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meadowlarklogs2020-11-21 12:11 pm
- !event log,
- dceu: diana prince,
- dogs b&c: nill,
- doom patrol: larry trainor,
- dragon age: cassandra pentaghast,
- dragon age: marian hawke,
- marvel comics: wade wilson,
- mcu: stephen strange,
- mcu: tony stark,
- original: ian fowler,
- overwatch: soldier 76 (jack morrison),
- red vs. blue: terrence ephemera,
- she-ra: glimmer,
- star trek: elim garak,
- star wars: jyn erso,
- supernatural: dean winchester,
- supernatural: sam winchester,
- the 100: clarke griffin,
- the 100: john murphy,
- the 100: lexa,
- the boys: homelander,
- the last of us: ellie,
- the old guard: andy,
- the old guard: booker,
- the old guard: joe,
- the vampire diaries: kai parker,
- uncharted: nathan drake,
- xena: callisto
EVENT #011
WHERE: The Aerie, a different world.
WHEN: Late July 2512.
WHAT: The first log of our AU event, taking place in an AU world that puts on battle royale events to cull the massive overpopulation.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Overwritten minds, horrible dystopian conditions, and more!
On the morning of July 26th, every living person on Earth will be spirited away from where they were mere moments before. Just like that. Hover cars will descend slowly in transit, trains will come to a stop without a screech of their breaks, and the streets throughout every single of the 104 megacities will be left barren, empty, and lifeless. Even those lost and hidden, not seen for months, are swept gently away with the rest of their brethren. No stone will go unturned.
The world upon their return may pick up where it's left off, or it will be changed in some way. Will it be July 26th when everyone finds themselves back where they were standing before? Or will something else happen during this time? Now that the supposed lifeblood of this planet is gone, what will happen in their absence? The world may not be able to go on how it had been.
Perhaps the more terrifying question is this: if something is powerful enough to steal away every person, every single one capable of thought, ideas, conflict, war, and more, what else could happen?
Perhaps it's for the best that it may be awhile before anyone has to worry about that.
For now, they've entered a world that's one week away from its next Quarry event: a place where The Aerie's criminals fight to prove they deserve to keep their life.
The Aerie is a structure that should not exist.
Made of steel and concrete, it gives off the impression that its guts were arranged haphazardly, as if an amateur surgeon had pulled them out and tried to put them back in again. Steel beams stretch out between buildings, connecting them together. There may have been a wall of concrete around this beam once upon a time, but it splintered and fell away, exposing its insides and opening up a pathway that people have taken for granted in the past fifty to a hundred years. Power lines hang in loose tangles throughout this little world, ready to fall away at the slightest breeze, then splinter and spark.
Most of the insides of The Aerie are barely preserved. Trying to do that would be an impossible task: there are too many people, too many who live in concrete layered on one another like stacks of broken shelves, too many who pass through open maws of ruptured pathways, crawling up onto the roof of a business for what they think is a shortcut to a higher level. Brittle walls that splinter off into clouds of chalky white dust are everywhere and anywhere.
How The Aerie came together was once a majestic feat: a place for people to live, thrown together as extinction surged forward like a towering beast on the horizon. There was a mix of minds behind the action, as well as a hollow sense of desperation. Even those who brought The Aerie into being knew that their lives were on the line. It was a matter of "make this work" or die. So, they made it work.
What's truly impossible about The Aerie isn't the hulking structures merged together at all manner of impossible angles, but the outer layer of this little world, looming overhead in shimmering, constant glory. The people of The Aerie are protected, safe; the world outside is a nebulous, uncertain mess of greys and greens and reds and blues. Storms surge just outside of the wall of The Aerie with sharp, constant bolts of lightning that batter the surface overhead. Once upon a time, the people of this little world feared those bolts cutting through and destroying their home. But it's been long enough now. No one lives in fear of what's outside, and no one wonders, not anymore. After all, the people who made it outside were never seen again. For a time, some people could watch through the clear walls as these escapees' bodies turned to irradiated mush with only bones left behind. In time, those bones withered away to dust. And with them, their memories were forgotten.
Within The Aerie, life goes on, just as it must: riddled with fear, with survival often depending on the ability to escape notice.
Only two parts of The Aerie remain unscathed, untouched by the passage of time and haphazard construction of this refuge:
The Volary, which stands tall and pristine at the heart of The Aerie. Lights burn within The Volary all day and all night, showing signs of life that most of the people outside of its walls will never see for themselves.
And then the Quarry, a structure built in haste and out of necessity. The same people who brought The Aerie together also made the Quarry. At its base are a series of office buildings, setting up monthly arena events where the guilty fight to show that they deserve to survive.
These two things are the source of all the fear in The Aerie. It's what keeps everyone's mind off the crumbling walls, the storms outside, and the miserable, unending passage of time.
When The Aerie came into being, so did The Volary. Far from fragmented like the rest of this tiny, tiny world, it stands pristine, with brown bricks lining its exterior, and strong steel beams holding it strong within. Either through its making or its care, The Volary hasn't suffered from the hands of time like the rest of the world. Anyone outside of The Volary doesn't know the truth, though they could likely guess.
Inside of The Volary lives the members of Parliament: the newly-joined Magpies, the comfortable Rooks, and the looming and most powerful, the Cardinals.
The Cardinals live at the very top. Even after over two hundred years, the Cardinals remain impenetrable. New members are accepted into their ranks from time to time, granted secrets of a bygone era, but the rest of the world remains ignorant to their knowledge. At the heart of this structure is a cult, a belief system; they are the ones who decide if The Aerie lives or dies. For now, it continues to live. Of course, any other path would lead to their devastation as well. They may be nearly immortal, but they aren't truly untouchable and eternal.
Beneath them are the rest of Parliament, cocky in their comfort. Many were born into it, but some were raised into the ranks, finding their own footholds. Sometimes these elevations seem random; sometimes these promotions happen with purpose, with someone driving to catch the eye of a Rook who's looking for someone like-minded to have around them.
Outside of the Magpies, the Rooks that were once Magpies, and the once-members of The Congregation outside, everyone seems blissfully ignorant of the dilapidated world outside. There are some workers from the outside world who know, and some Carrion lucky to have their place among the elite—but there is a sense that some things shouldn't be spoken about, or else they may need to be responsible for it all. While the outside begins to age without any sign of renewal, this compound lives on—untouched, unbothered.
The Volary is set up in levels. The very bottom is where all the businesses that serve the people up above are located. It's where animals are raised and butchered, and where food is prepared before it's brought up to the upper levels. There are numerous common areas, but these can be rented out for any whim of any members of Parliament. Even the businesses themselves can be shuttered for the day, with preferred chefs invited to the upper levels to prepare meals to deal with these circumstances. (Someone from the Congregation can train as a chef in the Cotillion, even if they've never handled food of this nature their entire lives. It's a good job to have, as a number of favored chefs have been elevated to Magpies.)
Beyond the shops is the first level of living quarters for the various members of Parliament. Many Magpie and Rook suites are side by side, though some Rooks prefer not to be housed next to a newcomer and have made their preference known throughout the years. These suites are designed and adapted to its inhabitant's every need, and if someone is born into the family, they inherit their family's suite once someone dies. How is it that there could be space for all the members of Parliament, and so little room outside of the walls of this compound? Consider that yet another question that members of Parliament don't need to concern themselves with.
At the uppermost levels are the suites belonging to the Cardinals. Unless explicitly invited, no one is allowed onto these floors. Numerous Carrion have died throughout the years because they wandered up the wrong set of stairs, knowing that risk was looming over them.
And at the very top is where The Conclave meets. Newly elected members of Parliament visit this room once to receive their powers, only they recall nothing. No one knows what happens within the inner walls of The Conclave. Some have attempted to spy throughout the years. Needless to say, that didn't go well.
The Volary is the home of the pampered, the rich: the people who can ignore the dying world beyond them. Even those inheriting a sense of importance feel as if they've done enough—when they clearly don't do enough. At least those stuck outside may find themselves walking through the heavy front doors of this compound one day. Too bad it's based upon the powers of Parliament, and whether they deign to let someone inside. The only good news is that someone can be buzzed in via their power. That gives a real personal touch, right?
Outside of The Volary, The Aerie is set up in sectors, these sectors acting like rings that move further and further from The Volary up and down throughout The Aerie. Almost by necessity, the rings closer to The Volary are populated by Parliament's favorites. The upkeep around here is better: not pristine, but far from as bad as it gets as someone travels to the outer sectors. Many who have made a name for themselves in the Quarry live in these inner sectors, close to the people of Parliament. Many believe that the inner sectors are still tended to because members of Parliament would hate to face up to the fact of their world dying, and it may not be far from the truth.
In addition to better upkeep, the inner sectors experience less Shrike patrols, with the people allowed to live a life that allows them to remain ignorant to the world around them. They may not be Parliament, but their life in these sectors affords them the feeling of comfort. They don't have to fear their ceiling caving in; they don't have to fear a pipe bursting at an unfortunate moment; they don't have to fear wrongful arrest because they looked at someone the wrong way. It takes a lot for those from the inner sectors to have their lives ruined—but it's not exactly impossible. Of course, this is also where The Cotillion is kept, with numerous buildings and dormitories maintained for its students.
The further and further someone goes away from The Volary, the more life within The Aerie becomes difficult. The worst part is this: no one knows any better. They know the crumbling walls, the faded and peeling wallpaper, the revealed steel beams. They know the frequent Shrike patrols. They know that if they commit a crime, it's on them: they deserve whatever comes their way.
How does someone work in order to get by in these outer sectors? They can help man the bars, because drinking is as much a way of life here as it is back in the regular world. They can help upkeep of The Aerie. Someone can easily enter a trade alongside their compulsory schooling, especially if they aren't special enough for Cotillion training. Electricians are needed throughout. Maintenance of trains is needed throughout. Plumbers are needed throughout. And rations? They come by way of processing plants connected to hydroponic farms. More than a few times throughout the years, these plants have suffered breakdowns, and there have been ration shortages. But don't worry: Parliament continued on eating as if nothing changed outside.
Rations are given out three times a day through numerous rations checkpoints in each sector. These rations are like tasteless protein bars: enough to provide someone the meal they need, a bland mixture of carbohydrates, protein and fat sprinkled with essential nutrients, and little more. Attempts to make them more flavorful throughout the years have failed. Badly. It's probably better that they're bland little morsels. The good news is that they're filling. That may be the only good news.
Life isn't all misery and pain, even if job prospects are largely unfortunate if you're nothing special and the food is literally nothing to talk about. There is a thriving popular culture within The Congregation. There are numerous television shows and movies depicting the distant past, or even a brighter present: one in which the people of The Congregation managed to come together and make their lives better. Oddly enough, these don't tend to act as propaganda. They're just badly written, but done with an eye on hope and perhaps a better life. There are sports and games, though no official leagues have started up, almost certainly because they would compete with the Quarry for airtime.
Members of the Congregation are able to travel anywhere they like within The Aerie thanks to trains, with the only sector the train lines don't access being The Volary. They can peer down over the city, seeing a blurry line of grey all merging together, with people living their lives as best as they can. These trains go near the surface of The Aerie, too, granting someone a close up of the world outside, and reminding them that life could be much, much worse. It could be gone altogether.
With one week remaining until the next Quarry event, preparations continue within The Company's headquarters. Located at the base of the arena out of necessity, The Company's offices are pristine and lifeless in nature. White walls, white ceiling tiles, and white chairs: nothing varies from anything else. How does it remain so surgical at all times? One can only wonder.
Numerous Quarries are being prepared at any given moment, with the televised sensations planned months in advance. Some plans are scrapped depending on competitors. Given the recurrence of Snipes, there are moments where plans need to be changed, where tension needs to be brought in. An arena designer may have to scrap his entire vision for a backup plan.
Fortunately—or unfortunately—The Company is a well-oiled machine. Need some crunch time to make sure a Quarry event is ready on time? The underlings at The Company are used to working long, long days to make it work.
The Quarry this time around is unknown, though there are suspicions of what it might be.
As for those waiting to enter the ring: they're free to live their lives, but many of them are undergoing talent training and preparation for the big event. They're going through interviews, getting sized for any costumes, and being asked to tell their stories. Some of the Snipes may be more than ready for this, while the Guineas will need to figure this out for themselves.
Littered throughout the Congregation is a group that's been budding for a while. As much as this world is all they've known, there are some who believe that they deserve something better. The Quarry is unfair, and all throughout the many sectors, there are signs that The Aerie is breaking down and dying, barely keeping it together. These are people who may be afraid, but want to fight despite that fear.
Some of them have made themselves known: bearing a tattoo of a kestrel where others can see. Others hide who they are, but they're waiting. Planning. They strike when they can, but they know that time is running out. There are tiny safehouses throughout, typically through hatches underneath small local businesses that are sympathetic to the kestrels themselves. These people aren't members, but they put themselves at risk every day to protect this movement.
So, they have their sights set on this upcoming Quarry. It's time to bring change to The Aerie—or die trying.
Either through talking ICly or OOCly, we'd like to have the following goals outlined and submitted to our comments below:
What is the Kestrels' plan in all of this? What do they intend to do?
This can include trying to find and meet with Prometheus, just as a note! Overall, we'd like an idea of what they'll be attempting with the upcoming Quarry so that we can work it into the next log.
What is the theme for the next Quarry arena?
We'd like to have some idea of a theme, as well as some submitted puzzles! We know that we're the kings of Vague Ass Puzzles, so feel free to be vague. We just want to give our Quarry participants something to look forward to.
Are there any other factors we need to consider?
Parliament upheaval? Plans to find out what Parliament is doing? Anything else that might come to mind? This is more loose!
We're giving a loose deadline of DECEMBER 7 with the next log going up on DECEMBER 12.
Welcome to part one of our year-end AU event! We meant for this to be primarily be a description log to start play, especially since we feel that most of our critical information is in our Planning Post. We suggest that you do any necessary planning there for your select crews there, as well as use the "DM" system on Warbler for private stuff.
Of course, our questions thread is still open.
Since it's come up in the past: since all characters are in the AU, please feel free to do a catch-all post of anything you might want! Flashbacks! Anything open prompt-wise! Go wild with this stuff. This is always available during events, but we wanted to be explicitly clear here given the nature of this event.
As for mod-run social media, we have a post here on the network where we'll be steadily adding things throughout the event!
Our November Activity Check goes live on DECEMBER 1. AC for the month of December will be check-in only. It's a weird holiday season, but it will undoubtedly still be stressful for all of us.
Our next reserves will open on NOVEMBER 23 and our next application period will open on DECEMBER 1. We intend for all new or returning applicants to be kept outside of the AU. We have a special plotting opportunity and NPC ready for this scenario to help people integrate. However, if you have a friend who's apping to tap into the AU, let us know—we're not 100% married to our plans, but we worried about any new players apping into such a convoluted scenario after so much plotting has already taken place.
That's all for now. Have fun and for those of you who celebrate, have a Happy Thanksgiving! 🦃
no subject
She's right, of course. The only reason this relationship has been left to them, and them alone, is because (as far as he's aware) they've managed to maintain a sense of discretion. Quiet and controlled. He isn't sure how much the upper members of Parliament know, or quite frankly how much they care, but Sébastien knows it would still be unwise if they slip up. It could cost what they have. ]
We'll be more careful.
[ He closes his eyes briefly, relaxing again, and tilts his head to bury his face into the crook of her neck, pressing his mouth against her skin. ]
How long do we have before your dress change?
[ Because of course he knows how this goes, but in the spirit of exercising further caution— ]
no subject
And then there's the press and social media, she has appearances to keep up, favor to garner. A part of her power is making others think she is desirable, that she might be available in every regard. And if she went exclusive with someone...]
Since I didn't leave with anyone? Probably about ten minutes before I need to head that way. [ Her hand moves to slide up the back of his neck and into his hair.]
You could always come and help me change dresses. [ What a fucking reckless suggestion. He could easily be seen along the way to her rooms but still, she suggests it all the same.]
no subject
Not a problem if he were just one of many of Margo's party-flings, but the shape of their connection has changed for both of them, has likely caught the eye of anyone who might care or who might relay that information back to those who do (namely Stephen Strange). Not concerning him, of course, because he was an insignificant Rook, but about the woman in his arms who held a very powerful legacy in her hands.
He drops a kiss onto her shoulder, teases at the delicate fabric there. ] I'd like nothing more than to get this off you.
no subject
She lets out a dreamy sort of sigh, one that's also a little petulant.] I know... we have to be fucking good.
no subject
We do. [ He agrees, which doesn't mean they can't do whatever they want tomorrow, or the day after even if they might both want it now. He lets a hand slide down the length of her arm, and then rests where a swath of sequins and beads hang off the curve of her hip before it becomes the rest of her dress. Easy enough to hike up and gather the material. ]
But we still have ten minutes. [ Beat. ] Nine now, maybe.
no subject
The dress is very hike-able, to be sure.
Her hands slip beneath the fabric of his jacket, sliding slowly up his back, nails pressing against the fabric keeping them from his skin.] That we do. [ She tugs him close again to steal a slow, lazy kiss.]
this about to get nsfw;
He guides her backwards, still kissing her, until they find a particularly convenient pillar to lean against, shrouded in enough shadow to keep them both hidden from view of casual passersby. His mouth doesn't leave hers until his hands find places along her sides to roam, trailing kisses along her jaw and down her neck, to find the part in the folds of the thin flowing fabric of her skirt and run a hand up the length of her thigh. ]
bowchicka
And when his mouth (and hands) start to wander, she lets out a soft sound, akin to a moan.] I can't decide which I love more, your hands or your mouth.
[ One hand leaves his back to find the back of his head, encouraging his mouth's pursuits while her legs part further to encourage his hand's pursuit. Basically, she's very much greenlighting all of this.]
no subject
[ No reason it can't be both.
His mouth curves upwards, pleased with her reaction, and his voice is muffled, breath hot against her skin when he speaks. He lets his fingers find their way to the spot between her legs, gently stroking up and down in small but very methodical motions over the thin fabric there. Just to start.
Sure, they don't have a lot of time to languish in each other's company before they have to return to the party but Sébastien is still determined to make this moment count for something. ]
no subject
Sloting herself against him, she tries to press against him in all the right ways, if only to tease him and rile him up like he is doing to her.]
no subject
This isn't the first time they've stolen away an intimate moment like this one by any means (see: the escape route they've devised for situations exactly like tonight), but he won't deny that there's something a little thrilling about the danger of being caught out every time they do this.
He presses his fingers against her, lets the rhythm of his stroking her quicken with a little more intention, while she presses into him. Heat pools in his belly, working its way lower until he can feel himself harden in response. ]
no subject
He's frustrating close but not close enough and she lets out a soft sound that's equal parts pleasured and frustrated, one he's probably familiar with at this point, the man knows how to press her buttons. SO TO SPEAK.
Her voice is shaky in the best way as she speaks. ]
I don't think I'll ever stop wanting you. [ Fuck, she loves him and it scares her a little bit.]
no subject
It's no secret that before they met each other, they knew how to have fun, how to mingle with others. Sébastien had always treated sexual intimacy like a currency or a stone to step. People — both men and women alike, Sébastien has never really had any real preference — tell secrets in the bedroom, and they make promises that can later be cashed in. But it has never felt like this.
Wanting someone for the fun of it, or for some business favour, is so much more different from wanting someone because their heart somehow yearns for the other person.
He wants Margo because he wants to know every part of her, and he wants her to know him too — and that's something he doesn't think he's ever experienced in his life before. She isn't the only one afraid.
He catches her mouth with his while his fingers slide back up wanting to feel her skin, teasing her a little. ]
no subject
There are men and women she's been with more than once, the city is large but also too small for someone like her not to have fun with the same person more than once.
And it had been her intention to fuck Sébastien once and laugh about it later. They'd have their fun, get their jollies and part ways to hopefully only bump into each other at meetings and parties. And yes, perhaps she'd get him something he wanted, within reason.
He is a Rook, yes, but he was still beneath her in birth. She comes from what was thought of as royal stock, her parents both Cardinals who made a mutual (and yet loveless) agreement to further their bloodlines by having her together. She is meant for more.
But once hadn't been enough, immediately she knew that, even as she fell back against whatever surface they'd fucked on... breathless and trembling. Her hunger for him had not been sated and it was more than just fucking.
She wants him the same way he wants her, she's vulnerable with him in a way she's not with others. It's absolutely foolish, it's the sort of thing her father warned her against, it's the sort of thing you read in books and see in plays, a folly she'd sworn she'd never be caught up in.
And yet, here she is, pressed against a wall, her heart racing in a way that doesn't completely have to do with the fact she'd been thinking about him touching her all night and more to do with the fact she finds herself ready to forsake every other lover if only to have him kiss her one last time.
And he does, he kisses her and she moans into the press of hips lips as his fingers do their work.]
How do you do that?
no subject
Sébastien had grown up in a loveless environment, where survival was the most important lesson in ensuring another day that he wakes up. When he was old enough to leave the people who had borne him, he took that opportunity without another thought, looking towards the Volary and its promise of safety and comfort and luxury as a goal, as his raison d'être.
Cultivating relationships only went so far as to provide benefit for both parties, and he'd treated each one of them like a trade or a business deal. Matters of the heart were a distraction, a weakness. Margo had initially been just another means to an end, his final steps towards being a Cardinal, but like something taken right out of a story, she was different too. Fascinating, smart, beautiful. She understood what he wanted and why he wanted it, and to his surprise, she was willing to help him. He found himself opening up to her in a way he never allowed himself to before, found the sex to be better because it meant something.
And now hidden in the shadows of the garden during a very formal event — with the skirts of her dress hiked up around her hips, Sébastien's fingers slipping back towards the place between her legs to feel the slickness of her arousal when he slides them into her, he only seeks the thrill of her desire, wanting to be the one who makes her feel that way. Being made Cardinal doesn't even cross his thoughts. ]
This?
no subject
She takes a moment to gather her wits but not before she savors the sensation of his fingers inside of her.] Yes and no-- [ she murmurs, shifting to trying to encourage his attention.]
How is it... [ She draws in a shaky breath.] you can make me so hot. [ Which is to say, she's already well on her way to coming.] And how is it... I want you to fuck me despite having you only a few hours ago.
no subject
[ It's a voice by her ear, rendered a little harsh from want, as he leans in. He's pressed in close enough that she could feel his erection as some form of proof (as if she needed it, really), even while he keeps to a rhythm with his fingers, stroking her in and out — steady, steady, like he's teasing her, like he's not quite ready for her to come just yet. ]
I want to fuck you right here.
no subject
late late late sorryyyyy
He isn't sure he's ready to wait anyway, but he has every intention of pleasing her until she's practically a puddle in his arms.
Eight minutes.
He fumbles, one-handed, with his belt and the zipper of his trousers in the meantime, feeling constricted against the dark fabric and wanting Margo right now. His heart is pounding in his chest, his fingers of his other much more occupied hand moving with a little more fervour and purpose, feeling her start to quiver. ]
Come for me, mon trésor. [ He says. ] And then turn around.
no apology needed <333
She gasps his name loudly before she simply falls into her pleasure, her body flooded with heat as she does.] Fuck-- [ she pants out, rocking into his touch as she comes.] I want to feel you inside of me.
no subject
He loves the sound of his name on her lips, the way she gasps it, the way she practically crumbles when she finally comes for him. He withdraws his fingers, slick with her, and sets them to his tongue.
He tugs his trousers down now, pulls out his erection and slips it into her. It's slow and easy and she fits around him so familiar, making him release a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. He leans into her now, wrapping an arm around her waist to anchor him to her before he thrusts. ]