meadowlarklogs | ARRIVAL LOG #027

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ARRIVAL LOG #027

WHO: Everyone!
WHERE: A hotel in the financial district for all training. For the Displaced who were around for Anime Naex, it's the same hotel! Later, it all comes together for a big competition concert in the New Amsterdam Stadium.
WHEN: July 22, 2512 for the big show!
WHAT: Auditions for a singing competition, as well as new arrivals!
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy, second-hand embarrassment via singing competitions.

> ARRIVAL LOG #027

Awareness comes to you in blurred snatches, cloudy fragments of sound, light, color, and sensation. It's hard to grasp onto anything but a series of rhythmic beeps, a medicinal astringent smell, and the sensation of movement beneath you. Your eyes are heavy and you struggle to keep them open, but in the glimpses between slow blinks, you see a man in front of you dressed in all white. There isn't any other visibility. Not yet.

You realize there are others with you who are dressed the same way as you. To your left there's an armored interior door, two more people visible, and large, hulking buildings passing by through the window. 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.

When the vehicle stops, a nurse steps into view. His jaw is set as he pulls the IV out of your arm. The movement is harsh, sudden, like he's not taking care to be gentle with it. He's on the clock, it seems.

The nurse opens up the van's door soon after, and he steps out, monitoring the way the two heavily armed soldiers yank you out. The first of them speaks: "Get 'em out—the orders on high say that we're not supposed to stick around too long. Something about us having some heat on our necks." It's a woman from the sound of her voice, and she's irritated, impatient. This job is already weird enough, right? Now there's tension.

Both the guards and the nurse don't waste any time after that. They take care of the IVs and get everyone lined up. "Now listen to us. You're going to head around to the front door of that gaudy bar with all the red lighting. Go inside. They'll know what to do with you. Ask them about the glow if you're not sure." At this time, you'll notice others like you: all dressed in tank tops and a pair of shorts, along with neon-colored flip flops. Given that it's warm as hell outside, the clothes fit.

With the orders given, the guards pile back into the van and pull off into the sky, hitting the road. The road, of course, is in the sky. For the newcomers, it's better to head into the bar like directed. Well, it's not like you have any choice in the matter.

◉ 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 message that comes this time is a picture of the shorts-wearing newcomers being funneled into the van, likely from their original destination. There aren't any words, just the picture itself. It can't be traced, but does appear to come from a different, anonymized source than the previous messages.

Did something change?

> THE STATE OF NEW AMSTERDAM

Out of the alley and around to the front, the newcomers will find a city that is in the process of rebuilding itself. While New Amsterdam has seen better days, it's starting to regain some of its more pristine gleam that it especially tends to acquire in the summer time.

Despite that, New Amsterdam has been through a lot—so much that it's almost impossible to summarize it all. The city's seen a lot of tragedy between giant kaiju attacks, people being hit with a rage sickness, an EMP that killed lots of people, and a vengeance-driven simulation put on by a very angry AI. And this was all New Amsterdam alone. Most recently, the entire world was hit by a monster attack, with the monsters pouring out of unknown crevices beneath every city. Oddly enough, New Amsterdam fared the best throughout the attacks because of the intervention from the strange people with the blue glowing chests (known to each other colloquially as "the Displaced").

Ah, the Displaced. These people have had a presence in New Amsterdam for a while. First, they were the weirdos who inspired messages from the NAPD to remind people that vigilantism is a bad idea after they took out a kaiju all by themselves. Later, they were creeping into medical wings and heading up into the floating pyramid outside of the city to help bring the environmental grid around the world back online. Over time, they've become known, but a lot of the footage of their deeds kept disappearing from the internet. After the simulation where their powers were key to causing little glitches throughout the experience, the Displaced became more widely known. And most recently? They've come out as a group in connection to the bar they run. (Oh, yes, the very same bar that everyone got dropped off at today.) As a result of that, the public has started calling them the "Red Wings."

There has been a group that has quietly appreciated the Displaced for a while. Around September 2511, little shrines started sprouting up around the city depicting the Displaced. While many of these shrines were simple in nature, made up of candles and a simple piece of art portraying someone with a blue shape coming out of their chest, others were beautiful murals, lavish in every way. These murals sell for a lot of money, but the people buying them don't seem to know why these paintings are a big deal.

Are the Displaced worthy of shrines and attention? Debatable. The people connected to the shrines think they're either touched by god, gods themselves, or carrying something god-like within them. These people tend to be marked with sacred geometry tattoos. They aren't in the majority in the city by any means, but they were the first "fans" of the Displaced. Now that the Displaced are becoming known (not for being people from another world, but for their feats to help the city and their glowing blue chests), their shrines are getting more notice.

There does appear to be some basis of truth in what these worshippers believe. The Displaced are connected to weird underground structures that help them fast travel around the globe. They've also had prophetic dreams, as well as some dreams of the past. They've also rewritten reality via a different dreaming experience. Oh, and don't forget the massive amount of greenery growing around New Amsterdam, turning it into one-part rain forest, one part massive metropolitan city. That happened directly after the Displaced returned from a pocket dimension.

Along the way, the Displaced have made some enemies, but whether they're truly considered a threat is still yet to be seen. The UN recently released a statement making it abundantly clear that they aren't fans. There are also mysterious people in shadows hiring mercenaries to move the Displaced around—both in their initial drop offs, as well as during an event. Mercenaries in this world tend to be arms of corporations because they're the ones with the big credits to spend. Of course, corporations are the ruling power in this world.

The most notable of the corporations at the moment is Riverstone. A former entertainment mogul in the 20th and 21st centuries, Riverstone eventually began to broaden their interests prior to World War III. Most recently, they offered to perform tests on the Displaced in exchange for some information. Riverstone has a mild presence in New Amsterdam, but has a symbiotic relationship with the United Nations in their capital city, New Beijing.

Perhaps it's better that New Amsterdam isn't in Riverstone's sights, and instead it's the Displaced themselves. Thanks to New Amsterdam's ability to recover more quickly after the recent monster attacks, they're beginning to move forward on a progressive agenda set out by newly-elected Governor Joseph Lynch and his right hand, Lieutenant Governor Amabel Delafield-Chapin. Part of their agenda involves affordable housing, a way to maintain a low unemployment rate around the city, and various shelters and locales to help people out of hard times. Some of these things are being put into motion by various Displaced, but they aren't the face of the movement.

It feels important to note that it's hot in New Amsterdam right now. Hot, humid, and unpleasant. There is also water rationing going on. So, you know. That's fun!

> RED WINGS
The newcomers were directed to head into a bar that is on the other side of the alley, and there is only one available: the Displaced-run Red Wings. While Red Wings has looked worse for wear thanks to the recent monster attack, it's starting to look like its old self again. Bright red lights welcome the newcomers inside. The windows have been repaired, and the bar looks like it's in better shape. Thanks to the attack, there are still some cosmetic changes in progress to freshen up the place, getting rid of the booths and replacing them with tables, but this appears to be a work in progress.

Thanks to the recent reveal—or owning up to being strange—Red Wings is hopping right now. While it's not possible for any of the newcomers to see because their implant hasn't been activated yet, there are various baseball and soccer games from around the world playing on projected screens. The bar is standing room only at the moment, but there are various bouncers/guards ready to cart anyone out who's seeming a bit unruly.

Even if business is like this, it's unlikely that the current Displaced will ignore you. So, be ready to ask about the glow.

> WHEN YOU BELIEVE (A SINGING COMPETITION)

The "When You Believe" competition came about due to a rather simple pitch: all 104 megacities send their top three performers to New Rio De Janeiro to compete with one another to determine who is the best singer in 2511. The problem? It's not 2511 anymore. It's not even early 2512. After months of setbacks, the "When You Believe" competition is finally on the road. Ten cities have already picked their top three performers, and New Amsterdam is next!

Now, what is reality TV like in 2512? Invasive. In a world that already has flimsy expectations of privacy, a singing competition like this is meant to give an inside look at the lives of everyone who signs up. Hell, all permissions are granted by the long-ass contract that you sign when you audition. Everyone's forced to sign the contract to even audition, but no one blinks an eye. Terms and conditions were never anyone's favorite thing to read, right? Nothing's changed.

"When You Believe" has your typical singing competition setup: three judges, each willing to be a mentor for their favorites, as well as an extremely charismatic host. The competition's host is Amoli Bhasin, a charming young actress out of New Delhi who's made waves in the last year for her role in the remake of The Bodyguard. (Sensing a theme here? Whitney is huge in the 26th century, all thanks to the Displaced.) While this is her first hosting gig, Amoli calls the shots. Zany ideas? Invasive interviews? Catching auditioners on candid camera? It all comes from her.

The judges pale in comparison to Amoli, but they are: an older folk singer by the name of Raul Vaites, a dancer named Claire Esposito, and the owner of the world-famous record label, SLAMMING records, Drake Miller.

> AUDITIONING
Think you've got what it takes to believe? (Look, even with all the delays, they didn't come up with very good catch phrases.) Well, guess what: Amoli Bhasin has her sights on the Displaced for her competition. She's going to swing by Red Wings two days before the competition starts to let every employee know that she's looking for a star among them. It would be wasteful to come to New Amsterdam and leave without one of their homegrown stars! Come on, Red Wings, show your spirit!

As mentioned before, auditions essentially provide Amoli and the show's producers a ticket to someone's life. But they don't announce this fact or shine a light on it. Seemingly believing that their way of being incredibly invasive is the new normal—and frankly, it's kinda been that way for centuries, so they aren't wrong—they aren't too forthcoming about the fact that anyone who signs up will be in for more than just fifteen minutes of fame.

Once you sign away your right to privacy, Amoli and her camera crew will be everywhere. Waking up? Oh, they got a key to your apartment through the contractual agreement. Taking a shower? Well, they want to see if you have any tattoos! The only thing that remains private is your accounts that you access via your neural implant. Try as they might, these reality TV shows haven't been able to get the rights to access those things freely. Darn!

Outside of the complete loss of freedom, auditioning is shockingly straightforward. The judges don't care about Amoli's need for spectacle and are just here to judge talent. If you're talented and a Displaced? Odds are you'll move forward through the audition process. If you can't sing and you're here for shits and giggles? Well, Amoli's still grateful you gave her the right to see the inside of your apartment … on accident. Unless, you know, you were angling for voyeurism.

If you're interested in having your character audition, sign up below! Let us know there if your character can sing or if they sound like a dying cat. There is a potential for lasting consequences if your character proceeds through the competition, but they won't be in place until after the AU event ends. Unfortunately, any new arrivals in this log will not be able to audition. (Maybe that's for the best?)

> RISING THROUGH THE RANKS
After the audition period ends, the chosen handful will be assigned a mentor in one of the three judges. These mentors specialize in different areas, and they take an interest in who suits them best. Raul prefers musicians who'll play their own instruments, while Drake is really into the 2512-equivalent of your Christina Aguilera or Mariah Carey type. As for Claire, she prefers performers who can dance, even if their singing might be on its way to a lot of auto-tuning on a record. (They'll still need to sing, but if they can move? That'll help.)

All of the auditioners will be put through a rigorous 48-hour musical bootcamp before they have to perform before an audience full of New Amsterdam citizens.

This performance? Oh, it'll take place in the New Amsterdam Stadium that's riiiight across the street from Red Wings. This competition wants to be the real deal. That may be why Amoli is determined to ensure that a member of the Displaced makes it that far.

> VIEWING EXPERIENCE
Throughout the week-long competition, there will be 24 webcasts of the various people auditioning. Amoli will be everywhere in New Amsterdam causing trouble. Even if the city is hot, miserable, and under water rationing restrictions, Amoli doesn't seem to give a damn. It does seem that some of the filming is done via little drones zipping around the city to spy on people. Look, Amoli can't be everywhere at once.

Otherwise, the hotel holding the initial auditions and main bootcamp is open for anyone willing to pay their way in. Prices aren't steep, if only because they want to make it seem like the competition is getting a lot of attention despite the current state of the city (and the world). Impressions are everything!

> THE FINAL SHOWDOWN
Everything culminates in one big show at the New Amsterdam Stadium. Tickets for this leg of the competition are still recently affordable, though no one will be able to get front row seats. All of those seats are reserved for high-level executives from the three major New Amsterdam corporations (Pulsar, Vyonation, and Giles Bell). Governor Joseph Lynch and Lieutenant Governor Amabel Delafield-Chapin were also provided executive suites in order to watch the show.

Three people will advance from this leg in the competition to go forward and compete in the Rio de Janeiro contest later in the year. If Amoli gets her wish, one or more of those three will be a member of the unique group of people with glowing chests.

> MERCHANDISE
As a part of Amoli's pitch, she's working together with local second-hand clothing companies to put out patches and various types of merchandise to let New Amsterdam citizens rep their favorite Believer. These things will be hastily put together, and they won't be cheap. While they aren't charging a lot for tickets to any of the events connected to the competition, they're eager to make up for it via this merchandise.

On top of it, Amoli's being a bit shameless: she's also requested that a few thousand Red Wing pins and patches be made. Even if she can't get a Displaced on her show—and she sure as hell is going to try—she intends to make money off of them!

Hell, if Red Wings isn't gonna do it, that means it's up for grabs!

> SAFEHOUSE

Not long after their arrival, the new Displaced will be brought across the city to an abandoned hover-bike garage in a neighborhood that's clearly seen better days.

Located under said 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. There was a VR system for anyone who'd be hanging around the safehouse for a long time, but it's currently still out for repairs. Unfortunately, the partitions that were setup were destroyed by some viciously digging moles, so privacy is back to being nonexistent down in the safehouse.

◉ New characters will be asked to pick their beds, and be 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 pretty much nonexistent in most of the beverages lying around.

◉ Along those same lines, newcomers will find that this is a world that is steeped in sustainable choices. Paper is a thing of the past. Ever used a bidet regularly? This world gives everyone a crash course in exactly what that feels like if they haven't done that before.

◉ 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, either. Time to sit tight.

◉ New characters will not be allowed to leave the safehouse until JULY 26 (NOVEMBER 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. However, this is when the AU starts, so while characters will know they have to sit tight for four days, they won't be able to explore outside of the safehouse as themselves until after the AU is done.

> 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 to roam free until after the AU event and characters return to their normal selves. (Keep in mind that our sole AU opt-out option is to be brought into the AU but not mentally AUed in. If you take that route with your character, they will of course be able to roam free in that world!)

Before the AU, all characters will appear as @anonymous on the network. While sitting down in the safehouse, it's expected that 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. Of course, then they'll be tossed into an AU, so how's that for a whacky crash course?

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.

The November CR meme for the month is here.

Please check out our November calendar rundown for a look at things happening this month.

As we announced in our calendar, AC will remain halved until at least January 2021. 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!

Finally, take a look at our AU event outline one last time and let us know any questions or concerns you have about it! We'll be posting the full planning post on November 16th, with the first log for the event going live on November 21st.

> NAVIGATION

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

> arrival
(cw: going hard in loss of autonomy, vague references to past trauma)

[ The way Amos sees it - in the limited scope he's capable of at the moment - he has two options: fight like hell, kill as many of these fuckers as he can before either escaping or going down himself; or just let them keep doing what they're doing.

He opts for the first one.

He realizes he can't, his brain only flirting with long-ingrained instinct his body and dulled mind can't properly keep up with. He has to go with the second one.

That is, maybe, when he starts to freak out.

The IV being ripped out of his arm is welcome - a jolt of feeling, mild pain, but it's violent and he's familiar with that - but the armed soldiers are not. He doesn't care what they're saying; all he knows is they're in control of him, overpowering him, and he wants nothing more than to take one of their guns and let whatever happens after happen.

Except he can't.

He feels the flip flops on his feet more than anything. It's strange, not having boots on. It's also incredibly inconvenient, because trying to fight someone in flimsy footwear really isn't an option, and he doesn't want to take them off and step on something on the ground that's just going to inhibit him--

Now listen to us catches his attention, and everything thereafter - especially when he starts walking, completely out of his control.

His heartbeat spikes and his vision tunnels. He maybe gets a second to twist his head around, look up into the sky as whoever the fuck kidnapped and drugged him just leaves. He barely notices the others around him. He can hear the blood rushing through him as fight or flight kicks in except he's never known flight and he has no options and he's equal parts heading to whatever this bar is, ready to commit mass fucking murder if only he could get his hands on the right people the right weapon, and his brain filling with ever-darkening static as he mentally falls deeper and deeper and deeper into a place he does not want to go was never going to go to again went there for a moment on Ilus Holden pulled him out Holden isn't here he's bigger now he's stronger this should not be happening he was not going to let it happen ever again it is happening again he is completely fucking powerless again--

His nostrils flare, his breathing heavy, his fists clench and unclench rhythmically at least he still has those as he walks. ]

> red wings

[ His head clears. Slightly. As he steps inside, stops walking, realizes he has control over his own legs again. He takes in the new sights and sounds, vision gradually clearing, static dissipating as he realizes that despite the number of people here, they don't seem to be like the ones who brought him here. Nobody is armed. Nobody is doing anything to him (or making him do something).

He doesn't relax - he's still tense all over, he's still ready to commit homicide at a moment's notice - but he's maybe pulled back up from the depths.

And then the echo of a voice he has now committed to memory wants to rip out their larynx reverberates in his skull: ask about the glow.

What the fuck is the glow?

And who the fuck is he supposed to ask?

A notion comes to him: if someone speaks to him here, will they be able to control him? His heartbeat picks up again. He's thankful he doesn't know who he's supposed to ask because he knows if he did he would.

Amos looks over his shoulder. Is there anything just stopping him from leaving? He takes an experimental step forward. Nope.

But he's also in flip flops, with no idea of what's outside, and what's in here seems relatively low threat for now.

He finds himself drifting to a corner, a little away from the crowds, where at least he's pretty sure nobody will sneak up behind him. He can at least establish that much security for himself. And then he watches, waiting and tensed for something else to happen. ]

> safehouse

[ When he's asked to pick his bed, he forcefully goes to one in the corner. He's still stressed out about having to blindly obey, but at least he had a choice here, and two walls are better than none.

He does not move from it, disregarding the other items he's been given, and eventually, blessedly, falls asleep.

When he wakes up again he feels free in a way he hadn't known he'd been missing and prays that means that shit is over with.

Right, down to business then.

He quickly learns he's trapped down here.

Underground.

In an unknown, dark location.

Great.

But nothing is actually happening to him now, so maybe - maybe - this time, he'll be okay.

Amos settles in as best he can, which mostly consists of sitting on the edge of his cot, watching everyone else around him with a vaguely threatening aura that fades the more time passes and the more nothing actually happens. He's not going to relax - not here - but now that he isn't being forced anywhere or to do anything against his will, he's significantly less stressed.

Except for, well. ]

Hey. [ His voice is soft; his words are hard. ] Do you know when we're getting the fuck out of here?

> wildcard

[ Amos is, unfortunately, deeply traumatized and more reactive than proactive in this situation. But I'm open to literally anything if you want to try something else out! Hit me up on Discord at arii#6412 or PM me on this account. ]

Edited 2020-11-15 01:55 (UTC)

[ It's not the first time that Ephemera's come around the safehouse in some vague attempt to be helpful. He might not be very good at it, but he's been thinking about his family lately. About what Hunter would have done in this place, if their positions had been reversed. If Hunter hadn't gone insane before the end. Hunter died with the others and then CT went off and died alone, in the desert.

He would have been kind, Ephemera thinks. His brother would have been kind.

It doesn't come naturally to Ephemera. He has a tendency to say the wrong things, use the wrong tone. Or his scars freak people out.

He tries, though. He swings by and answers questions and sometimes he gets people groceries. Small things. Maybe they matter, maybe they don't, but it feels important to try. So he shows up just like all those times before, his hands still wrapped from his last bout at the club. He cleaned the blood off, but he's got a nasty cut digging into his face, right over his bad eye, and what feels like bruised ribs. Maybe a sprained wrist. The medic at the club patched him up just fine and told him to rest. Ephemera waved it off, said it would. And he will, later. Once he's finished his work.

He'll live, regardless, but it's got him in a twitchy mood. His bad eye's been bothering him, enough that he took the prosthetic out and slapped a bandage over it. An obvious weakness, something an enemy will take advantage of if they think to.

But he doesn't have any of those here. Or at least not right now.

He narrows his good eye at the voice, lifting his head. ]

The 26th.

[ Ephemera's dressed in loose, dark clothes. Easy to move in, easy to conceal weapons in. A leather jacket for makeshift armor. And he recognizes that stillness in other man. That hard look. Someone who's sizing up the moment like they're going to war. Like they're ready for it to turn vicious.

Just like him, once. Ephemera doesn't smile or bare his teeth. He watches the man carefully, his hands open and loose at his sides. ]

When the IDs come through.

[ Amos cocks his head and narrows his eyes at Ephemera, taking in his appearance. The clothes, a sign that he could be ready for any physical altercation. The missing eye, a sign that he's practiced enough to survive - although that it's still missing is curious.

The open hands, loose at the sides, a universal sign that he's not a threat.

Amos relaxes slightly. Stops white knuckling the edge of his cot like he'd been before. Sits up a little straighter. ]

That's days away.

[ An end date is a nice target to have, at least. Does a little to lessen his stress. Not a lot, but it's a light at the end of the tunnel to look towards, and he needs that light. ]

They treat everyone who comes here this kindly? [ The sarcasm is dripping. He waves a hand vaguely in the direction of their bare bones, barely hospitable surroundings. ]

[ Okay. Guy doesn't looked prime to rush Ephemera just yet. That might change. Everyone's on edge here, taking stock of things. Looking for the threat or looking for ways to protect themselves. It's only natural. Morningstar leaves the knives out in the kitchen and Ephemera snagged one the first chance he got, back when he first got dumped into this mess. So far he hasn't heard of anyone getting stabbed, but there's always a first time.

It's not hard to hurt someone with a knife. It's not hard at all. And maybe not everyone sizes up a stranger and tries to feel out what sort of threat they'd be, but Ephemera's known there's something fragmented in him for a long time.

He's better than he was. And this isn't home. Most of the time he remembers that. ]

Uh huh.

[ Ephemera tips his head to the side. ]

It's better than prison.

[ Amos snorts. ] And this isn't a prison?

[ He would. Not handle prison well. He knows that. But it's not like he's handling this well, either. He's barely hanging on by a thread. He's trying, but he keeps mixing up his memories with the present - something about not being allowed to leave a dark, enclosed space will do that to him.

At least he's not special in being treated this way. That's probably a good sign.

He looks Ephemera up and down, like he's a new colleague or something. He's passively intrigued about the whole eye thing, but he'd never actually ask. Not his business. ]

What'd you do, when they let you out of here? [ Maybe he'll do something similar. Also, further reassurance that he actually will be let out is something to dig for. The longer this goes on, the less he believes it, even if he does have a release date now. ]

[ Ephemera snorts at that, though he doesn't laugh. He doesn't let it go sharp. That's not the point here. ]

It's really not.

[ Or at least it's not the Tartarus. Small favors and all that. It could be worse. It has been worse. Best not to spring that on the newbies, though. Give them a chance to get used to the idea before bringing up the whole simulated reality nightmare they all got stuck in not so long ago.

He watches the man for a moment, then shrugs. Keeps his stance loose, his tone even. ]

Work. Got a place with a roommate and everything. You want me to get you stuff? I do grocery runs for people.

[ It's really not makes him still.

He's been through all sorts of hell before; his current setting is nearly identical to his first one, years and years ago. But nothing bad has happened since he was brought down here, and that's different.

The possibility of there still being worse out there strikes him. Logically, he probably knew that. Emotionally, he's still trying to leave his past behind, and here, that's a hard thing to do.

He comes back to himself. ]

So, just life like normal, then? [ Not normal. A new normal for him, at least. ] And nah. I'm good with what they've got here. Unless you've got any recommendations.

amos burton | the expanse | ota

Safehouse

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red wings!

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safehouse wildcard

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