ARRIVAL LOG 22

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: May 7 - 11
WHAT: The twenty-second arrival
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy, references to rebellion and world upheaval. Further notes at the end of log.

> ARRIVAL LOG #022

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 two people in front of you: one dressed in a thick set of armor, while the other wears medical garb. Out the windshield in front, there are many tall buildings—all reaching up beyond a normal city skyline, all entirely too close to the vehicle itself. But more than that, many of those buildings are covered in green.

You realize there are others next to you: all dressed the same way as you, you'll come to realize: in overalls of varying colors, all with heavy-duty gloves on. To your left there's an armored interior door, two more people visible, and 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 eventually lowers to the ground and turns off with a low whirr. 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 the air outside feels full of moisture. Soon enough, you realize it's lightly raining. The guard says nothing, head bowed as he lines you up with the rest. The nurse helps the others out, checking over each passenger one by one.

The main guard turns to address your entire group, and something about her bearing makes it clear she's done this before. "I'll be quick. Listen up." Your body will come to attention, immediately homing in on the words that follow, as if compelled to hang on every word. "You see those tents set up over there? You're going to head over there and help out with the work they're doing. Don't hurt anyone, don't look for any assistance from any police officers, and don't run off. Wait until people come and find you, and when they do, ask them to show you the glow."

The guard will hop back into the van, which will rise off of the ground and head back the way it came, turning the corner of a building that you now realize is covered in winding plants and vines. Once it's gone, you'll find your legs moving almost without your permission, guiding you to follow the steps the guard laid out.

Once you get to the tents, you'll see that there is a congregation of people, all dressed in clothes that they're ready to work in. Many of them are covered in grass stains, their faces bearing that sheen that comes with manual labor. The ones that are under the shade of the tents seem to be taking a break, but many others are in the area, hard to work. They assume that you're here to help pitch in with cutting back the sheer number of plants that have overgrown and consumed the city, and they hand you a pair of shears and a bucket so that you can get to work. Time to get pruning!

◉ 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 – and that includes the message passed on from the mysterious patron.

> HEDGE-CLIPPING

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.

Here we go again. We've got another batch of newbies, who've been dropped off at one of the landscaping work stations for getting all these plants under control. Follow the coordinates and you should find them in that general area. They're wearing overalls, if that narrows it down. I don't think many people wear overalls in 2512.

The coordinates will lead the current Displaced to the heart of New Amsterdam, near to one of the many green spaces in the city. Unsurprisingly, this is an area where the overabundance of plants growing at a massive rate has caused the most issue. Businesses, especially smaller ones like restaurants and boutiques, have been impacted by the plants. It's not just the outsides of buildings that are overgrown, either; inside, plumbing is completely clogged up as the foliage spills out of sinks, toilets, and anywhere else it can find a way in.

Green Thumbs, which is a local landscaping company that's seen an influx of business in the last six months thanks to the strange overgrowth of plant life in the city, has stepped up to help with this problem and has recruited the newly arrived Displaced to their cause, if unwittingly. Anyone who comes by one of their stations (including the veteran Displaced coming to collect the newbies) is likely to get roped into helping, as this is quite the undertaking and they need all the hands they can get. Don't worry—as long as you have a registered ID, you can get paid today.

The work itself isn't too complicated. Cut away plants, yank them out of drains, and put all everything that's harvested into buckets to return to the tents to drop off for later use in composting. While most of what's growing are flowers and weeds, there are areas where vegetables have sprouted too. Those will obviously want to be saved, and there will be crates set out to collect all of it. At the tents they'll also be offering some snacks and plenty of water to keep people energized and hydrated during the work. Everything from parks to bakeries to gift shops are going to need help here, and while the amount of work feels like it's neverending, it is important. Life can't return to normal until this is done.

While there will be time for both new arrivals and the rest of the Displaced to pitch in, eventually the newcomers will be escorted back to the safehouse for processing.

> AROUND THE CITY

MEDIA COVERAGE AND ONLINE CHATTER
New Amsterdam has come to life again following Judas' simulation, but the energy of the city has changed. After so many tragedies and disasters, it’s as though everyone is half-expecting the next one to strike while still reeling from the last. Some are dealing with this by throwing themselves into charity work or laying low, but others have been radicalized into thoughts of taking down the United Nations altogether. Morningstar is garnering more and more support, and though it’s technically illegal, their symbol is being grafitti’d and pasted all over town. The overworked police can’t manage to keep up, so some of them stay, a clear sign of the shifting opinions of the people.

The focus of every nearly source of news, from serious mainstream media to pop culture commentary, is still the simulation that recently overtook New Amsterdam. New characters won’t be able to access this information until their IDs are set up, but once they can, it’s a deluge of news reports, opinion pieces, and conspiracy theory websites.

There are solemn specials memorializing those who died in the simulation, or pieces discussing the long term effects on survivors and the city as a whole, focusing on New Amsterdam’s charity efforts. Talking heads, from pundits to scientists to various authority figures, are brought on panels to discuss and sometimes heatedly debate what happened and why it all seemed to go so wrong. Of particular focus and concern is New Amsterdam Governor Lydia Gill-Jade's choice to step down, electoral candidate Jovavich’s death, and the upcoming emergency election. Now that so many UNA soldiers have been decommissioned and weapons contracts dropped, economic concerns are rearing their head, too.

It might be a breath of fresh air for some citizens when they realize that this time, the mainstream media’s reaction to the United Nations' involvement is decidedly negative. There isn’t so much undue praise, and both interviewers and interviewees are starting to ask hard questions about how, exactly, the United Nations screwed this up so badly. More than a few are blaming the current situation on the United Nations completely.

And, of course, the AI Judas is still missing. The fear over this is palpable, and no news channel or website is going to let anyone forget it, or go long without mentioning it. It’s clear the United Nations is in the middle of a damage control campaign, sending their most media-ready members to explain why they didn’t do more and why their hands were tied. It’s all very polished and precise.

On social media, the shift towards criticizing the United Nations is much more open and less measured. It isn’t hard to find discussions tearing apart the UN’s excuses and even mocking them. With UNA soldiers returning home, there are more than a few stories of friends or family members noticing a huge shift in the former soldiers’ personalities, and their clear struggle to reintegrate into a civilian lifestyle. People are getting angry, and admitting you still support the United Nations is a great way to start a very long argument.

As for Morningstar, now that they’re in the odd position of being considered by most to be a political party opposing the UNA, they’re getting more media attention than ever before. The shift is clear—Morningstar’s opinions and ideas have value now, and they aren’t shy about challenging the United Nations' official position on what happened in New Amsterdam.

Another source of constant gossip is the Displaced. Now that they’ve been partially outed, everyone is trying to figure out just what their deal is. Some people clearly view them as heroes, while others aren’t so sure. Are they rogue UNA experiments? Dimension hoppers? Superheroes? Aliens? No one knows the truth, and so theories abound, some of them utterly ridiculous. There are more measured articles and reports too, but the tabloids are the ones running the scoops that are more out there (and, honestly, more fun).

MEDIA COMMUNITY RESPONSE
While talk is all well and good following such a widespread event as the simulation, taking action is far more important. While efforts to handle the overgrowth of plant life continues, there are other needs that need to be met too. Everyone came out of the simulation feeling malnourished, so all throughout the city food drives are being set up to make sure that the less fortunate and destitute get the sustenance they need to get back on their feet.

On top of that, there will also be an emphasis on redistributing all of the food which grew in excess while everyone was in the sim, to make sure that it's spread around to everyone who needs it.

Displaced will be encouraged to participate and help out with this (whether it's through cooking, plating/serving food, etc.) by the people they know through their community -- whether it's coworkers, members of Morningstar (including Gaby), or any other non-Displaced acquaintances that they have.

As public opinion toward the UNA is souring, there is a belief that people need to learn how to be self-sufficient, which is something that Morningstar in particular decides to capitalize on. If they can't rely on the UNA or on the corporations which are known to be corrupt and incetuous, and if the upcoming emergency election is likely to just give everyone more of the same, then they'll just have to figure things out on their own.

Therefore, Morningstar heads up a number of community events, classes, and drives to move toward this goal. This is a less direct form of rebellion than targeting the UNA or any of the big corporations directly, and while Morningstar has plans for that in the works too, they have always been a group that knows how to engage with the common people and make them feel seen and heard. Want to know how to grow and cook your own food? Have you heard what composting is, but don't really know what it's about? There's classes for all that, and more, including how to give haircuts and mend your own clothing. Those who are practiced in these things will also be offering these services to anyone who needs them.

Whether the Displaced are curious to learn, want to offer a class of their own (or at least help teach one), or want to take advantage of any of the services being offered, they'll be welcome. Morningstar agents will find them at the safehouse or Red Wings and encourage them to participate.

> 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. Gaby will be around, ready to greet as many of the new arrivals as she can and get them settled in. Brusque and no-nonsense, she'll be open to questions, but will advise the newcomers to ask the people who brought them in for the beginning bits of information. Newbies can also contact El through zeir inbox, if needed.

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 number 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. For anyone in need of them, Gaby will offer up partitions that will come out of storage. Tucked away in a corner is a VR system, though newcomers won't be able to access this until their ID has been set up. Even with the newly erected partitions in the sleeping areas, 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 at a bar, but it's well-stocked.

◉ While the kitchen has basic foods and necessities, anyone looking for a jolt of caffeine from coffee or tea will find themselves sorely lacking. The only tea present is herbal in nature, and caffeine appears to be almost nonexistent in most of the beverages lying around.

◉ Gaby will make it clear to all new arrivals that if they have any requests or queries, they should contact her or El. Either she or El will explain that they've been given a modest stipend of credits to help them get by until they can find a job. This will be enough to cover their living expenses for about a month while they hang out in the safehouse, if they're careful with budgeting.

◉ 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 do not have access to the internet until their ID is setup. They only have limited access because they're present in the safehouse, but they can't surf the rest of the internet, check out Cooltalk, or watch the equivalent of Netflix until their ID is made.

◉ New characters cannot leave the safehouse at this time. The hatch is locked tight for them, making it impossible for them to get out for the next four days while they're locked inside. There won't be any immediately obvious ways to cut their way out through turning off the power.

◉ New characters will not be allowed to leave the safehouse until MAY 11 (JUNE 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.

> FINAL OOC NOTES

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 MAY 11 (JUNE 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 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, 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 June calendar rundown for a look at things happening this month, as well as some additional notes from the mods.

AC remains halved this month due to the state of the world right now. New players will only need to provide at least five comments across two-four (2-4) threads, while older players will only need to provide ten comments across two-four (2-4) threads. Please let us know if you have any questions about this!

> NAVIGATION

Comments

QUESTIONS

[larkers]

gaby (ota)

[vns]

[ Gaby's return to the safehouse will be around when the first of the newcomers are brought back. she hasn't been around much since the simulation ended, though it's hard to say if that's because of trauma from the simulation, because of Morningstar activities, or anything else.

she seems focused, taking inventory, and testing to ensure that water goes down the drains just fine in the safehouse.

she may need some help with that last one. she brings out a droid device designed to go down pipes and clear out any roots that have gotten in. when she spots someone eyeing her, she looks and motions them over. ]

You can ask your questions while you keep an eye on this. Sometimes it doesn't come back up.

[ which is part of why Rey had to help Riverstone with improvements on very similar devices a couple of months back. looks like the safehouse didn't get (or couldn't afford? hard to say) an upgraded model. ]

[chocolateries]

Okay.

[ silena shrugs, unconcerned with being put to work. it is only fair since she is going to ask gaby stuff she might not want to talk about and also! cleaning out the pipes will help silena in the long run -- if she is going to stress clean the bathrooms then she doesn't want water spitting back up and ruining all her good, clean work.

she does reach out to pat what seems like the droid's head, an easy smile. she spent enough time in cabin nine to have an affection for little machines. ]

My boyfriend Charlie used to build me automaton doves to bring loves notes and twix to my window.

[filloryfanatic]

[Quentin knew that Gaby was in the simulation and only saw her from a distance, since they were all doing their own thing and had plenty going on. He hesitates when he sees her, having just brought someone new into the safehouse, but there seems to be a problem of some kind. And well, he worries. About everyone. Always.]

Hey. [He does exactly what she asks, frowning. He observes her out of the corner of his eye.] I just brought someone new in, they showed up out there doing hedge-clippings.

Glimmer (ota)

[sparklequeen]

1. Work, work

Glimmer is confused and disoriented, unsure of just what's happened or how. She had been stuck on Horde Prime's ship, held captive for the later use of the Heart of Etheria, or so she assumed. The fact that all she feels she can do is wait and listen is redoubled by the sensation of odd compliance that's settled over her. Her coveralls, colored a faded lilac, are ill-fitting and uncomfortable. Not something she's used to. By the time she's handed a bucket and pair of shears, she's starting to get her bearings. The sensation of being unable to change what she does presses in on her, but she sets to work--at least it's something to do. By the time someone, anyone comes to find her, she's covered in a sheen of sweat, her hair stuck to her forehead. Almost relieved, she looks at her possible savior.

"Uh, show me the glow? I think that's what I'm supposed to ask."

2. Tea and tears

Finally in the safe house, finally showered, and finally outfitted in more comfortable (if worn) clothes, she has a steaming cup of herbal tea next to her on the side table. Glimmer is trying desperately to reach the comfortable powers she's been so used to tapping into for, well, her whole life. She stretches out, trying to access the Moon Stone, to teleport even if it's only a few feet--but each time her chest begins to glow and her body strains, trying to flex a muscle that doesn't exist any longer. And there is nothing. There's only the dispiriting sensation of defeat and the sensation of emptiness. There's the sickening feeling that a part of her has been lost. Glimmer slumps back, finally collapsing onto one of the sagging old couches in the living room with an unhappy groan. She's trying quite hard not to simply burst into tears. Instead, she just looks up at whoever happens to be in the room with her.

"I can't make it work anymore." It's a grossly familiar feeling--she had been off of Etheria before. Away from the magical power source and cut off from the comfort of her magical prowess.

"...Is it going to stay like this?"

3. Wildcard, bitches!

[ Anything else you want with Glimmer! Also happy to use brackets instead if that's what you prefer. ]

2!

[lifetothefullest]

Lance wanders into the room just as she's dropping onto the couch, and honestly her entirely countenance is relatable; he's already an empathetic person to begin with, and even more so when he already feels the same way.

So he definitely can't ignore that sad expression, especially not after her comments, and asks gently, "Is what going to stay like this?"

1.

[filloryfanatic]

Quentin is usually the person who runs out for newcomers once he gets the alert, and while he's been pretty down lately and not his usual self, he can't really stop himself from doing it. It's instinct, and something to do outside of brood. The overalls really help as something that stands out, so he's glancing around looking for them. He spots a young woman and comes closer, intending to test to see if she's one of them, but she says something first that makes him smile.

"Um, so ... just for your information, you don't really want to say that to just anyone." Quentin glances at the others around them, still working. It's hard to describe what the glow is starting to mean around here. He also has no way to trigger his powers at the moment to show off the glow, so there's the other option.

"Hi, I'm Quentin. We're sort of a secret." See, that's what the hushed tone is all about! He doesn't have any gloves on of his own so he frowns and looks down at his hands before reluctantly offering one to him. "When you take my hand you'll see it, and, um, sorry. It's ... going to be something." What he has to do now is focus on feeling what he wouldn't mind someone absorbing, not his constant sadness and depression. It hangs over him like a noose, but he focuses instead on the anxious and hopeful parts of his every day attitude, hoping she'll get those instead from a very brief touch.

wildcard

[purrsistence]

[ Catra changes shifts with whoever's on Newbie Watch Duty in the safehouse that day-- they tap out and Catra taps in, and at first she doesn't even see Glimmer at all. Maybe Glimmer's taking a nap, or deep in conversation with someone else, or has gone to the bathroom. Who knows. Either way, Catra doesn't spot her.

Rather, she waltzes over to the kitchen and immediately starts rifling through the cupboards, trying to find something to snack on to get her through babysitting duty. Her distinctly recognizable voice floating through the place, cutting through the air like a knife. ]

No. Junk. Junk. Man, they still don't stock this pantry with anything decent, do they? I always forget how bad it is in here. Oh hey! Froot loops!

[ Catra grabs the box of sugar-coated cereal and opens it, grabbing a handful and shoveling it into her mouth. She looks different from how Glimmer would have last seen her-- no Horde uniform, for starters. Instead she wears ripped jeans and a leather jacket, and her mane of hair is no longer long as it once was, but cropped in a wild and messy bob just past her chin that seems to be threatening to morph into an afro. ]

2.

[evasives]

Cassian always swings by the safehouse after they get the news of a drop off, albeit later in the day in the hopes of making sure all the new Displaced are in. So far no luck, but he always hopes to catch a familiar face.

No luck again with any familiar faces, but one of the new ones catches his eye when she gives him a helpless sort of glance.

"Make what work? A power?"

It seems to be the thing people that had some kind of ability before notice first, that their old skills are gone here.

2 oh boy here we go

[dumbjockenergy]

[ Adora is rarely in the safehouse anymore. With her job as a bouncer and fake-but-not friendship with Catra taking up her time, she really only ever comes back to see if there's anything she can help with.

Time in New Amsterdam has changed Adora. She looks a little more tired and her hair is cut short, unable to be pulled back into her iconic ponytail. Yet still, somehow, she's managed to find clothes that looks startlingly similar to her old ones.

As she shuffles her way through the Safehouse, Adora isn't really even paying much attention to the living room.

But the sounds of Glimmer's voice stops her dead in her tracks, and within seconds Adora is practically bursting into the room. ]

--Glimmer?!

2

[jinshi]

[ like many of the Displaced, Tomoe has a habit of coming by the safehouse when newcomers arrive; unlike many of them, he doesn't make any particular effort to speak with the newcomers. his only interest is in whether Nanami is part of them, after all. but he is, at least, not quite so callous as to completely ignore when someone is speaking to him first. he'd seen the girl struggling with something, so he can assume what it is she's realised she lacks. ]

Unfortunately, it will. [ he cocks his head to the side, a distinctly animal gesture complimented by his rounded, white fox ears. ] You ought to have a new ability, thanks to that thing in your chest. Though it may be some time before the nature of it comes to light.

2

[blacksky]

Elektra has taken to resting in the cot. The work itself had not been hard even if it had been humiliating albeit familiar to blindly follow orders. She feels like she's been through the ringer before ever awakening here. That's something she'll have to piece together eventually. For now, Elektra watches people as it all slots back into place. Glimmer makes for an interesting subject.

She lets out a soft gasp when her chest glows, openly fascinated. The former soldier finds herself disappointed the girl didn't succeed in whatever she intended to do. The question directed her way visibly gives her pause. There's only one answer that comes to mind. "I don't know." Anything really. It feels like she's bathed in the Lethe. Self-preservation keeps her from commenting on it.

She can still wonder about someone else's vulnerabilities though. "What are you trying to do?"

2. BULLIES YOU

[wangxian]

[ until a moment ago, lan wangji may have been a figure in her periphery. occasional as it is, lan wangji visits here. whether it is to clean his hands of the chalk he often keeps with him these days, to greet those who are new to this world ⁠— he still appears here and there. and today is no exception to it.

he has not interfered, not yet. but, it may be only that he does because a newer one voices her dissent, queries anyone in earshot.

and lan wangji is there. ]

For now.

[ he answers, by way of greeting. his bedside manner could use work, but there is a sort of gentleness in that sincerity. lan wangji is an honest man ⁠— he will not disguise what is fact because it is uncomfortable, because another may believe she would do poorly in her handling of it. still, he sits a respectful distance from her, back straight and shoulders balanced upon a cushion that has found its seeming home upon the floor.

between his pale hands, he too holds a mug of tea which he settles upon the low table without much disruption of the quiet. the ceramic makes a pleasant click. ]

Do not push yourself to use it. [ it, it would seem, would be whatever it is she is attempting to accomplish. he should know of it, given the time he has spent here. it is marked in the length of his hair, the way it grazes past his chin. he has known the pain of his own efforts, has known the pain of others.

but, the warning is all he might do. he will not press her or anyone to make the choices they do in this respect. ]

2~

[auriphrygiate]

Traejan had partaken of the mini-bar at some point, which is possibly the only reason he's not climbing the walls out of sheer boredom. Fortunately, he's not an unpleasant sort of drinker even in this, the least desirable of situations.

He's only just wandered into the living room when she finally decides to give up, so in lacking context there's a moment or two where he glances around just to make sure he's not missing something obvious.

"What?

Dr. Lance Sweets | OTA

[lifetothefullest]

[1. The worst part of this is the overalls (arrival)]

[It's honestly hard to say if this is better or worse than the last time he ended up in another world.

On the pros side, he isn't half dead. That's always nice. Also he's outside, not in a cave.

In the cons side, pretty much everything else. The real question is if the former two pros outweigh all the rest of the cons combined.

He's thinking not, as he finds himself fighting with a vine, even though he really has no desire or even intent to actually be doing any work. What he wants to do is lurk around and just observe while pretending to work, and yet that isn't happening. Weird.

Also this vine just doesn't want to let go, geez. Maybe it would if Lance had even the slightest idea of what he's doing, which he doesn't, but he's never claimed gardening to be a skill of his. That's the explanation he's going with for anyone who might question why he's holding onto the vine using the shears, a foot against the wall so he can use leverage to pull on it.

Hopefully whoever comes to talk to him doesn't show up just as the vine comes loose and he tumbles into them.]



[2. Just totally casual and very legit (safehouse)]

[Some of the pros of this place have faded fast.

There's nothing he loves more than being stuck with a bunch of other people in close quarters. Nothing. Absolute favorite thing. 10/10. Only way to make it better is to be not allowed to leave and no coffee.

A mini-bar helps a little, but since it would be an absolutely terrible idea to actually drink enough to make this place not suck it doesn't do that much for him. It does help a little with the underlying agitation he's feeling about this entire situation, and calms some of the urge to pace around and freak out a little, but mostly it just gives him the nerve to see if he can get away with testing the rules.

So he takes up lurking within eyeshot of the hatch, waiting to see if anyone enters or leaves, so that he can casually head in that direction. It's a long shot that it'll work, but everything about his life has been a long shot, so--]

Hey, can you leave it open? I'm on the way out.

[With any luck it won't even be a lie.]



[3. There's worse things BUT STILL (safehouse)]

[Well, that didn't work, or it did and we'll just ignore rp continuity, so he's settled in to sulk a bit in the kitchen. Mostly that involves trying to figure out something he can eat without having to do anything more complicated than boiling water, which he only gets right about half the time.

But after a little digging something akin to ramen is procured, and Lance doesn't bother checking the label until he's got the water going. He leans back against the counter, picks up the package, and uh--]

Are these crickets?



[4. Wildcard]

[Whatever! You can message me at amiasha to plot something or just throw a scenario at me, either way. c:]

arrival!

[evocation]

[Okay, part of the reason Kyna showed up to help the new arrivals is maybe because she wanted to see all of them in overalls. Maybe. They'd be easy to spot anyway, with their shaved heads and general demeanor, but the overalls are decidedly hilarious, and Kyna loves it.

One of them is wrestling with a vine, attacking it in a way that even a city girl knows will never work. Of course she gets close enough just as the vine snaps and he falls backward, right into her. Luckily, Kyna stumbles back just in time to avoid getting crushed in favor of just being jostled instead.]

Hey, new kid. Gardening not your thing?

2 to tango

[nonscriptum]

[ Nate freezes just as he turns an awkward corner, catching a statement about a dozen feet behind him down the adjacent hall. He knows that voice. He knows that voice, the inflection, and the slightly-subversive tone that suggests someone wants out and can't find a way outside of using someone who's been in residence for some time, and for a moment Nate tries to rationalize it.

People from his previous world are few and far between, and while it's been nice to see Drake, they were never overtly close. They didn't hang out. Nate tries to do so now but every time he reaches for a new anchor, something comes up. Something happens. He's probably dead back home anyway, so what's the point?

The chances are slim. ]

Where to? [ He turns slowly and the relief is instantaneous, welling up in his stomach like a sharp fall. Nate would know him anywhere. ] Doctor Agent Sweets.

3

[sparklequeen]

[ Glimmer is in a similar position, though in her case she has been doing nothing but drink tea and fret. She's in the kitchen, waiting on the kettle to go again while she filches yet another tea-bag from the supply in the cabinets. When Lance asks his question, she turns to look at the packaging. Huh. ]

...Yeah, I think that says crickets.

being the most casual near the hatch

[cetra]

[ She catches sight of Lance as she also mills around the general hatch area. She's curious to see what it's all about - and is none too pleased to see they really can't just up and leave.

Not a fan. ]

Mind if I come along? [ She quips from his right, hands clasped behind her back as she leans over to catch his attention. ] Not that I'll have any idea where to go from here, but two heads are better than one, right?

[ If you're going she's latching on, man. ]

aerith gainsborough | ota

[cetra]

❀ arrival

The sluggish feeling doesn't go away completely before she's looking around, her brain slowly coming out of a fog. Her most basic instinct tells her to run, and it takes every ounce of energy she can muster to stop herself.

She's not stupid - she's in a place she knows nothing about, looking like a construction worker...kinda...and she's gotta tear down vines on these buildings.

It's weird. No doubt about it. Going on auto pilot works best as she adjusts to the brightness and loudness of reality. The nature of this work makes that easy for her, even as she has to stop and watch in awe as she takes in the buildings being swallowed by all the green. She can't say it's not an improvement - this is her sort of aesthetic. Wonder what Midgar would look like, covered the same way?

Running around with secret code phrases isn't exactly in her wheelhouse, so she feels a little silly doing it. What else can she do but just shrug and go with it? Seems better than the alternative so far. Maybe she should be more suspicious, being drugged is a great reason to distrust anyone, but the surface doesn't always represent what's truly going on. Not all the time.

If she were younger, she would have tried to blend in. Now, she knows that little gets accomplished that way. And so, she keeps an eye out for folks who didn't arrive with her, approaching cautiously but with purpose. Using her ability to compartmentalize the overwhelming sense of confusion and worry, shoving it to the back of her mind for processing later, helps her take on the task with vigor. She is self conscious about the hair (or lack thereof), the style of clothes she just isn't used to (she tends toward the pastel and flowy), however none of that will stop her from getting on the ball with this.

It certainly won't stop her from checking in on anyone, either - others she recognizes from the little trip, who may look just as confused as she feels. Regardless, Aerith is doing what she does best - asking questions and pulling weeds.

❀ safehouse (cots, kitchen & eating area)

She feels a little more comfortable in the clothes she's been given - much better than the coarse overalls. First item on the vanity agenda - find something cute to wear. Dresses allow freedom that she enjoys, and maybe she enjoys the cutesy color of pastels sometimes. Nothing wrong with having preferences, is there?

Focusing on that is easier than focusing on her missing braid.

As it is, she spends some time sitting on the cot she's claimed, trying to sort out the events that have transpired in her internal timeline. She was gone by herself, reaching out to the Planet, on the cusp of something she was eager to cross into when she finds herself here.

And the 'here' memories so far haven't been pleasant. There's a tiredness that lingers in her mind, one that won't be eased by sleep she's sure, so she jumps on the next best distraction - namely, talking to others.

Once in the kitchen, she tries to be a little sly about checking the cabinets - curious to see if she'll possibly recognize anything - when she has to pause, reading the label of a bag of flour.

Cricket flour.

"Okay, not the kind of thing I was looking for," she says out loud, frowning at the package. Not that she was about to bake any muffins, but she carefully puts the package back where she found it. "Remind me to keep an eye on the ingredients in stuff around here."

Doesn't matter if the person near her even knows her name - she needs a comrade in disgust here.

Soon after that, she finds herself sitting down with a glass of water, bright eyed and at attention. She's got a lot on her mind, and it's just bursting to come out of her. Aerith's always been one who works through problems with talking, and having a soundboard will help with the whirling of her thoughts.

She can't hear the Planet anymore. This fact has her unsettled in a way she never imagined before.

❀ misc/wildcard

[ Hit me up if you have anything specific I can write up a specific starter for whatever! Chat her up anytime, anywhere, she would approach people no matter what. She is a friendly sort! Hit me up at violentwords if you've got a thing and we should do the Thing. Feel free to do prose or brackets, I just felt prosey today. :)]

safehouse

[sparklequeen]

Glimmer has been in and out of the kitchen almost constantly as she makes and drinks cup after cup of tea in an attempt to calm her jittery nerves. She's changed from the ill-fitting jumpsuit (thank goodness) to something definitely more comfortable, though she definitely seems to have similar color preferences to Aerith. Comfy shorts in a pastel purple and a simple tank-top that's probably a little too large in a heather grey. At Aerith's disgust, she looks up from where she's just starting the electric kettle again.

"Why? What's wrong?" Glimmer's brow furrows. "It's not made of people or something, is it?" Glimmer why is that where you brain went first???

John Murphy | OTA

[reproached]

arrival

[ It could be worse.

These things usually are. Usually, when Murphy arrives in a new world, he's threatened with death or outright attacked. That's not the case here, although he waits for that moment throughout his hazy transport. No one is more surprised than he is when he's pulled out of the vehicle and met with a nurse rather than a firing squad. That puts him in a good mood, or at least, he thinks it's a good mood, because he actually wants to do exactly what he was just told to do. Manual labor is a kinder fate than execution.

He doesn't understand why they're all doing this, though. Green stuff is so rare in the universe these days, it feels a little sacrilegious to be clearing it away. So instead of getting to work clearing vines away from windows, he picks up a basket and wanders in search of vegetables. There may be snacks in abundance on the worksite, but he's hoping he can squirrel away some food for later. Who knows when he'll have another chance?

So there's Murphy, snipping away anything that stands between him and a cucumber or pepper. Though it takes a keen eye to find any of these treasures, it's a lot easier than foraging in dense forest. For the most part.

One especially red tomato catches his eye and Murphy practically dives into a thicket of vines in an attempt to pluck it. Just his luck, his sleeve gets caught on a thorn when the prize is only inches out of reach. And he hadn't thought he'd need his shears, so he left them by the basket way over there, which leaves him now wrestling a bunch of plants he's feeling less and less affection for by the second. ]

Oh, come on, you leafy bastards. What'd I ever do to you?

[ Besides chopping up their friends. ]

safehouse

[ This, Murphy does not enjoy. A room full of strangers and a locked door. Granted, he appreciates the amenities. It's a rare luxury to have unlimited access to alcohol in a prison cell. But it doesn't make him feel much better about the not allowed to leave part.

He pilfers a whole bottle of (what is this?) rum and plants himself on a cot as far from the others as he can manage. Hugging it close to his chest like a teddy bear, or like something he expects someone else to snatch away from him as soon as they notice it, he settles in for a long night of getting trashed.

There is so much he doesn't want to think about right now. ]

wildcard

( Whatever you want! Hit me up at pana or pana#3353 for plotting. )

arrival!

[jettisons]

[Bellamy isn't really working, or at least, not actively. He's got a pair of sheers tucked into his back pocket and a basket hanging from his arm, but he's mostly here to scope out the new arrivals. Gardening can come later.

He nearly walks right past Murphy, buried in the plants the way he is, and it's only when he hears that familiar (complaining) voice that he pulls up short, head snapping around.]

Murphy?

[For a second, Bellamy's thrown. Murphy was here once already, and then disappeared. It doesn't make sense that he was dropped off with the rest of the new arrivals, right? Then again, Bellamy was, too. Apparently the rules aren't a hard and fast thing here.]

Eliot Waugh // OTA

[endlessflask]

➼ i. arrival

[ It's potentially the weirdest thing that's ever happened to Eliot, which, honestly, is saying a lot. It should be alarming to him that bizarre occurrences are the norm for him now, but it's hard for him to really find the energy to be annoyed by it when so much else is fighting for his focus.

For one thing, trying to sort out what, exactly, is happening right now.

And maybe more importantly, why the hell he's in overalls.

It's all a bit too fuzzy (and not in the good way he usually enjoys feeling fuzzy) and the overalls are starting to kick up memories that Eliot would prefer to forget. It's not made any better once their task is laid out to them. He's handed the tools to help out, and the sweat forming on his face isn't entirely due to the work but something else he keeps to himself.

He can't not do the work, but he's not bad at it. Even if he's clearly not enjoying it. ]

➼ ii. safehouse

[ He's starting to regain his clarity, though Eliot still can't figure out where he took a wrong turn to end up here. The only small, silver lining seems to be that he's not alone in his confusion, and he inevitably decides to just go with the flow cautiously until things start to sort themselves out.

He's grateful for a change of clothes. Nothing about them are particularly pleasing to him, but it's better than overalls. Beggars really cannot be choosers. And there's a bar. Eliot's not going to balk at quality - alcohol is alcohol. He sets about making himself a drink, then glances towards the person nearest him. ]

Can I interest you in a potentially suspect cocktail?

[ Why drink alone, right? ]

➼ iii. wildcard

Choose your own adventure and follow your heart. I'm open to anything.

2

[requiemshark]

[ For his part, Ephemera is just trying to roll with all the new insanity. It doesn't help him to get boggled down on the enormity of everything that's happened lately in his life, or how batshit insane it sounds to lay it all out, so he's just trying to run with it. Return to his old routine or establish new ones when the old no longer work. And that includes making the rounds at the safehouse when the newbies get dumped in. Partially to make sure he doesn't get blindsided by the addition of any new Freelancers—again—but also just to get a better sense of who the Displaced are.

And, occasionally, to answer questions or offer some small bit of help. He's trying to be a better person these days. And if he keeps his hood up to hide the worst of the scars, that's his own business.

He tips his head to the side at the question. ]

Define suspect.

[ He never turns down alcohol, but he'd rather not be poisoned just the same. ]

Roy Harper | DC Comics | OTA

[stagethreeclinger]

arrival - garden hour;

[ though the guards that dragged roy from the van gave him orders that would have him weeding and vegetable tending all day, they did not think to tell him to do it quietly. ]

I've been waiting for Harvest Moon to go dystopian future for years, but I thought there'd be more robot chickens by now.

[ roy's lucky enough to have woken with a shaggier head of hair than most, but it's nothing like the shoulder length shock of ginger hair he used to sport. even short, between the flash of red, the freckles, and the none stop yammering, he's hard to miss as he turns from the stranger on his left to the stranger on his right to continue his one sided conversation. ]

But hey, at least it's not Soylent Green is People, right? [ whoever he's talking to doesn't seem to be catching on to any of his references here, and roy sighs, looking a little deflated. ] No? Okay.

[ he'll just go back to minding his own garden business. and feeling extremely uneasy the fact he's been mind-controlled into community service in an alternate dimension. ]

safehouse;

[ after sleeping off the effects of the drugs for a few hours, roy wakes at some early hour of the next day. he slinks from his cot and sets to inspecting every last inch of the safehouse, nearly silently (there might be a metal click here or there when he checks to see if a door is locked). roy will be at it for a couple hours, and once he's satisfied there's no currently available escape route, he shuffles back to bed. anyone roy spots awake and watching while he goes about his business gets a sleepy half smile, a wave, and a single finger lifted to his lips - shh.


roy isn't awake again until past noon the next day, then spends the two or three hours after waking, lying sprawled across his cot, pillow folded up over his arms and head flopped to the side on top of it, looking barely conscious half the time. there's one socked foot bent up in the air, slowly penduluming from one side to the other, looking like a bored cat's tail.

really, he's eavesdropping, listening in on conversations and questions going on inside the safehouse from where he is, observing people, watching, trying to piece this puzzle together in his head. but that doesn't require a whole lot of moving around right now, and roy feels like he's generally more approachable as a burnout than a Hero Guy. the important parts of the latter can be performed without exiting the state of the former.

eventually, once conversation has come to a lull and activity has died down, and they've all realized they're going to be locked in here together for the next 4 freaking days, roy pipes up in the relative quiet. ]

I spy... something grey.

[ almost everything inside this creepy warehouse is some shade of grey. ]

wildcard;

[ hit me with whatever, i'll roll with it! if you want to plot something, you can reach me at wuzzafuzzle ]

garden hour;

[reneger]

( despite his better judgement, jason still goes out and looks for new arrivals when they show up. searches for familiar faces, just in case. he hasn't--been out of his apartment in a long ass time for anything non-vital, but thinking of bruce or someone showing up and him not knowing it the moment it happens is enough for him to get his ass off of his couch, throw on a light jacket, and head out. he looks like absolute shit; bags under his eyes that are more than noticeable, pale as fuck even for himself.

even if he feels like shit, the head of red hair is enough to grab his attention before he even notices it's roy. and then it's. well. it's obvious who it is. generally, he'd try and be a little more suave with his approach.

but he's tired. so he just walks up behind him, hands shoved down into his pockets, grimaces, and calls, )

Roy.

William Clayton-Queen / OTA

[slavophile]

> a cut below l hedge clipping

( William fruitlessly follows El's coordinates, just in case somebody he does know shoes up in this time. His sister, maybe. But, this time, like every other, it's nobody he recognizes. But, he's been here, too. Only a month or so before. So, anything he can do to help, whether that be answering questions he can try to answer, taking anyone to the safe house, or even causing a distraction, he's ready.

Or, he was, before he'd been convinced to join the cause. He's not a man of manual labor, but it isn't moving big beams or anything taxing. What's a few hours' work for some much needed funds? Despite the work, he still keeps his short sleeve button down completely buttoned up thanks to his chest plate. And he trades his usual pair of gloves for the garden variety, literally.

He takes several breaks to get water, and approaches anyone new if he can. )

Crazy how the environment can just turn on us, right?

( It's baiting, yes. Usually it's them, the people who ravage the planet. The corrupt people. But, nobody had been here to keep any of the vegetation from getting out of control. )

> a cut above l fighting

( He makes the wrong decision to visit the fighting arena.

After two stiff drinks, his confidence mounts. Being cooped up in the simulation, under their conditions, surrounded by people and ciphers makes him bolder. He doesn't outright try and recognize anyone from inside the simulation. But, if someone approaches, he'll commiserate, lift his glass. Give them a wide-eyed, that did happen, right?

Days with Ilya didn't suddenly make him his sister or Oliver Queen, and his ass is handed to him the minute he tries to lowest weight class. He should stick to betting.

He gets back into the safe house late one night, quietly trying to open the fridge and collect ice into a bag. Yeah. Moving to the makeshift bar, he pours himself one more, not that he needs it, but, it cools the sting of his cheek off. )

> cut it out l safe housing

( The lack of movement in the simulation, and lack of any action on William's part only bums him out enough to get him to be more active. He uses a gym around the corner daily, and goes running in the neighborhood. He has his eye on still training and knows there's one thing he needs to practice more. And perfect.

So, several times a week after showering off for the day, he approaches someone new inside the safe house. )

Hey, this is going to sound like a line, but being without our ... power inside the simulation, it's reminded me I should actually practice mine. And you, can too. I'll show you mine?

>cut to the chase l red wings

( he's gone from the guy who 'doesn't really drink' to accepting that he does now. most nights he posts up at Red Wings. he's busy using the neural interface if nobody is nearby, poking around and seeing just how far into a backdoor he can get. he is far from the hacker he's ever been in this year but trying to pull apart code and html, he at least feels that will help.

he keeps to vodka most of the time, usually moving through a glass over the course of an arrow. not anything crazy.

later in the night, he might challenge someone to a game of darts. )

My dad would probably laugh, and my sister, that the dart I can handle is in a bar and not with a quiver.

( If he has his eye on anyone, he tries playing it close to the vest. He knows the Displaced end up here most nights so if he's looking around interested, he must be, right? Maybe he's waiting for someone. Of course, he should reach out to someone he'd be waiting for. Shouldn't he? That's how it works?

Sucks that he sucks at that, doesn't it. )

( //or, choose your own adventure and surprise me. if you have an idea or have a question, hit me up at manipulative )

cut it out;

[wittingly]

[ The thing about the simulation and their time in it - no pictures. No photos swapped over the network. He's got no idea what William looks like, what he sounds like, who he is. It's only been a day or two since the sim ended (as it turns out, literally single-handed on Ian's part, thank you very much) and he's still recovering from the fight it took to get into the bunker.

He's got a massive patch on his shoulder covering up a monster gash, one that sticks out a little under his shirt sleeve. He's got the air of a guy who's coming down from a bad hangover. Despite all that, his countenance is pleasant and his expression seems friendly. Approachable.

Approachable enough for a "stranger", it seems. His eyebrows lift with intense and immediate curiosity - the power stuff, it gets him every time. ]

Sure, I'll show you mine after you show me yours first.

[ As the saying goes. Wry, drawled out, amused. ]

Let's see it, what can you do?

Traejan Lightrend | OTA

[auriphrygiate]

↳ { arrival; open to all }

[ of all the things that feel wrong about this situation, being compelled is decidedly the worst. traejan's never been on the losing side of that situation and it's a fierce anger that runs through him at the sense of helplessness. he can't make his body obey but maybe his displeasure is still plain in his expression to anyone who bothers looking. he sort of stands out even without trying, over six-and-a-half-feet of long-eared elf. they probably took his earrings, so at least for now they're not long and also full of metal. not the pristine, ethereal kind of elf either — he definitely looks like he's seen some shit — at least considering his vaguely ashen complexion and the gnarly looking scar he has going from under his right ear down across his throat until it dips below his shirt collar. it's all stitched up in a very frankenstein-esque way, too, not that he has any idea who that is.

anyway, he was pissed but then he stepped outside.

sure, the building was covered in plants which so what, he's been to feralas but more importantly the building. scratch any thought he might've had about trying to make this look at all cool, since he's now busy gawking up at the concept of skyscrapers. he's seen plenty of strange things but they'd all sort of fallen into an understandable realm of possibility. this hits different. he's still walking — having little choice and all — and at some point someone presses some tools and a bucket into his hands.

ah, right. ]

They have the ability to build like this but still require manual labour?

[ this was why goblins wisely invented shredders. unless this was some sort of peon work in which case he'll retract his judgement. hacking away at all the foliage is mildly cathartic as well for as long as he's forced to work before someone new finally shows up. 'new' being debatable. maybe they were there all along. it's not like he's paid much attention to the rest of the group beyond making a note of who looks human or like any other potential enemy, since he hadn't any reason to immediately assume he wasn't still in his own world at the time. ]

You here with answers? And a glow?

↳ { safehouse; open to all }

[ apparently he gets hungry here like a normal person now. the lack of his Hunger with a capital 'H' dawns on him eventually, which as strange as that is is probably a good thing considering he's presently locked in here with everyone else for the foreseeable future. there was something in there about IDs and credits but it all sounds confusing and unclear like.. Titan machinery.

still.. sitting around being regular-hungry gives you thoughts anyway, so he adjourns to the kitchen eventually. noble privilege means he's never needed to learn to cook or make tea... until literally right now, but half of what he finds doesn't even look properly like food compared to what he's used to. eventually he finds a can of something and manages to get it open with a knife. it's rather large grasshoppers in some sort of sauce that you're probably supposed to add to some other dish or at the very least heat up, but he doesn't seem put off by them at all.

no, he's just going to stand here and eat saucy grasshoppers off the end of a knife while he tries to decide which kind of alien liqour to try first. he's apparently going nowhere for days. what's the hurry? ]

↳ { wildcard; open to all }

[ open to whatever you like! we can chat about stuff at koutenko or koutenko#5884 also: willing to match style!! ]

MIN!!!!!!! safehouse time

[laozu]

You're very bad at eating!

[ says the man holding a variety of food goods in his arms as he approaches the stove. while not one to turn up his nose at the food in the least, there's something awful about watching someone chow down on only one element of a proper meal, and not even using the appropriate utensils to do so. which means he'll just have to prep a meal for the newbies, starting with this feral creature. at the counter, he aligns the pieces he's going to use to make a good, savory broth. broth is easy! right? nothing could go wrong! right? the stove won't cringe from him as he starts it up and searches for a pot! right?

who is letting wei wuxian near the stove someone stop him ] Here! I'll fix that for you.

[ he's not bad at gathering food together; lemongrass, ginger, mushrooms, bok choy and more are spread out on the counter as he gets to washing them clean and peeling them apart, fetching spare knives and a ladle and a little cup to taste-test with once he gets the broth going. ]

A growing boy needs his vegetables, and thankfully we have those in bounty. Put the grasshoppers down and come help me grate ginger.