ARRIVAL LOG 004

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: Night of August 05
WHAT: The fourth arrival
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy. Further notes at end of log.

> ARRIVAL LOG #004

Awareness comes to you in blurred snatches, cloudy fragments of sound and light, color, sensation. Hazy and difficult to grasp on to, but slowly aligning into focus. A series of regular, rhythmic beeps. A medicinal, astringent smell. The sensation of movement, a low hum and accompanying vibration under you. Your eyes are heavy, hard to keep open, but in the glimpses between slow, dark blinks you see four people in black body armor seated opposite you, as well as a man in dark gray scrubs. You realize there are others next to you. All of you in white scrubs, hair recently cut but at various stages of growth, restrained by straps across your chests, arms, feet, holding you to the bench under you. To your left, an armored interior door, two more people visible, the movement of streets passing through a windshield. You try to open your mouth to speak, but it's as if your tongue is coated in tar, and you manage nothing more than an empty parting of lips. The vehicle stops. The guard opposite you stands and comes to unbuckle you from the bench, helping you to your feet. Your limbs feel wooden and heavy, slow to move. One guard opens the back of the vehicle, bright sunshine and the rushing sound of a crowd flooding in, a heavy wave of warm air. The nurse moves to stand at the back, checking each passenger over one by one just before they're helped out of the vehicle, quick and methodical. He doesn't climb out after you, moving to sit as the last passenger is unloaded. The guards keep their heads down. Their actions are quick, firm, but not entirely unkind. Once all the passengers are out, they climb back into the vehicle and close the doors. The engine powers up again, and then the bus is gone. You're left alone in an alley, with no idea of where you are or why you've been brought here. The sound of the crowd nearby carries on uninterrupted. Music, chatter and laughter, the occasional sound of a large splash into water. At the end of the alley opposite to where the van left you, the street opens out to a wide artificial river. Gathered on the banks, on several boats across the surface and in the water are hundreds of people: a giant pool party under the blazing summer sun. ◉ Though entirely capable of independent action and thought, new characters will find themselves completely, unquestioningly compliant to any verbal statement which could be taken as a command or request.

> THE PARTY

The message from El comes the same as previous: insistent, not waiting for any active attempt to open it. Scrolling within your vision as if being written while you're reading it. Who's ready for bus #4? Looks like they want you to have some fun this time, they've dropped them off right on top of the river party. Someone get down there and find them before they fall in, please. The New Amsterdam River Party is a near annual event, scheduled for whenever the heat begins to really climb. Located roughly at the middle of the river's length, six large boats take anchor, blocking any water commute for the day. Smaller boats move between them and the river banks, taking any passengers who'd prefer not to get wet back and forth. The area is decorated for the occasion, with several huge palm tree and mermaid sculptures curving over the river, flashing in alternating neon colors. Curling strings of bright lights are strung between them, dangling low and promising a truly flamboyant light show when the sun goes down. For the moment the the focus is fun under the sun. Colorful floats, balls and slides are strewn across the water and banks, with a wide array of water pistols, balloons and slings available at stalls. Beach umbrellas offer shade along the banks, and music blares from the boats, where food sellers have booths and tables to feed the crowd and provide plenty of cool drinks. Lifeguards take posts, watching everything with careful eyes, and large, marked stalls declare themselves to be skincare centers, handing out free sunscreen and reminding everyone to regularly reapply, especially if they've been in the water. In all the colorful, skimpy swimwear and sunglasses, six bewildered people in white scrubs are sure to stand out. Hopefully the citizens are having too much fun to care, but with such attentive lifeguards and event security around, it would be best to find the new arrivals in the crowd as quickly as possible.

> THE SAFEHOUSE

Access to the safehouse is a hatch hidden behind stacks of empty storage shelves in the back of an abandoned supermarket in an outer district of the city. The immediate area is similarly abandoned, empty stores, flanked by several blocks of dive bars and clubs which cater to more niche tastes. A place where people can come and go unseen, or, if seen, not spoken of. A dark haired woman called Gaby is ready to greet the new arrivals and get them settled in, brusque and no-nonsense – she'll be open for in depth questions later, but will advise everyone to ask the people who brought them in for the beginning bits of information. ◉ The safe house is a large open space, filled with rows of basic cots set up to sleep a large amount of people. Basic, but outfitted with everything necessary for daily life. A few doors lead to back rooms for storage, medical care and a large communal bathroom, and past the long rows of cots there is a communal kitchen, fully stocked, and an eating area. Privacy is at a minimum. ◉ New characters will be asked to pick their beds, and provided with a change of (second-hand, mismatched and somewhat threadbare) clothes and basic toiletries. ◉ While there were previously also NPC occupants of the safehouse, natives to New Amsterdam, these people have now been moved on to somewhere safer. A few of their belongings remain, discarded or accidentally abandoned. ◉ Gaby will make it clear to all new arrivals that if they have any requests or queries, they should contact her or El. ◉ The drugs making new characters compliant will remain in their systems for a few hours after their arrival at the safehouse before finally beginning to fade. They will be gone entirely after a night's rest. In the meantime, they may want to be careful of what others say to them. ◉ New characters will be given rudimentary access to the network on arrival in the safehouse, but will not have their ID set up yet. They will be able to make posts and replies, but their messages will be anonymous and they do not have inboxes yet. ◉ New characters will not be allowed to leave the safehouse until AUGUST 09. These 4 days are for them to adjust, learn about the world they've arrived in from their fellows, and for El to speak with them and work on setting up their IDs.

> FINAL OOC NOTES

Welcome to Meadowlark, newbies! You're now free to post to the network and logs comms. To reiterate, your characters will have no IDs or inboxes, nor be allowed out of the safehouse until August 9 (November 16). At that point it's expected they'll have gotten a good idea of their new situation from their fellow characters, and will have discussed their background and job potentials with El in order for their false IDs to be set up. If you have any questions or ideas about how you'd like to get your character involved in the world, or if they'd like to join Morningstar, please head over to the plot engagement post and drop us a comment! For questions specific to this log, there is a thread below. Please check out our November calendar rundown for a look at things happening this month. As a reminder, AC for new characters 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 November 20 and close on November 27. If you do not reply to AC, you will be considered idled and dropped from the game. We will not post a warning list.

> NAVIGATION

Comments

[evite]

[ the sneer is kind of unnecessary, daisy thinks, but not entirely unfamiliar. she gets it. being cooped up here, being told where you can and can't go, all while knowing you're in a place that gives nothing but questions and expects you to find the answers on your own — everyone reacts differently, but everyone hates it. she'd wanted to get out too. ]

That bad, huh?

[ the first few days are the worst. the clothes don't fit, the food's terrible, there's nowhere to go that doesn't put you face-to-face with some other newbie. ]

The storage closet's mostly sound-proof. [ a beat. ] If you want to scream without everyone staring at you.

[harmistice]

[Armitage is somewhat surprised when Daisy chooses to engage him in spite of his sour expression, even though the information she provides him with is, in his eyes, unhelpful. It is with some effort that he undoes the worst of his visible distain and instead regards his new company a perhaps too-serious expression.]

That won’t be necessary.

[His tone is clipped, militant, and holds a noticable British accent. He finishes wrapping the scarf, mildly thankful that his company seems to be used to this routine, so that he does not have to firld questions about his state of dress. He will, however, make a point to stress:]

I detest the prevelance of squallor surrounding us.

[evite]

[ there's a brief moment of pause after hux speaks. it's not the british accent that throws her. no, she's got experience with plenty of those — fitz, jemma, occasional interns or obnoxious ne'er-do-wells. it's the choice of words, the overly pompous, clipped tone.

monsieur high-and-mighty in a wannabe babushka gets a few slow blinks before daisy drops a drawled, ] Ooookay. Good to know.

[ let's try again, shall we? ]

You wanna park your high horse and climb down, dude?

[ or not. ]

[harmistice]

[Armitage scoffs in amusement, even if the turn of phrase is somewhat lost on him. The sentiment is there, as is the vocal displeasure with his attitude. He can appreciate someone willing to speak their mind.]

No. I quite like it up there, actually.

[She does not need to know that he does not have real context for what a “horse” is, or what planet it is from. The intent translates well enough. This is where he opts to stand to better converse with his new acquaintance.]

And to whom do I owe the pleasure?

[evite]

[ she doesn't like him. it's decided without much time at all, the scoff and obnoxious self-importance final nails in the coffin. he might — might — change her mind later on, if he goes out of his way to do it, but for now... she knows enough. ]

I'm sure the pleasure's all yours, buzzcut.

[ it's stupid to withhold her name, though. stupid and petty, and she's not trying to be those things. ]

It's Daisy. [ a beat. ] I'd ask if you're planning on shaking my hand but I wouldn't want to offend you.

[harmistice]

Hux.

[He offers his name to hide the flicker of displeasure that dances across his expression when she calls him “buzzcut”. He’d never been particularly good at keeping his anger in check. Even with the attempt to hide his anger at the pet name, he still comes out of it looking significantly less cheerful.

So mission accomplished there. The smile comes back, much more forced this time.]

No offense taken, of course. No two star systems greet one another alike.

[A lie. He does not offer his hand.]

[evite]

Uh huh.

[ there's that sound again. unimpressed acknowledgement, emphasis on the second syllable as all the air rushes out of her mouth. 'uh huh', as if to say 'you're a fucking weirdo, but okay' in the nicest way possible. ]

Let me guess: you're used to fancier digs than this, Huxtable.

[ more pop culture references the recipient won't get!!! does she give a shit? nope!!! ]

[harmistice]

Just Hux. General Hux if that does not suit you.

[RESPECT HIS AUTHORITY!!!11!1 He wasn't really looking for her validation, but somehow, her dismissal of him is doing the job of getting him angry at her better than anything else.]

Of course I am. I imagine that would have been obvious.

[evite]

Yeah, [ the syllable dragged out, yeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaah, so obviously sarcastic in every way it's practically painful to hear: ] I'm not gonna call you General, dude.

[ she's going to call him huxtable, and he'll learn to deal with it or he'll throw a fit. doesn't matter to her either way. ]

And since you're pretty much stuck here for the next few days, I guess you're just going to have to deal with being the new Mr Huxtable around here. Unless you've got some moral problem with Bill Cosby...

[ who knows, maybe hux knows something she doesn't. ]

[harmistice]

[Armitage rolls his eyes in the most exaggerated fashion he can manage when she uses "Huxtable" again. Of course, that name and the Bill Cosby reference go straight over his head.]

You may as well be speaking another language.

[He says this tiredly and arrogantly. Of course, he happens to have a mind for languages -- much like his father. But he would not impart that bit of information. "Trans-galactic pop culture" isn't exactly something you could pick up from observation alone.]

[evite]

[ she can't help but feel a little pleased to see him so obviously annoyed by her lowkey digs. they were practically innocent, for that matter, and yet — he was still rolling his eyes, grouching about as if she'd insulted his mother. ]

Last girl I knew who went to space camp said the same thing. Only she was cuter than you, and way less nasally.

[ in a horrible mockup of a british accent: ] Oh, but where are all the crumpets? You've ruined my holiday!

[ wah wah wah. ]

Maybe you'll get lucky and find a Rosetta Stone for millenial-ese.