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

c

[saviorexe]

[The kitchen is often a point of interest for newcomers; Markus knows this, and after having received the message from El blinking in his vision, there's one place in the safehouse that he can lend a hand to those newly displaced, newly disoriented. Hunger settles in after the nausea from the drug fades away, and the scent wafting out from what lies within will likely attract them with time.

Markus is in no hurry as he cuts into what appears to be a roasted chicken (proper meat is a difficult commodity to come by, but the safehouse stocks it on occasion, with the expectation of it being shared), and as if to illuminate the effort going into the meal prep, lit in the background through the oven window is another, sitting lazily in its roasting pan.]

Hungry?

[-he says, over his shoulder, hearing footsteps approach and a newcomer slide into his vision.]

[mercurio]

[prompto managed what felt like a solid few hours of sleep, but he woke up hurting. he's so damn hungry, no amount of trying to go back to sleep would work to ignore it. he almost thought he was imagining the smell of food wafting from the kitchen, but he trudged on out of bed anyway, holding onto his clothes at tummy-level.]

[even if he is here and many have reassured him (whether in good terms or not) that he's fine to go about the safehouse as he pleases. he thinks he remembers noctis mentioning he was going to go get some supplies from outside, but, honestly, prompto can't wait until he comes back to eat.]

[that, and he thought he was being quiet enough. however, he's surprised at how warm and kind the voice that greets him is. it reminds him a bit of ignis, and isn't that just gut wrenching.]

Ye-yeah. Starving.

[he doesn't know if the food being made is for him, though, so...]

Can I get some crackers or, I dunno, canned beans?

[saviorexe]

[Markus is inclined to lift a brow in his direction. It's enough to make him wonder if maybe what he's preparing isn't what's preferred by the newcomer with the shorn hair. A glance at his person, though, reveals a sort of anxiety thrumming along his demeanor. The uncertainty of someone newly arrived; Markus himself exuded such an aura in his own way, kept tamped under self-control.]

...You can. [-he says, finally, sitting the knife down and turning to face Prompto properly.] Do you prefer canned beans to chicken?

[I mean if that's what you want prompto]

[mercurio]

[he makes a face] Beans are the worst.

[but the response gives him hope that maybe whatever this delicious-smelling thing (chicken?) seems to be prepared in order to share it with others.]

[prompto takes a brave step forward, drawing circles into his shirt with his fingers, sticking close to the wall as he steps fully into the kitchen.]

What exactly is chicken...? It smells delicious, really, if you're sharing?

[saviorexe]

If beans are the worst then you shouldn’t request them.

[It’s too laced with the smallest underpinning of skeptical humor to sound like derision. With Prompto stepping forward, Markus gives a motion with his free hand to usher him closer.]

Of course I’m sharing. I can’t eat all of this by myself — you don’t have chicken where you’re from?

[Funny, the little assumptions he still makes about others and their worlds. It’ll still take a while to wipe them completely from his mind.]

A chicken is a type of domesticated bird.

[mercurio]

It's just everything I had to eat before coming here, I guess...

[and it's the only thing he thought he would be given. his expression changes, however, at markus's more open invitation, and prompto quite solidly leans over the counter a few feet from where the chickening is happening to have a look.]

[in his hunger, he is curious.]

[prompto shakes his head no.] Hmmhm. We don't have chicken, but we have chickatrices! They're also a domesticated type of bird. I guess they have a similar name, huh.

Speaking of names! I'm Prompto.

[saviorexe]

Chickatrices. Are they small, plump, and make clucking noises?

[Markus, appearing serious and considering -- but also given to curiosity about other worlds and their strange parallels. Especially in similarity; chikatrices and chickens sound same-y enough via naming conventions alone.]

I'm Markus. ["Prompto". An interesting name should be Paolo instead, haboring a somewhat energetic personality despite how utterly disoriented and confused the young man must be. Markus gives him a small grin, regardless.]

I'd shake your hand, but I should probably finish cutting this up. I'll make you a plate if you want; we can sit down and eat afterwards.

[mercurio]

[--!!]

Y'know, they kinda are? They're this big [he makes a circle with his arms over his chest, as if to show that the'd be a little shorter than his torso's length] but can be like, up to four feet, I think? And plump! And I guess they do more of a chirpy sound.

[prompto actually manages to whistle in such a way that resembles a chirp. he stops abruptly, snorting, as if amazed that he actually managed that in the first place, and keeps on looking on at markus as he introduces himself.]

Yeah, that's cool! It's nice to meet you, Markus.

[the smile prompto offers really isn't all that bright, but it's a big difference from his previous closed-off appearance.]

--anyway, chickatrices are small compared to their parents, cockatrices. They're like, 30 feet tall! Got a mean kick and their beaks are real tough.

[just a casual day strolling in the vesperpool wilderness...] Cockatrices aren't really much good for food though, but their chicks are!

[wecome to final fantasy fauna, nothing makes sense THEY'RE APPARENTLY FUCKING MASSIVE IN SIZE?????]

[saviorexe]

[He listens to the explanation as Prompto rattles off information about the local fauna. Divvying up even pieces is easy enough; a chicken is easier to carve than a turkey, and Markus turns to continue tending to the task for now.

He pauses briefly, though, at the mention of something 30 ft.]

30 feet?

[A motion to the oven, where a roasted chicken in a pan sits on display.]

That’s as big as a chicken gets.

[Not nearly as impressive.]

You seem to know a lot about the wildlife from your world. Is it an interest of yours?

[mercurio]

Well, hmm... not really.

[prompto moves on over to check out the chicken inside the oven. it sure is tiny.]

My friends and I just went out on hunts a lot. Sometimes the wildlife would move from their usual habitats and become invasive species on the local fauna. I mean, hunting is a big thing outside the walls of the city back home.

--that's. Really tiny.

[saviorexe]

Enough to feed a handful of people, though. That's what's important for now; we’re lucky to have this much. The most popular source of protein is bugs, after all, in this day and age.

[Something that Markus is still adjusting to, despite the prevalence of it. He never had to eat as an android in an android body, but he did have to prepare, and sometimes seeing the many-legged meals around the city still gives him pause.

But you know what they say about beggars and choosers.

At least Prompto’s fortunate enough to avoid that outcome today. #blessed]

And have you hunted 30 foot tall cockatrices? [A moniker born from myth, as far as Markus is concerned, but that obviously isn’t the case here.]

[mercurio]

Bugs.

[unsurprisingly, he makes a face. this does not sound like great future-world news.]

[he steps back from the oven and let's markus do what he needs to do. he hopes the other asks him to grab plates or something at some point, because prompto is itching to help.]

--yeah, and a lot more. That's not even the tallest. Once we had to hunt down a Catoblepas. About 150 feet... It's absolutely massive, but... Well, just to show that cockatrices aren't that strangely big for us or anythin'.

[saviorexe]

150 feet...

[This is a stretch of the imagination, easily so.]

How do you bring down something that tall?

[Though this is more an utterance to himself than a direct question to Prompto, the latter is more than welcome to answer. Regardless, the young man's prayers shall be tended to, to help ease some of that fidgeting energy that Markus can't help but notice-]

...Think you can grab a few plates for me?

[mercurio]

On it!

[it's like a switch's been turned flipped, and prompto's immediately kicking himself out of his stillness (for prompto? wow), and looking through the cupboards for anything that may resemble a plate or two.]

First, you get yourself some magic, some guns, and swords and spears. That, along with the power of friendship, the catoblepas wouldn't even see it coming.

[he seems pretty satisfied with himself, ultimately finding the plates on the last drawer he looks into, pulling them out and onto the counter close to markus.]

It's very tiring work, though.

[saviorexe]

[He was right, then. Prompto is like a coiled spring, eager to jump into action — whether that’s just how he is, or if it’s because of the strange unease of new circumstances, still remains to be seen. The plates are placed close by, and Markus lists off another task for him—]

Silverware, too, if you don’t mind.

[He’s going to place divvy up pieces of the chicken to go on each plate, thinking about what Prompto’s told him about hunting a 150 ft. creature. Impressive, even if the other couches it in the words of an afterschool special.]

The power of friendship? You called it tiring, but you’re already making it sound easy. What do you prefer to use in your hunts?

[mercurio]

Silverware incoming.

[have you had any meal so extra before?]

[prompto goes off to find silverware, ending up with the necessary items and setting them down on the counter.]

My buds and I, we'd hunt together. A team of four was the perfect amount.

[that much he'll attest to.] My weapon of choice? Gun, definitely. I'm no good at swords and daggers like my friends are.

[saviorexe]

[Never so extra, never has he had such a spry helper! Connor is always eager to aid him, but the other android sometimes just gets in the way and burns things that shouldn’t be burnt.

At any rate, Prompto returns with the silverware, and Markus is handing him a plate of perfectly-cut chicken. There are side-dishes laid out on countertops nearby, to be added as seen fit — some prepared by Markus, some by others in the safe house. But it’ll all be appetizing for someone so hungry.]

Here. Help yourself.

[They can finish the conversation about hunting and the means of doing so after they sit down to eat.]

[mercurio]

This looks really good--

[the plate he has on his hands right now, prompto thinks he could cry, but his stomach beats him to it, rumbling loudly. he has the decency--which his body doesn't seem to have--to look sheepish, picking at side dishes without much thought on what the ingredients are proper.]

Thank you!

[he remembers to pipe out, putting down a mush of what looks like potatoes and something else onto his plate. so much better than beans, but even if they were beans, he doesn't think he'd complain too much.]

You gonna be eating too?

[it makes sense, right?]

[saviorexe]

[It’s not long before Markus settles the main course on his own plate, moving easily to where the side dishes can be moderately piled on. He doesn’t look at Prompto while he does so, but the curve of a smile is easily discerned from his profile.]

Of course. I haven’t had anything today — the safehouse is always... well, it’s always a busy day when we’re met with fresh new faces.

[Food gathered, silverware in hand, Markus turns and does look at the other this time, before steps away while beckoning him to follow.]

Let’s sit and eat. And chat for a while, since I’m sure you still have plenty of questions.