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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! 🦃
For Gene (cw: hospitalization/injuries/violence)
In hushed voices, the doctors say she got off lucky, that they've seen worse cases than hers. Victors of the Quarry. What's remarkable is that she made it through, they said, considering... everything.
It's strange to think of how many people saw her almost die on television. Not once, but dozens of times. How fucked it is that they're helping her now.
The world outside is in an uproar, reporters clamoring for interviews, half a dozen offers for marketing deals tailored to her, eager to help her forge her brand. Ellie isn't sure how she's going to face any of it. She might get another day's grace, maybe two. But soon she'll need to get her feet under her. She'll need to forge away forward.
Somehow, the prospect seems even more terrifying than the Quarry. At least the threats there were straightforward. All they wanted to do was kill her.
Now, it seems like the whole Aerie is one big Quarry.
There's a tap at the door, and a nurse informs her that she has a visitor. Ellie steels herself, looking down at her legs covered by the thin hospital blanket, and stiffly nods.
... might as well get the shitshow started.]
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he'd already been paying extra attention to the quarry this round because of clarke. except now —
he's made a point of never rooting for anybody. no favourites, no betting, no nothing. he avoids watching if he can. has it on in the background when it's mandatory, volume turned low while he cooks dinner.
but this time around he watches every minute.
he has to pull a few strings to get admitted. his mother's name still holds a little sway where his father's doesn't, and then he's just left standing outside her doorway, about a million thoughts racing through his mind. he must have stood there a solid ten minutes before the nurse cleared her throat meaningfully, and gene almost barreled through the door, startled by the sound.
instead, he enters slow. he's got a bag slung over one shoulder, and he gives ellie a sort of furtive, guilty look, mentally assessing roughly the spots he watched her get injured.
his grip tightens on the strap of his bag, and his mouth slants off hard to one side. there's no way she remembers him — she'd been so little, and she looks so grown now by comparison. in his head as he searched, he always thought about her like she was still a toddler, like he expected he'd find her frozen in time. the reality of it is that he's missed out on so much more of her life than he can ever make up for, and he'd almost lost her to boot.
he should have tried harder. done more. instead, he takes a breath. he's rehearsed this moment a thousand times in his head but it's like he just got turned on his ear and shaken until all the words ever spoken or written down just got straight dumped out of his head. his mouth works a few times, open and shut. then: ）
I — sorry, I know words aren't going to mean much right now.
（ he remembers the way his mother was, when he was young. sometimes she'd get a look. once, when she was preparing dinner, she had to rush out of the room to throw up. and she'd had years by then to come to grips with the quarry, and she hadn't been a child in it. ）
My name's — I'm Gene. Are you all right? They treating you okay?
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He looks at her like he's holding something painful in his mouth. Like he has to work up to saying anything at all.
Something in Ellie coils, deep down, aching and sharp in her stomach. She has no idea what's going on, but this doesn't feel like an interview, or a business opportunity. Slowly, she shifts to sit up in the bed, the blanket falling from her chest, leaving her in just the pale hospital gown. Her knuckles are treated, but still raw where she grips the blanket.]
Yeah.
[The word comes out breathless, like she's braced for something that doesn't come. Talking to him feels like missing a step on a staircase.]
... you don't look like a reporter.
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（ christ, is that what she thought? he shakes his head vehemently, and then tips a hand towards the chair at her bedside. ）
I'm a med student. Here — mind if I sit? I won't — I'm not going to try to touch you or anything. （ a sort of awkward shrug and a gesture down the length of his right leg. ） Bum ankle.
（ broke it so bad it needed screws and plates, years ago. ）
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A visitor, the nurse said.
He looks almost more nervous than she is, and it has the taste of copper pooling on the back of her tongue, something strange and twisted up. His manner is more disarming than anything he's said.]
... so, why are you here?
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（ he steps forward, sinks into the chair. scrubs a hand over his face, and then: ）
I have something you maybe ought to see.
（ he tugs a letter out from his bag. holds it out. ）
I can leave if you — （ he trails off. he doesn't really want to say it, doesn't want to know what she'll infer from it, but neither does he want to act like he's got any more entitlement to her space than she's willing to share. he's a stranger. ） — you know, while you read. Sometimes it's easier to do this sort of thing alone. I won't be offended.
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Ellie frowns at him, her eyebrow pulling at the old scar going through it, and reaches out to take the letter from him. It's neatly folded but yellowed at the edges, and she's careful as she opens it.]
S'fine.
[It's fine -- but as she gets a few lines into it... she suddenly realizes why he offered. The feeling rushes up to catch her, both hot and cold. For a second she's beyond tears, and her hands just fucking shake, rattling the paper. Squeeze, creasing the edges of it.]
... how come you have this?
[It comes out harsh, but still soft. She knows why, even before she asks.]
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It's part of that 'complicated' I mentioned. Right before you were born, my father and your ma got married. So we ain't — it's not a blood relation, but.
（ his mouth is dry. he wants to say the word brother but can't. because he's so sure it will be the thing that breaks the dam with the question he's already dreading — why? instead he just lets that be the end of it, and looks down at his hands. ）
You did good out there. I know it ain't ideal for anyone, but. I'm glad you made it.
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For too long she hangs in the silence between them, the pounding in her head matching the rising sick feeling in her chest. She had a family. All this time, she had someone she was supposed to be with.]
What happened?
[Somehow, she manages to get her voice not to break, but it still comes out smaller than she'd like, all twisted up. And when she looks up at him their eyes meet, and she sees it. His face is so young, and he looks-
So sorry.]
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I — （ he starts. stops. takes a breath, and lets it out. he needs to lay it out as plainly as possible. she can decide what it means, what matters. ） I was too young to be your legal guardian.
（ he knows she got bounced around. he'd managed to find two group homes that had her early on. reggie's help. he had a knack for that kind of thing, until it killed him. but he was still always ten steps behind the system, blocked at every corner by bureaucracy and ignorance. outright malice, a time or two.
funny, how they can pack a kid off to die in a fucking arena, but won't let one raise a child. his fingers twitch, this time in a restrained anger he's had to keep a lid on since reggie died, and he smooths down a crease in his trousers. ）
I looked for you. I'm sorry it wasn't enough.
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She wants to be angry at the girl who killed Joel, and even at the Cardinals, but really... it's everything.
It's this whole fucking place, and everything in it. It's feeling powerless and fragmented and impotent. It's the feeling that she can't draw even one more breath and go on living like she had, in fear.
She'd needed something to change, and now everything has. Ellie looks at the way Gene's fingers twitch, the way his face crumples in on itself, and something inside of her threatens to snap clean in two.
He looked for her.]
So... what happens now?
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（ he could tell her he has a place for her. it's not much, but he's got a small apartment with two small rooms. a bedroom door that's always closed, and locked away behind it are thirteen years' worth of gifts piled on a tiny nightstand. most of them are hand-made. little carvings. he didn't know what babies would like, much less little girls, but he'd tried.
reggie asked him once why he didn't turn it into an office. it's how the whole story came out, but that was years back now.
his pa used to tell him you should always keep a place for the ones you love. ）
But whatever else happens, I'd like to be in your life. If you'll have me.
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Had he come at this any other way, she'd have been suspicious as hell of his motives, but him making it her choice just fucking cuts her off at the knees. She feels like she can't catch her breath, but she makes herself. The only indication of how fucked up she is is how her hands twist in the blankets, gripping until her knuckles are white.]
... Okay.
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And the second she thinks that, comfort, she realizes that Gene's not just doing this for her. This is something he needs, too.
She reaches out and lays her palm over his, loosely curling her fingers. Her hands are much smaller than his, thin and bruised, knuckles still raw. But after a moment, the trembling stills, and she holds onto him.]
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he rubs his cheek down against his shoulder, and then: ）
If you don't want to stay here, I can probably get you out. I don't know... where you were staying, or if you wanna go back there, but.
（ he can't imagine it's a kindness, layin' in a hospital bed here where all the memories of what'd gone on in the quarry crowd around real close. better to be in your own space, among your own people. he ain't a doctor yet but he knows how the system works and can probably sweettalk the nurses besides. ）
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A muscles works in Ellie's jaw, a tightness at the edges of her lips, and she squeezes his hand.
It's an offer of much more than an escape.
It's the offer of a home.]
I wanna go with you.
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（ he blinks a little, as if surprised she'd said it so plain. his brow furrows in something like worry, and then: ）
Yeah, of course. I'll warn you, though, unless you like pink a whole lot you might end up on the couch.
（ he's got a room for her. always has. but it's the room of — a little girl, a toddler. not a teenager. in his mind, he always thought he'd find her as she'd been the last time he saw her. foolish, really, an' he should'a known better. ）
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I think I can live with you having a thing for pink.
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No, that's — not quite what I meant. It's. I have a spare room. For you. As long as I've had my own place, but, uh...
（ he clears his throat, a bit embarrassed by all this turn of the conversation. ）
You know, I kept expecting a little toddler. I never really... it didn't occur to me that if I ever found you, you'd be... older.
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Ellie's eyes sting with tears, and she quickly blinks them away, taking a shaky breath.]
S'fine.
It's- I don't mind it. I'm-
[Her voice breaks, just a touch. She takes another breath.]
I didn't think you'd have a room.
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It ain't really all that much — Hell, I ain't a doctor yet.
（ he doesn't want her to imagine something luxurious and then be disappointed at how small and plain it all is. ）
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[Ellie's never been shy about her language, but she bites her lip anyway, feeling something try to choke her. If he thinks she's still a little girl-]
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（ he'll probably have to jump through some hoops, but. it'll be all right, they'll make it work. it'll be better than her havin' to stay in this damn room, anyhow. ）
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[She hesitates, though, when he'd get up. Shifting uncomfortably.]
... thanks. For looking for me.
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