as he whirls around. ]

Stop, no, it's fine. Nothing's on my clothes, just — yours. [ a bemused hum. ] You'd better go change, I think, before somebody notices you walking around like a soggy beermat in here.

[ the waiter looks shocked, more than anything else, eyes flitting between his now beer-soaked getup and daisy's mildly amused expression. maybe he's just not used to people being nice to him in here, maybe he's too surprised by the growing sensation of wet soaking through his clothes — but for whatever reason, he simply mumbles a thank you before gesturing towards the nearest empty couch. ]

Don't mind if I do.

[ obviously, she's going to flop right onto it. ]

Coming, darling?

ii. b.

[culver]

[Though she's relieved with her own freedom, Nill has no problem popping in and out of the safehouse now and then. She likes keeping tabs on the supplies there, and also who's coming and going. She's trying her best to learn the faces of everyone here, and now that she knows there's actually a schedule for arrivals, it's easy to stop by the safehouse to check up on the newbies.

As if she herself hadn't only just arrived and is still figuring things out.

She's just finished her round of the kitchen when she decides to take stock of the medical supplies. And Nill is not at all prepared for the sight of a young man gasping on the floor. Her wings flare as she freezes where she is, mind absolutely blank for a few seconds before she gets a hold of herself. Nill stumbles forward, crouching beside him, hands hovering just above his arm. He's new, she doesn't know his name, so she can't message him on the network to ask what's happened. A moment later, she realizes he probably won't even have an ID set up yet. There are very few times when Nill has ever wished for a voice, but she'd realized very quickly that it's incredibly inconvenient to not be able to tell people her name. She's always waiting for introductions, and with the way the boy in front of her looks, there doesn't really seem to be time to wait.]

simon jarrett | SOMA

[theseuschip]

arrival

[ It’s not like being scanned and uploaded, what he’d called waking up when it was more like being teleported, and having done something to trigger it. This is like actually waking up, except without ever having slept, somehow.

The last thing Simon remembers is the error message flashing on the Launch Dome’s terminal, white against black. The cold encroaching realization that this, ending up somewhere unfamiliar like a wayward science experiment, would never happen again — that he was in the last place he’d ever see, the bottom of the infested ocean, the sole remaining sapient thing on Earth, until his battery ran down, or the WAU died and took him with it.

No digital paradise. No Catherine— and at the thought of her the sudden stab of loss, and regret, and utter unmoored helplessness is enough to needle through the cottony wall of sedation. Sort of. It’s rounded the points on the rest of the confusion and anxiety, the crawling unease over the scar on his head. What the fuck is that about?

He doesn’t feel the weight of the Power Suit; doesn’t see a robotic exoskeleton. He’s human. Not exactly like he originally was, his missing-as-of-like-six-hours-ago forearm now healed rather than a ragged stump, but still. Human. He leans against a wall and turns his remaining hand over in front of him, looking himself over to a degree that’s probably unusual for new arrivals, at stuff that their mysterious kidnappers didn’t experiment on. ]

oktoberfest

[ and then he stumbles out of the alley, trying to get his bearings, and it’s totally oktoberfest

ok

???

Simon squints at the sun. That sure is the sun, and that sure is a crowd of people, both of which were normal components of his life what seems like yesterday, but suddenly feel bizarrely foreign.

Before long, two people have given the confused, poorly-dressed amputee caveperson beers insistently enough that he takes them, for some reason?¿?, holding them in the crook of his right elbow.

When he spots someone else dressed similarly, he finally asks: ]

This can’t be it. Can it? The ARK?

[ First of all, he remembers losing the coin toss.

Second of all, Oktoberfest doesn’t seem like a very Catherine thing to implement. Those are only two of the many problems with this possibility, but it’s the only thing he can think of. ]

safehouse(1)

[ In 2104, he’d asked Catherine if it had really been just one day — this, the longest day of his life, since he woke up in Upsilon, and that moment feels like it was eons ago, which it technically was, and somebody’s been doing surgery on his fucking brain. Simon heads to the least populated place in the safehouse and yanks at his shirt to see the thing in his chest, faintly luminescent and metal-parasite blue.

He can be found pacing the bathroom looking like sweaty ass, mouth a thin line and breathing fast through his nose in the typical manner of somebody trying to squelch a panic attack the counterproductive way. ]

safehouse(2-4)

[ The communal aspect of the safehouse isn’t terrible. It’s a little like a dorm... for abductees. It's an awkward collision of his human and not-human existences, to think that this is like a dorm all while trying to get the hatch open, then pacing the medical bay and storage rooms doing mechanical visual sweeps. The sort of searching that he wishes were for something in particular and is more socially acceptable in a zombie apocalypse where none of these things belong to anyone (some of this stuff clearly does, or did, once). Nor are they subject to any social mores saying you can't just rifle through them.

He has the wherewithal to half-cross his arms, right over left, though consistently hiding, or even consistently remembering, that he’s missing half an arm takes more focus than Simon has when he’s trying to do the “piece together how I time traveled to somewhere weird and horrible” thing.

He doesn’t like that this thing in his head... exists, but it’s better than doing nothing, especially in a place with no paper media, no personal affects — even missing his wallet is disorienting, now that it should conceivably be there and he’s not in a diving suit.

So, in the kitchen (the best place to stand around messing with your phone), he starts trying to sift through the deluge of information. One might assume that the hands-free nature of neural implants would be perfect in Simon’s situation, but every so often he reflexively tries to scroll on it with his finger like it’s a touchscreen anyway.

you know what else the kitchen is good for ]

You know, this is exactly what we were afraid would happen to books in 2015.

[ striking up conversations instead of thinking about how This Shit Again and how the internet is inside you ]

wildcard

[ or something else!! feel free to hmu at honchkrow if you want a personalized starter or come at me with another thing ]

[gasping]

[ with her eyes firmly closed, she's been able to ignore the passing shadows and shapes of people milling too close for comfort; though she hasn't been totally able to ignore the sounds of footsteps and conversation, choosing instead to focus on the steady sound of her own heartbeat helps to muffle the noise.

the jacket catches her attention, though, and so caroline's head lifts, her eyes blinking as they slowly adjust to the artificial light. ]

I'm not broken. [ that much is true. she's lived through worse. the last thing she remembers of home is something much worse. at least no one is actively torturing her here. ] Just need a minute.

[ true, if not the whole story. ]

Is this your jacket?

[ does he want her to hang it up? ]

[motivation]

Didn't say you were.

[ call her honey, get kicked in the balls. that's surely a fair deal, isn't it? ]

Involuntary welcoming committee. [ but she's here now, isn't she? she cocks one hip, lips quirking up a little at his "good taste". ]

I'm Dutch. [ short for duchess, no relation to the country. ] Got the three star hotel treatment, hair cut and ride here two months ago.

[gasping]

[ i'm fine is the standard response, and caroline gives it without much thought, a reassuring smile that doesn't reach her eyes attempting to win over the words — but then, those same eyes note the flash of white extending past the teeth line, and caroline seemingly stops in her tracks.

not that she'd been moving very much, but. not the point. were those fangs? no, caroline. you're hungry, you're tired, you're seeing things. they didn't look like fangs at all. they weren't even on the right teeth. ]

I think I just need a cheeseburger or something. Potatoes are great, but a girl needs red meat.

[ or a live cow. you know, whichever. ]

[998]

[home? does this man recognize him from winterfell? he doesn't sound much like it. jon squints at him. his hair is quite a silvery-gold, which fits the descriptions of many targaryens jon's read about. but could he know about jon...? could he be the young prince who escaped stannis to the free cities..? jon tries to remember his name.]

I went to sleep on the Clock and I woke up in a wheelhouse...[accepts the second bottle of water with a grateful nod and downs it. he stands up a little straighter and turns away from the table and towards the man.] Thank you. I am in your debt. [he furrows his brow for a moment, considering.] You spoke of home, earlier. Do you know the Seven Kingdoms?

[reneger]

It's Malone. ( not junior thank you very much. though honestly--he's not that offended by it. better than black mask constantly calling him "son". as if he really wanted shit to do with that loser.

jason orders two beers--pale ales. in between dirt cheap crap and the more affordable stuff. pays for it with his implant before he's swinging back around on his heels and offering kovacs one of them and lifts the other to his own lips to take a swig of it. ) Gonna share yours?

( his hand is bare; purposefully so. he's waiting for kovacs to lean in and take it, to move his hand just enough to cause their skin to brush.

enough to activate the bond, confirm that bit if kovacs doesn't move to avoid it. )

[gasping]

[ her hands are busy, wrestling a particularly messy pot in a sink full of water. it's a nice distraction, the heat on her skin pulling her awareness down into the water rather than scanning the room, listening to everyone and no one's conversations and hearing them slam doors open and shut. she needs to eat something that's not a potato or a bug burger. that'll give her the strength to control herself, and then she can worry about everything else. but she won't be able to feed until they can leave. so for now, it's a waiting game.

riku's not the first person to ask her if she's alright, so he won't be the first person to get her standard reply. ] Yeah. [ but it's also not convincing. ]

This is a lot to get used to, isn't it?

[ a soapy hand gestures at her temple, where there's a scar hidden by blonde hair. the implant is new, and caroline does need time to get used to it, but it's not her pressing concern. ]

[evasives]

Presumably with no return service? [ they dumped him and left. he already knows the van isn't coming back, but there could be some other means even if he doubts it. he's starting at point zero, he has no building blocks except these people like beer. ]

[ he can adjust his body language on a whim and it's truly one of the most useful skills. he is not relaxed in reality, he never is, but at least he can appear so. ]

[ he does not want a drink. his grasp on himself already feels tenuous thanks to whatever sedatives they'd given him, but he won't immediately brush the offer away this time. joking as it is, a brochure implies it's indeed a very common occurrence. ] Well it is not hard to find one right now. Is it always this convenient?

[ what kind of situations do people get abandoned to, is what he's getting at. ]

[evasives]

[ cassian doesn't think he's had a toy since fest. it doesn't stop him from taking the little hoverbike anyway, if only because it's something new, and maybe a hint about what kind of vehicular technology exists. ]

Was it that obvious? [ they all look bored, even when they're trying not to look bored. there is no point in hiding it! ]

[ she's so friendly, and cassian is not above taking advantage of that. though if she's willing to be this open from the get go, it stands to reason she's here to be helpful in some capacity anyway. ] Cassian. [ he already decided to forgo a fake name. ] Do I get to ask yours? Or are you just a traveling model toy saleswoman?

[motivation]

How did you know? [ promptly, drolly. no, there's no return service. of course there's not. for a moment, dutch's lips press together, a hint of the anger at her own abduction, the experimentation, the drugs rushing back. new amsterdam isn't bad, if you ask her. as far as cities go, it's a lot nicer than some she's seen. no slavery, no badlands that dutch has seen yet, though those probably exist, no black rain as far as she can tell.

no hullen, either. it could be a nice enough place to put down roots, if she were the kind of person to do that. if she didn't have a war to fight. ]

They like big events. I was dropped at an underground rave, there was some nerd event two weeks ago, now there's you at a beer festival.

[ "oktoberfest", whatever that means. ]

[thwipandrelease]

[ah. sausages. possibly maybe cricket sausages. oh well. peter jabs at one and down the hatch it goes. chew chew chew. oh and there's the unpleasant not quite recognizable as meat flavor. sorry kate, please excuse him a minute while he discreetly hides the evidence of his displeasure in a napkin.]

Aw man. Those are terrible. [he feels the pain in kate's life now. so sorry for doubting.] What? Neither. That is my name.

[oh who does he think he's fooling? absolutely no one.] But are you a murdering psychopath?

[fledges]

[Kate, for her part, just looks smug. She warned him!]

Nope. I'm Kate Bishop, world's greatest archer. Usually. Here I'm a barista. You?

[Somewhere, Clint's ears are burning.]

[evite]

Oh, absolutely. If you could die from boredom, I'd be burying you right now.

[ there's an easygoing quality to her tone, teasing and light even amidst the dullness of the safehouse; though he doesn't invite her to, daisy drops down to join him, pulling her legs up to sit butterfly style on the cot. ]

It's Daisy. And I'm not a saleswoman, because those aren't for sale. [ she just gave it to you, cassian, did she ask you for money? ] Plus, they're pretty rough-looking. Not sure I could charge very much for them anyway.

[evasives]

[ abruptly, he thinks she might have been a drop off like him, from the peek of that anger she lets slip through. and it's confirmed for him soon after that she did indeed arrive in the same way. he lets himself frown a little, like he's mulling it all over. ]

Perhaps they think it causes less of a scene. [ suddenly he's glad for a beer festival. raves are... not his favorite. he doesn't like to be touched, and the dancing is too up close and personal. ]

[ but she looks far more settled than him, clothes less clinical, and she is familiar enough with the situation. it suggests some level of residency beyond a week or two. ] How long ago was your rave?

[evite]

Sweetheart's fine. [ for now. she doesn't particularly love petnames as a general rule but she'll give him that tiny bit of autonomy as the benevolent guide she absolutely is not. ] I'll tell you my name when you stop swearing at me.

[ it's not a demand. it's not even a request. it's just a simple fact — if he wants to learn her actual name, he'll stop being a dick. ]

You're not a very subtle thief, for the record. You could have been seen, you could have gotten caught, and then what would you have done? [ the levity in her tone drops out. ] The compulsion drugs in your system means you would have done exactly what you were told, no matter what, and without a functioning ID in your system, you would have caused major problems.

[ not a risk she's willing to accept. not after everything that's happened. ]

Come on. Follow me.

[ that's a demand. and she's going back towards the alley now, away from the sounds of revelry and drunken yodeling (why) and way too many prying eyes. ]

I'll answer your questions once we're somewhere a little quieter.