ARRIVAL LOG 012

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: A research outpost not far from New Amsterdam proper
WHEN: November 22
WHAT: The twelfth arrival
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Body horror, general horror, experimentation on animals and humans, violence, etc.

> ARRIVAL LOG #012

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. Murmuring voices saying indistinguishable words. There's fleeting memories of something else, too: an accident, and the pain that followed. Chaos, the echoing noise of gunshots overhead, and the cold sensation of your body going into shock. None of it can be grasped onto in any detail, the flashes of memory more like a fading dream than any real recollection.

When you fully awaken, you'll find your movements to be weighed down and heavy, your body struggling to respond the way that you want it to. Your hair is grown out, perhaps even past its usual length, but not maintained in any way, and you're wearing a hospital gown. The room around you is small and sparsely furnished. There's a bed, the one you woke on, along with a desk pushed against the adjacent wall, but no other distinguishing features. It feels, somehow, that you have been here for a while -- even if you can't put any of the memories together.

As soon as you leave the room, you'll find that your sense of something being very wrong is proven correct. You exit into a dark hallway. There are other doors lining said halls, most of them leading into rooms similar to the one you just left. The area you're in seems to be some sort of dormitory wing, intended for the people who work here, though for now none of those people can be found. Sometimes lights will flicker up and down the maze of halls, but the facility remains dark, and for the most part, quiet. Is it the middle of the night, or is this place completely abandoned? Soon enough you'll come across others like you: wearing only a hospital gown, confused, lost, barefoot.

Unfortunately, it turns out that you're not the only ones here. There's a loud blaring noise that rings through the halls, and somewhere in the facility, a door is unlocked and the proverbial floodgates are opened. At first it won't be clear what happened, but then you'll hear them: scrabbling claws, guttural growls, the thundering approach of creatures that want nothing more than to feed.

They might round a dark hallway and leap, claws extended, or burst out of the vents to wrap around you, fangs ready to sink in. They're twisted, grotesque creatures, but one thing that all of them have in common is their golden glow and eyes. It will take smarts, strength, or speed to survive. Killing them is an option, but without any weapons or your usual powers, it might not be as simple of a task as it once was. Running and hiding is an option, too. There is a new power you've been granted — maybe the stress of the situation will allow you to discover it sooner rather than later. Or maybe with enough teamwork, you can all find a way out.

But don't worry: help is on the way.

> INTO THE WOODS

Instead of the usual head's up from El, the Displaced receive a very different kind of message to tell them of a batch of newcomers who need their assistance:

@100342
Well, well, well, I'll save the trivial "nice to see you again" for later, as it's time to put yourselves together and go. Funny story, a bunch of your pals have been located somewhere outside the city. I know what you're going to ask: How do I know? Let's just say I have some access to points that usually lay beneath the radar to keep it friendly.
Since I was feeling generous, I left you a gift to bring them back. The best part is that you don't have to drive, the worst part is that if you miss it, it'll be gone and you'll be SOL.
Don't be late, or there won't be much to salvage.

Along with the message, all of the Displaced will receive a GPS pin and a warning that they're on the clock. They'll need to reach their destination before 1900 hours or they'll be left behind, and when they arrive at the place in question, they'll see why. It's a boarded-up entrance to a subway station, one that seems to have been out of commission for some time now. Once they break their way in and walk down the stairs into the abandoned station, they'll find that there's a train waiting for them.

How did it get here when most of the public transit is still down? How is it functional? Why hasn't anyone noticed this on a map before? Who knows, but the Displaced will be able to board, and as soon as it hits 1900 hours the train will shudder into movement. There are no announcements to let them know where it's going, so they'll simply have to wait it out.

As it turns out, the train takes them all the way out of the city. When it reaches the city gates, it's let through with no incident, and then it continues on its journey, winding a path through the wooded area that at least a few of the Displaced have explored before. When it finally comes to a stop about an hour and a half later, they'll be let off at an outpost. They're miles out of the city now, too far to easily walk back, and before them lies an unmarked building. On top of that, the train keeps going without them. For the moment, everyone's stranded.

They'll be able to get inside the building with little trouble, as it's from this research outpost that the new set of Displaced will need to be collected. By the time that they arrive it's late into the night so it might not be surprising that the place feels abandoned, but it won't take long to realize there's a commotion. A pack of genetically altered animals have been unleashed on the Displaced who woke up here, so they'll need to help everyone get out in one piece and then figure out a way back to the city.

Some notes about the research lab and these monsters:

◉ The building is six stories tall. The first floor has a lobby/waiting area, a cafeteria, and some office spaces. The second floor is the dormitory floor, which is where the employees would usually sleep if they chose to stay at the facility while working rather than returning to the city in between shifts. This is where the new arrivals woke up. Floors three through five are dedicated to lab spaces, which is where the actual research work is usually done. Most of these laboratories are going to be locked, but that won't stop Displaced from breaking into them if they want. Some of the lab rooms also have exam rooms, rooms with gurneys, stacked and locked cages (some even holding sedated monsters), and other evidence that both people and animals were being experimented on here. Displaced will be able to swipe lab equipment and medical supplies, such as syringes, vials/beakers, first aid supplies, scalpels, bandages, multi-lens microscopes, etc. The top floor is dedicated to offices for higher-ranked scientists, so think of it as the C suite. All floors also have bathrooms, of course, and the dormitory wing also has showers.

There are also a few rooms which might be of interest to the Displaced. These will all be locked tight and will have to be opened through brute force, as they won't respond to any of the Displaced's implants. Of course, a locked door doesn't always mean that there's no way through, especially for this bunch — breaking the locking mechanism, brute force, or even finding a control mechanism are some ways the Displaced can get inside. As for what's beyond these doors:

◈ An operating room. It's clean and emptied out, but the consoles, surgical tools, and lighting make it obvious that surgeries are performed here.
◈ A room that holds in-progress experimental subjects. Some of the animals look almost normal, while others are further along in their mutations, but all of them are sedated and either held suspended in fluid pods or kept in cages. It's possible they could be woken up with enough effort, but why would you?
◈ A morgue. This is where all of the discarded animals and yes, even scientists are kept. It's essentially a dumping ground for failed experiments. The corpses are in sliding drawers as you would expect from any morgue, but opening these drawers will reveal disturbing monstrosities. Some of them are humans, but only barely recognizable given that they've been ripped limb from limb. Others are various animals twisted into impossible positions, or with added appendages/defects. These are experiments where the mutations didn't enhance them, but made it so they could no longer survive.

◉ The monsters who are attacking have the same golden glow and eyes that some of the Displaced have already seen, but they are not the same ones. They look like different kinds of animals that have been spliced with monster DNA, and that DNA has warped them into different forms. Here are a few examples of the monsters, though you are also welcome to come up with other types based off of what we've already outlined:

◈ A large snake, except that it also has four small legs (two near the front of its body, two near the back) which allow it to skitter around rather than slither, making it much faster than any snake has a right to be. It's large and strong enough to strangle its victim, making it difficult to remove by a single person. Don't let it unhinge its jaw, it's got way too many teeth.
◈ A hyena-creature with impressive amounts of agility, due to the fact that it seems like almost all of its joints are double-jointed. It can turn its head almost completely around as well, making it an extremely skilled hunter. Its fangs protrude from the top of its mouth in rows of three like a shark. Even if it's disemboweled or it loses a limb, this creature will still continue to attack in a frenzy.
◈ A stag beetle, except that it's the size of a medium-sized dog. It's still able to fly and its pincers can do damage if it's allowed to get too close. Worse than that, they tend to move in swarms of three or four. Beneath the hard shell are human-like eyes with dilated pupils that follow shadows and light.
◈ A humanoid creature that stands on two legs. Its eyes glow in the dark, catching bits of light from a distance. Upon closer inspection, the creature has snake-scale skin, a long, flickering tail, and claws for hands. These scales are incandescent in nature, shimmering whenever they're underneath enough light.
◈ A sloth-like mimic that cries from a distance for help from hidden, high places. Once it hears a voice, it can mimic it, drawing someone in toward it due to it sounding like another Displaced. Getting too close will leave them within reach of the creature that's all arms and little else, leaving a toxic and poisonous trap to weaken its prey. Its hiding places include the rafters, where it may drop on those looking for their friends. Under certain lights, the slothly creature's eyes are humanoid in appearance, sharp and aware — yet still gold.
◈ Humanoid creatures that give off a thick, putrid smell of decay. Not unlike zombies, they move sluggishly, but upon closer inspection, it appears that something is off about these people. They have claws, sharp rows of teeth, and skin that flakes off with every shuffle of their feet. Potentially some early or later stage experiment of the snake-skinned humanoids. They're highly aggressive and will follow someone with the intention of attacking until they're incapacitated.
◈ A cross-breed insect that looks like a mix of a wasp and a mosquito, but is only the size of a dime. Its sting can draw out a large amount of blood, sedating the individual. The toxin that they inject will leave large, red welts, depending on the efficiency of the immune system. They're blotchy and painful. Once they have found a target, they will swarm around that individual all at once.
◈ A naked creature resembling a dog with a reptile's body, with patches of hair. This creature has long rows of crooked fangs protruding from its lips, mouth and tongue, with a large, dilated eye. It has sharp scales on its back to keep it from being touched, but it has a thirst for blood. This creature will attempt to surprise its prey from around corners, jumping onto someone's shoulders with hopes of sticking to them and drawing blood like a reptilian tick.

◉ These monsters will move through the vents in the building and up and down the stairwells, but they can be killed like any other creature. Or hidden from, if you want to go cry in a bathroom stall or something.

Once the newbies have been collected and taken outside, the Displaced will have to decide if they want to try and get back to New Amsterdam on foot or wait to see if a train arrives back at the stop. The train will return 24 hours after it originally dropped the Displaced off to return everyone to the city, though they won't get any indication of that other than a cryptic hint from Cassius.

Have fun camping, hiking, waiting it out in the building barricaded somewhere, or whatever else you decide to do!

A final note for characters who have been in Meadowlark from the first arrival log (Bobbi Morse, Clarke Griffin, Kylo Ren, Loki, Ojiro Sniper, Rey, Stephen Strange): You are free to have your character recognize any of the newcomers as having been on the bus crash during that first log, if you want! Have these characters been kept in this facility all this time?

For new characters, all of your characters were "present" during the very first log, but either injured to the point that they couldn't trail after the first bunch to the safehouse, or killed during the initial crash and resulting fire fight. We'll leave whichever it is up to you, though your character will not remember the circumstances beyond the vague recollections alluded to at the start of this log. For now, all signs point to them being in captivity after that first crash was cleaned up and swept under the rug.

> NEW AMSTERDAM

Eventually, the Displaced will all make it back into the city one way or another. What the newcomers will find is a city that is very much in recovery mode. There was a recent disaster that has left the city badly damaged and killed people in the hundreds of thousands. For their first few days the new characters will be confined to the safehouse (more on that below), but after that they'll be let out to explore the city as they wish.

◉ Relief efforts. Given that the city is still trying to rebuild and will be for some time, many of the Displaced have already thrown themselves into helping, whether through their normal jobs or by pitching in with the relief organization called PRESERVE. Everyone can pitch in with delivering supplies, escorting people who've lost their homes to relief centers, furnishing and repairing shelters, and so on. Unfortunately, only a few trains are in working order, so getting around is going to be more difficult than it would be normally. Hope you don't mind walking!

◉ Golden-eyed animals. While they're not like the monsters in the research outpost, there will be animals with golden eyes who've somehow found their way into the city. This is noteworthy given that animals are very rarely seen in a megacity. They're not aggressive, and if anything they seem sickly. Some of them look like strange chimeras, like two or three different animals mashed together. Others have too many limbs or eyes. Either way, they will die within a few days of arriving, so it's also possible to stumble on strange corpses scattered around.

◉ All Star game. It's not all doom and gloom, thankfully. The city is trying its best to pull itself up by its bootstraps and carry on despite all the tragedies, which means that the annual soccer All Star Game is still on. Near the sports stadium there will be stalls selling food and merchandise, bands performing, and so on. It's not a full-blown festival the likes of which New Amsterdam is known for, but it is a place to swing by if anyone needs a break.

Please refer to the Setting and Locations posts for more ideas of what the city has to offer, and you can also check out the Aftermath Post from the last event and the July Calendar if you want a better idea of what's going on in New Amsterdam!

> SAFEHOUSE

Located under an abandoned hover-bike garage, access to the safehouse is a hatch in the floor beside a rusted set of metal shelves that used to hold tools and supplies. The immediate area is similarly abandoned: full of rundown and dilapidated warehouses and forgotten businesses, where numerous people squat in hopes of having some stability because they can't afford a place themselves.

◉ The safehouse is a large space with multiple rooms for storage, with the largest of the rooms 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.

◉ There is a mini-bar set up in the kitchen. The quality of the alcohol inside is akin to what someone might get from the well, but it's well-stocked.

◉ It can be assumed that new arrivals will be told that any requests or queries can go through El for the time being; Gaby is currently not available.

◉ New characters will be given rudimentary access to the network upon arrival in the safehouse, whether they had their ID set up by Cassius or they still need it set up by El. They will be able to make posts and replies, but their messages will be anonymous and they do not have inboxes yet. El will restrict widespread internet access while ze reviews everyone's preset backgrounds or reviews what's already in place. Once El has set up IDs — or revised/retained Cassius's work, the newbies will be free to go. See the comment below to learn more about this!

◉ New characters will not be allowed to leave the safehouse until NOVEMBER 26 (JULY 21). 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 — or review the ID that was set up by Cassius. We have another option for IDs this log which will be explained in a comment below; it's opt-in!

> FINAL OOC NOTES

Welcome to Meadowlark, newbies! You're now free to post to the network and logs comms. To reiterate, your characters will not be allowed out of the safehouse until NOVEMBER 26 (JULY 21). 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 had job potentials reviewed with El in order for their false IDs to be set up.

If you would like your character to have a wildly inappropriate background or incredibly unique setup by Cassius, please comment to the background review below! Since Cassius has a different set of accesses and resources available, he'll be able to provide a different path for your character. This background does not need to be accurate to your characters' skill set — in fact, it's more likely that it wouldn't because Cassius is a troll that way. El will try to revise it into working order, but ze can only do so much.

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 July 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 July 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 August 1 at 12 AM UTC and close on August 8 at 12 AM UTC. 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

[hierophante]

That's easy enough to accept, even if she can't grasp the particulars of what that means, a god trying to take over a world. She doesn't have to know what that looks like to believe it must be some kind of true. It does raise other questions, though.

"I met a man earlier, in the building, who talked about monsters. Like he was familiar, like he'd encountered them before, before this place. I wonder if that's true of all of us, that we've all experienced something... uncanny, even before we came here." It would be a tantalizing clue, a possible hint as to why they've all been gathered here.

"Or maybe that's looking too hard for a connection when there's a more obvious one right in front of us, I don't know. We're all here. Maybe trying to find areas of commonality would only obfuscate the real point." OA looks... wistful. She misses certainty. She has faith -- in herself, in the others, in the infinite and wonderful strangeness of the multiverse -- but she misses having a sense of where that faith fit in the world. "Though it makes us less alone."

[deicider]

Sniper is visibly pleased by this observation, nodding along. "No, I don't know what it is specifically, but there's a really high concentration of Displaced who seem like they were very important to their world, or at least very active in it."

Coincidences aside, Sniper couldn't believe their presence here was an accident. Gods, angels, god killers, professional soldiers, professional heroes. Why them? Why now, at such a critical point in the world's history? They could admit to reading too much of Mycroft's portentous writing, but the questions their old friend had raised about the confluence of factors that had sparked the end of an era stuck in their mind.

"It's been hard to suss out, people have been pretty tight-lipped about what they were doing before they got here." Here Sniper's nose wrinkles; it's an old pet peeve. Once they're guilty of, too, but assassin wasn't a word they wanted to throw around with this bunch. The facts of their skill were there for anyone to see—A killer could always smell another killer, as they liked to say, and they were surely not the only one in this bunch.

[hierophante]

"I'm not sure I can blame them," OA says, her voice soft, gentled by sympathy. "It seems like we're all far enough from home that our stories are all we still own."

Lots of things in life seem to center around that, around agency, ownership, control. Power. The desire for or exertion of any of them isn't inherently corrupting, depending on the aim, but it is very human. All of them are just carving out their own space, finding a way to be in the world.

"I probably shouldn't be telling you half of the things I have been either, I just... I feel like maybe it's essential to understanding why I'm here." And, perhaps, the sooner she figures that out, the sooner she can leave, continue her quest to get back to the others. If not... if not, there has to be a purpose to it, and understanding that would at least bring her some comfort.

"But it makes sense. If you want to create ripples, you look for stones, and it's got to be better if they already have practice. Though I don't know that I can claim to have been important, or even active. I didn't see much of my world. When I saw at all, I mostly saw underneath it."

[deicider]

Listening to the OA is so strange. Attentive to her meaning, an apt mind for metaphor. Like Jehovah. Sniper really needs to stop making these associations or they were going to go as mad as Mycroft, who wandered around having conversations with the ghosts he mourned.

Still, her line about stories settles uneasily in their mind. Sniper had felt the opposite this whole time—like they had been ripped from their story, prevented from fulfilling the end they had earned for the work of their life. Although Sniper sought meaning in why they had been brought to this world, they couldn't really think of any of this as a part of them. .

"We don't have to talk about it more," Sniper assures, smoothly taking the out despite the lure of that last detail. "I was just glad to hear someone with the same theory. Has anyone told you what touching does yet?"

[hierophante]

OA shakes her head. "I don't mind. It's less for me to carry on my own; I'm grateful. But... I know it's foolhardy, saying too much."

That has nothing to do with Sniper specifically. OA thinks she can trust them as far as anyone here, maybe more: she remembers that bright watchfulness, that strange hope that had come over their face when they'd asked about the meaning of her name. She wants to believe the best of these people, believe that they're all moving towards some shared resolution, some shared purpose. She's also not that naïve. The last time she'd trusted someone absolutely uncritically, it turned out to be the biggest mistake she'd ever made.

She gives a little gesture of the hand -- never mind, my problem, not yours.

"No, though, no one's told me. I know it does something. I wasn't sure it was touch, exactly, but that was when it happened. One of the others touched my arm and..." She shakes her head. "I felt... strange, but I didn't have much time to think about how or why."

Her hand dips through the part in the coat and her fingers find the patch of hospital gown just above her sternum. "I remember there was a light. What is that thing?"

[deicider]

Sniper waggles their fingers demonstrably, but doesn't make any move toward her. Normally they'd push a bit: Sniper was always eager for the experience of another mind. All their life Sniper had learned to read people in order to better fit to their desires. They were good at it, but feeling the real thing, all the fragile, fluctuating complexity and illogical connections, was breathtaking. Like the difference of admiring a painting of a spring and plunging your sun-warmed hands in its cool water.

The experience of a calm mind might have been helpful for her, but Sniper wasn't very calm right now. While they talk, Sniper retains a slice of focus to slow their heartbeat down. An easy trick for a sniper.

"When you touch bare skin with another one of us, you can feel what they feel—Their emotions. You'll see that glow under a few different circumstances. You'll have some new power, too, and it'll glow when you use it."

[hierophante]

OA's gaze flicks to Sniper's fingers at that little wiggle; she looks -- feels -- a little ill-at-ease. The fact that it feels more like an invitation than a request is appreciated, at least, but... contact is a complicated prospect.

"I don't like being touched," she says flatly, quickly, more as a reflex than anything. She turns ever so slightly to one side, the hand at her sternum dipping further beneath the coat, as though to hide. It's not quite a true statement, but explaining the reality of it is a difficult prospect, one which might ironically be reconciled if she simply takes the invitation. That's always the way of things, isn't it? To grow is to fight gravity.

She presses her lips together in quiet determination, looking back up to meet Sniper's gaze. They've been frank so far. Understanding. OA wants to understand, grasp it, feel out the rules of this place, its boundaries. Curiosity is as essential as breathing. Without it, she's still back in that cage.

Slowly, cautiously, she retrieves her hand from the coat and extends it towards Sniper. It hovers in space between them, palm up, fingers ever so gently curled upwards. In memory, she presses her fingers against glass, spread to match Homer's on the other side. Almost. Only ever almost.

"It's okay," she says, nodding down at her outstretched hand. "If you want. And... I don't know what that means, power."

There had been something, but it hadn't made any sense to her. It all happened too quickly for comprehension.

[deicider]

Well. Sniper's not going to say no if that's her choice, especially given her push past her own reservations. Sniper stalls for a bit to get their head in order, stripping their glove off. "The power is different for everyone, but it will be something that suits you. We can find someone to give you a demonstration later; mine's not one I can show off very easily."

Because Sniper's power suited them, it didn't insult a lifetime of discipline and training as the most dangerous weapon in the world by rendering those skills impractical. It was subtle and supportive, allowing them to fight through their wounds. Under different circumstances Sniper would be delighted, but in the context of being kidnapped it mostly made them feel surly: what right did this in them have to that kind of intimacy with them?

Their mind is as clear as it's going to get, so Sniper reaches out their own hand, cupping the bottom of OA's hand rather than grabbing it. Their hand is well-calloused but well cared for; textured, but not rough. The surge of empathy is immediate with the blue glow: Sniper's eager interest, frayed by anxiety, restrained and made remote by oppressive focus as they try and maintain calm, so as not to overwhelm her.

[hierophante]

Outwardly, OA remains more or less impassive, looking down at her own upturned palm. Inwardly, she ebbs and flows; a shifting current of emotions runs inexorably through her. The mere fact of touch brings turmoil: an initial flicker of panic is suppressed into discomfiture, bleeds into an almost dissociative surreality, bleeds into an old hurt. Undercutting it all is an intense relief, fluttering, a little giddy -- almost nauseous. It's the real answer, the one she hadn't put to words: it isn't that she doesn't like being touched. It's that she's been touch-starved for so long that every time she encounters it anew, it's a revelation.

The hooks catch. Sniper's interest blends with her own unshakeable curiosity; their gnawing anxiety finds its place alongside her own, dulled by distance and shock and the steely control OA exerts over herself. Her volatility is something she's never been able to restrain; she feels what she feels. There's no stopping that. She's an expert, though, at redirecting it.

Thence the soft blossom of wonder. This kind of intimacy is terrifying, but miraculous too. It tugs at other lines: the briefest flash of anger, a tickle of gratitude, a warm flush of affection. The low notes of a latent, existential dread thrumming impatiently beneath it all, a constant companion.

Slowly, without breaking contact, OA turns her hand over, fingers curling loosely about Sniper's hand. Her skin is dry, a little rough with wear -- not as heavily-calloused as Sniper's own, but nonetheless the hands of someone who has used them. Gently, she squeezes their hand; a blanket of calm settles over her like snow, that endless emotional flux still whirling just tangibly beneath it.

"At least there's this," she says simply. That affection again; an almost beatific glow of sympathy. "At least we're not alone."

[deicider]

Alone. Dosed with that sense of affection and calm, the word catches them raw. Still they don't flinch away from the connection, their fingers tightening in response: they want what she says to be true, rather than the anxiety and isolation they had resolutely tried to ignore, vivid now with the reminder. That darker emotion, aching loneliness and bewilderment, bleeds into the pleasant accord between them.

"Sorry." They're not embarrassed, exactly—Not a lot, and not about the emotions themselves. They're not managing to be the calm one at all, not when her reaction is so overwhelming—so welcome. Why did Sniper have to keep running into weirdos like this? Nevermind so much had felt so easy and understandable between them, including fascination with the bond itself (nevermind, too, that they started nosing into OA's business, greedy for this exact sort of strangeness, which is why they had started nosing into Jehovah's.).

[hierophante]

"No." OA gives a gentle shake of the head. "It's okay."

She means it. It's all okay. It's all human. There, again, an intense relief: sometimes, as a younger woman, she'd suspected it was only her, that she was the only one who felt these uncontrollable things. She knows better now, but still, to have some kind of proof that this is something she shares with at least one other person is... her universe resettles around it. It has taken a different shape.

"I think... I think it can't be fought. I think it's how we are." The only times OA has been truly numb have been the times she's been closest to death -- on the verge of it, absorbed in it, remembering it. That horrible, wonderful serenity lives in her memory. To live, then, is to feel, to shift, to change. Everyone she's ever met has been doing all of those things all the time, no matter how hard they try not to. Knowing that, how can she feel anything in response to Sniper's turmoil but the ache of tenderness?

It's possible to care for almost anyone, knowing that everyone suffers. One needs simply remind oneself. Love is a talent that takes work. This thing, this empathy bond, whatever it is -- it cuts some of that effort away.

The abyss of that loneliness yawns between them; OA's brow furrows in sympathy. It tugs at her own. Loneliness, isolation, grief, loss. Hers is a specific absence. It has names and faces, the shapes of people who should be here and are not. Becoming aware of that absence, she feels it all the more acutely, but she also feels its cause: she wouldn't miss them so terribly if she didn't love them so much.

"The most we can do is forgive it." That's how she finds stillness.

[deicider]

Forgiveness is not a concept that has much of a place for Sniper, practically speaking. They don't have anything against it; it just doesn't have much to do with them: no place in their story. Sniper would get rid of the god inside of them in whatever way presented itself as the most practical. It was sad, but far down on the list of things Sniper had to be sad about.

Smiling, they break the connection of the touch. Despite all the turmoil, the bond leaves a pleasant, glowing impression. Something different from Sniper's own mind; a needed escape.

"Do you have anything else you want to ask me right now?"

[hierophante]

The severance of that connection is both a relief and a loss; OA runs her fingertips over her palm absently, replacing Sniper's touch with her own. The world is smaller again. No, not smaller -- it's as it ever was. It's OA herself who has shrunk, has gone, in a way, blind. Again.

The question snaps her out of her musing; she considers her answer a long few seconds. There are, of course, questions. A nearly endless procession of them. The right now is a fair qualifier, though, and ultimately nothing feels any more urgent than anything else. She already has a lot to consider, besides.

OA gives her head a gentle shake and then, after a moment's hesitation, she shoulders out of Sniper's coat, offering it back.

"It's okay. I'll be okay. Here; I'm sure someone else needs this more than I do. I'm used to being cold." Those last few years down in the dark, her clothing had become even flimsier than this hospital gown -- worn, full of holes, really only slightly less drafty. This is survivable.

She hesitates, takes a breath. "Actually, yes. When we... get where we're going, if we get where we're going, will I see you again?"

[deicider]

Sniper makes no move to take the coat, shaking their head. "I won't be offended if you give it to someone else. Keep it until then." Abstractly, Sniper appreciates a caring and self-sacrificing nature, but those type were horrible at taking care of themselves. OA seemed better at survival than most, but a certain about of pushiness was required to make sure that type didn't die of their own good nature.

OA's final question is curious, mostly for the serious way she asks it. "We'll get there. I don't live at the Safehouse, but I'll be around, and checking in." Jehovah would like OA, and want to talk to her. It wasn't a reason to look after her but it didn't directly contradict anything Sniper was supposed to be doing, and they were sorely lacking in personal amusement in this world. "And you can call me, if you need any help settling in."