meadowlarklogs | ARRIVAL LOG 004

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Either she laughs or she'll shut down, retreat into herself the way she's used to, silently observing and taking everything in for herself until she can forge some sort of plan. In a sense, she's already doing that, though she has no real idea of how she'll even figure out how to leave given that her lack of knowledge outweighs anything else.

There are others here, those who weren't part of her original group, faces that are newer to her in terms of the last few hours, and they all seem... not resigned to their situation, necessarily, but calmer, more adjusted, in possession of more answers at this point.

Gaby doesn't realize her hand has drifted up to toy with the shorn ends of her hair until she's already doing it, and she drops her hand quickly. ] It would certainly give us something to do while we're expected to stay here.

[Part of why Clarke is here at all is because she's a doer. She could wait at the side, but there's an itch to throw herself into people's ways and try to involve herself in whatever it is that other people are up to at the time. She can barely help it.

It's what drives her here. Now. Joking about alcohol. Maybe she can go buy some for Gaby after this. Something cheap.]

I agree. Though there are water restrictions right now, so the aftermath may not be so fun. ["Fun."

Still:] Do you have a preference?

[ It's a quality Gaby can only appreciate, because it's one she bears herself to a certain degree, unable to simply stand by and let things happen but needing to throw herself into the fray as an active participant, often to the chagrin of her partners who haven't anticipated her making those sorts of moves to begin with.

Either way, she appreciates the forthrightness, the willingness to talk about what's been going on; it helps paint a somewhat clearer picture, even if the final portrait is going to be very overwhelming. ]

Preferences? [ Oh. Alcohol. ] Vodka, whiskey. [ This tiny German half-asses nothing, especially when it comes to her liquor. ] But I've learned it's best not to be too picky.

I know the last part. [Clarke may be young—visibly so—but she says that with a lot of confidence. It's the confidence of someone who knows the taste of moonshine, of long forgotten whisky, and of drinking whatever you can get your hands on because there's very little else to manage.

But ... mostly the moonshine.]

I'll see what I can do for you.

[A beat. Another one.]

I'm Clarke, by the way. Clarke Griffin. Since ... I guess I'm plying you with alcohol, I should probably say as much.

Thank you.

[ If it's a remark that sounds as though Gaby is genuinely surprised by the offer, it's because she is, not having expected the young woman — Clarke, as she's introduced herself — to even extend it in the first place. What makes this even more unexpected is that it doesn't appear to come with any kind of condition.

So there's a slightly bemused smile on her lips as she nods, once. ] Gaby Teller. I suppose I'm not the only one of those around here, considering the one we're supposed to ask questions to.

Yes, but as far as I've looked into her—[because Clarke is that type of person]—no one in this city is carting around a single name, no surname. I think I'll be able to remember you. Unless I happened to look in the wrong places. [She works at the hospital, so she does get some access.

Besides, this particular Gaby isn't going to be grilled for details or looked at as if she can't be trusted by Clarke. Big difference.

And at this point, Clarke has decided that difference matters, because she can be as stubborn as a mule.]

Were you given the spiel otherwise? Alcohol aside. Touching, glowing chests, the works—do you know all of that?

[ Well, she certainly appreciates the lack of grilling, Clarke, at least for the time being. She's still trying to figure out how open to be with everyone here, save Illya — there are certain parts of her life that she knows she's not supposed to be sharing, but other, smaller details likely won't hurt or risk international incident should she choose to reveal them.

As far as this place is concerned, she's Gaby Teller, mechanic recently extracted from behind the Iron Curtain. The rest is need to know only.

As for Clarke's question, that bemusement definitely starts to grow. ] I'd heard, but — so it's true? What happens?

[Clarke hums a thoughtful sound, and then extends her hand toward Gaby. Every other time she's tried to explain this to people, she's always come back to physical demonstration. How she feels isn't easy to experience, but her mind is calm, directed, focused. What lies down below has no reason to surface.]

A demonstration would be best. It doesn't need to last long for you to see it.

[ It's with a slightly visible uncertainty in her features that Gaby's curiosity finally wins out, and when Clarke stretches out a hand she moves to do similarly, finally bringing their palms together followed by fingers that curve around in something that could be considered a handshake.

Her own feelings are probably a little harder to parse through, considering the current circumstances; overwhelmed is the most prominent, followed by struggling attempts to calm herself because this isn't the worst thing she's ever experienced, not by a long shot. There's definitely hunger in there somewhere too, and underneath it all the desire to stop feeling so much of everything altogether. ]

[Not surprising. Clarke wishes that "overwhelmed" had lasted long for her, but she doesn't have the luxury of that feeling. She's never had the luxury to drown in it, and the closest she came was to seeing the cityscape and feeling overwhelmed that first night.

There are times when it's still overwhelming. When she's alone, separate from everyone else. When she's not in a place to be relied upon.

So, not here. Not now. She inhales deeply before she draws her hand back, knowing full well that the stirring of emotions will lead her toward a place she doesn't want to go. The blue glow from her chest fades.]

There's no way around that, [she says, tone soft.] No matter what skin contact you make with another person like us, it'll happen.

[ There's a lot to take in — the soft blue glow emanating from both of them, casting their faces in a slightly eerie glow, but that pales in comparison to how Gaby starts to feel: calm, level, more centered, and she somehow knows it's not her own emotions she's experiencing but Clarke's instead, almost simultaneously.

Besides, her own feel slightly dimmed somehow, tempered, though they resurface to mildly unsettle her again the moment Clarke finally withdraws, and Gaby releases a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. ]

Every time?

[How to delicately point out the full degree of the "every time"? As much as they've all experienced this, Clarke knows that no one's really touched on the full ... extent of what that could mean.

And situations.

And experiences.

She draws in a breath and looks away, trying to be casual.]

Yes. Every time. Without fail.

ARRIVAL LOG 004

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