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]

Sounds like my kind of science.

[ hashtag yolo, fuck it up with hands up, et cetera. she is a little sad to lose the granola snack, but maybe she can sneak some more later. as for now... well, she's just going to hold her hands out, palm up, a clear invitation if there ever was one. ]

Ladies don't hold hands and tell, Johnnycakes. [ WHAT A TERRIBLE NICKNAME. ] But nobody's complained yet, so.

[stabilis]

[ He mouths Johnnycakes silently and disparagingly, like she's just physically pained him. ]

Yeah, yet. [ There's still time for him to complain, ok. The irritation's all an act, good-humored. He takes a beat to center his thoughts before reaching out to meet her hands, palms down; light contact, first. Testing to see what it takes to trigger the bond.

The answer is "not much". It flickers to life almost instantly, and she'll catch a current of calm curiosity on his end. ]

[evite]

[ he could have asked. she would have told him as much as she knew — the answer to which is, like the current query, "not much". she knows skin-on-skin in any capacity means feeling things, that the stronger the touch the more dramatic the sensation, and that it feels like being in someone's head without being able to read their minds.

she can tell you how you're feeling, but she doesn't know why. that part requires good old-fashioned conversation. ]

You're such a nerd, [ murmured soft, teasing; the same sort of thing she'd say to fitz or jemma in such a scenario. her hands shift only a fraction of an inch, just enough to adjust the touch, her thumb coming up to brush over the backside of his hand. no pressure (yet), just added sensation.

he'll catch a little spark of intrigue, but daisy's mostly just bemused at the situation. curiosity, to her, feels like electricity; joy and laughter often feel like carbonated bubbles up and down her throat. ]

[stabilis]

Guilty. [ There's a tickle of amusement in the connection, Johnny shifting his hands slightly to make her movements easier. He takes a pointed second to make eye contact — because yes, he is a nerd, and he's very supportive of ethical experimentation without too many surprises — then lightly grips her hands in his.

It's weird. Not bad. Johnny's never really had a problem with feelings, and this just feels like turning the natural ability to read the room up to five hundred; no guesswork, no leaning on experience to understand someone's mood. The connection's smooth, too, thanks in part to their mutual cool and focus.

It doesn't get more intense so much as it gets more nuanced. His calm doesn't feel like a wall; it's open, an easy vulnerability that's got no resistance or tension. After a quiet pause, ] I really should've bought you dinner first, huh.

[ Kidding. But also, acting like this isn't weirdly personal would be way more awkward. ]

[evite]

Who said you can't have dessert first?

[ blurring the line between strictly science and exploration for curiosity's sake, sure, but a little innuendo never hurt anybody. his hands on hers are sturdy, strong, but the grip is gentle enough to avoid putting too much pressure on her knuckles or bowing her fingers in. a practiced grip. she appreciates that.

her head tips back after a moment, lips pursing to blow an errant strand of hair away from her eyes; when she levels her gaze on his again, there's a bit of quiet wonder coloring the edges of her words, a hint of cool air that tempers the warmth of the connection just a bit. ]

But the real question: are you asking if you can buy me dinner, Mr Jaqobis, or just pointing out the obvious?

[stabilis]

[ The line gets a warm smile, and there's no blip of regret or indecision in the link. What there is: a slow churn of grief, fond and longing and restrained. It's oddly distant, like something cool to the touch. He isn't fighting the link, but there are walls here, anyway; the kind you build up yourself so you can function and move on. Or fake it, at least.

His expression falters slightly, thoughtful and bemused. ]

I'm guessing I don't have to say it's complicated. [ Except there's a big difference between casual flirting and something real, so: ] But if you really want dinner, I can do dinner. And not to ruin the moment, but — what are you feeling? It's all abstract, right?

[evite]

Newsflash: we're all pretty fucking complicated.

[ it's said with a smile, but it's truth all the same. the sensation is subtle, a delicate thread of sadness that seems to parallel to daisy's own. it's a feeling that triggers sense memories, and she exhales at the weight of it in her chest. it feels like loss: of something pure, someone important, but a loss whose sharp edges have been filed down by the ebb and flow of time.

she thinks of lincoln, and wonders if that means something. ]

Kind of. [ it isn't subtitled or narrated. she doesn't know if she's right all of the time, or if what she's feeling is her own or theirs. ] Everything feels like something. Happiness, sadness, fear. Anger's a big one. Sometimes it's more ... abstract, yeah, but you can understand it, I guess.

[ she's not being very clear. her own doubt rises up. ]

I can recognize the feelings because I've felt them before. Fear, in my stomach, or rage in my chest — happiness is warm, all over. Sadness —

[ daisy sighs. ]

You know what sadness feels like.

[stabilis]

[ The echo's — interesting. It doesn't feel like feedback or higher volume, doubling down on his own emotions. It's just familiar, like meeting like, and there's an odd comfort in it. Which means... nothing, probably. That's just how humans operate. Nobody wants to feel like they're alone. ]

Yeah. It feels shitty. [ She won't need the link to know the flippancy's shallow. There's too much sympathy and respect in his voice to make the dismissive words carry, and he gives them both another second to settle into the connection — or to let that mutual ache settle, more likely — before moving forward. ]

I'm going to try focusing on a specific memory. I'm guessing it'll be more bare emotions and old-fashioned intuition, but let me know if there's anything else. Ready?

[evite]

Yeah, I'm ready.

[ it's a soft murmur of agreement, her own hands flexing slightly in his grasp. the shift in attention feels like a refocusing of a lens; her body turns just so, as if to center opposite him, standing as parallel as possible as his mind shifts from thought to thought. she's not trying, not really, but there's an undeniable curiosity — a need to know — that flows through the connection from her end to his. ]

Do you always take this long to get to the good stuff?

[ poor timing, perhaps, but a little off-balance humor to lighten the mood never hurt anyone. yet. ]

[stabilis]

[ His head cocks slightly, amusement sparking in the connection. No such thing as bad timing when it comes to bad jokes!! ] Be patient.

[ A little teasing, and a beat later he closes his eyes to focus — sifting through memories, avoiding intense, awkward eye contact while he dwells on personal crap. Same thing. There's a strange, muddled quality to his emotions as his thoughts drift from one to the next, all of it muted.

The one he settles on is clear, at first. Happiness, relief, gratitude. It's Pree's wedding, one last hurrah before an oncoming storm. And while the affection and celebration are real, pure threads of emotion that are easy to follow, there's too much in the before and after for it not to leak through — grief, resignation. The grim determination that goes hand-in-hand with a final fight.

None of it really shows in his expression. When he opens his eyes, he squints at her slightly, unsure. ] Any guesses?

[evite]

[ the feeling is clear enough — warmth spreads across her body, heat that seeps from the center of her chest into each limb, until the patch of skin that connects her body to his tingles from the pleasure of it, and daisy exhales in appreciation, her face lifting up to find his gaze hidden behind closed eyes.

the warmth never quite fades, but the buoyancy does. it drops out from beneath her a moment later, heavy sorrow and grief an anchor being flung into her stomach without warning; it leaves her toppling and off-balance, stumbling to the side a bit as she struggles to find her center again. ]

Wow, [ a quiet mutter, an understatement. when daisy's eyes find his, there's surprise in them. ] I don't — I don't think I've ever felt anything like that.

[ has she? an uncomfortable family dinner comes to mind, unbidden — just as smoothly, a mix of emotions returns across the bridge to johnny's side. wonder, excitement, the relief in finally getting answers; discomfort, too, anxiety, sad resignation at the way things must go.

her mouth pulls into a straight line, her own poker face not nearly as good as his. ]

Well. Not exactly like that.

[stabilis]

[ So it's just backed up by old-fashioned empathy, then. Deja vu if you've been somewhere similar, and intuition — but no extra insights, no glimpses into an actual thought process or memories. Johnny offers a small, apologetic smile at her surprise, and his reply's interrupted by the slow sweep of her emotions.

It feels like a tide, washing out and coming back with something new; close, but not quite. His brow furrows slightly as he focuses on the new emotions, the sharp nerves and resignation and... relief. It's a strange mix, but it isn't completely alien. It reminds him of half of his reunions with D'av. Blind faith and hope and idolization tangled up with disappointment and anxiety, and eventually? Resignation. Giving up.

It reminds him of his father, too. Dim, dull, way more tilted to the unhappy side of the scale. But it's there. ]

Not exactly, but... [ This isn't about the science. This is simple curiosity, cautious. ] Family?

[ When it comes down to it, that's what his first memory had been about, too. Family and conflict. If he's on the right track, then she isn't as far off as she might think. ]

[evite]

Yeah. [ a shrug of her shoulders; family is complicated, her own especially so. daisy's gone a long way from supposed orphan to now, and though she doesn't claim emotional ties to the people she now knows gave her life, they're still a part of her. the loss of them means something, even if she wishes it didn't. ] Family.

[ there's enough similarity in the give-and-take of the empathy bond's emotional current that daisy thinks it's safe to assume his memories are colored by the complications of family too, that maybe they share more than just the blue glow in their chests on that topic.

this time, daisy chooses a memory consciously. it's a distant one, separated from the current day by many years and many trials in between, but the clarity of the emotional connection shows just how vividly daisy still remembers it, how many times she's replayed it in her mind. it's a happy memory — and so the connection is warm, happiness and a soft undercurrent of surprise gently flooding between them. but more interestingly, there's curiosity too, bright and clear, interspersed with novelty as the memory fades away.

riding in a flying car with the father figure she never dreamed she'd have was a memory daisy clung to like a precious inheritance. perhaps not something she might otherwise have shared, but it does lend the question — does the joy of a found family feel the same? ]

What about this one, then?