EVENT #11.4 / ARRIVAL LOG #029

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone!
WHERE: The Aerie as it ends in an anime-like fashion, New Tokyo, and New Amsterdam
WHEN: August 23, 2512 onward.
WHAT: Event ending, arrivals, and a lot of changes.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy, religious themes.

> EVENT #011.4 / ARRIVAL #029

As suddenly as they all vanished, the people who remained in the Aerie begin to return. These people have not died: instead, they seem to return peacefully after an extremely unusual experience. As the gods are freed, the Aerie begins to take on a different form, radically altered by this decision. The very fabric of reality unravels. It's not that the city continues to grow more and more dilapidated by the moment—instead, the Aerie ceases to exist, dragging everyone who remains within into a joint, out of body experience.

At once, everyone's memories return in full. As they float in what is an open space, they'll recall who they were once before, right alongside their alternate life in the Aerie. Even if they can't see them, they'll begin to feel the others there: not just that they exist, but their emotions: wonder, surprise, irritation, anger, fear, guilt. Somehow, they recognize that they're connected to the billions of living souls there alongside them.

What once seemed like a wide, open space comes to be recognized as a large, vast ocean. They float in the deepest depths of the ocean, and they begin to see sea life swirl around them. Whales. Sharks. The glint of a dying star? There are constellations in the distance, too far to reach. It's hard to say where they are, and impossible to communicate to ask, to try to reach one of the billions of other souls there. When they open their mouths to try, they only make an unintelligible sound. Have they, too, been transformed into those creatures? It seems, at least for a moment, like they're communicating via echolocation.

The constellations begin to burn brighter and brighter. As they touch the people there, they're able to see more clearly around them. There are hundreds upon thousands of animals, all with bright golden eyes. They push through the water quickly, and the gold in their eyes fully illuminates the space around them.

Once that illumination meets a critical mass, everyone begins to experience a different joint vision. From the very start, the experience itself is excruciating: they feel an object, vaguely comprehended, but perceived to be spear-like in nature, slicing into them, tearing them asunder. The misery results in a complete and total division of self: splintered and incomplete, scattered into trillions of tiny pieces.

An indefinite amount of time later, there is a stirring. Everyone feels frigid and cold. The chill is excruciating, but different from what it was before. And then, as if a physical feeling can become an emotion, that chill becomes anger. And then that rage starts searching, wandering—

Until it adapts and connects with the ocean around it. The gold in the eyes of the sharks and whales begins to dim. A feeling of grief and eventually peace washes over everyone who remains.

And then everyone begins to shift in their beds, awakening as if returning from a terrible nightmare. Of course, given that they recall all of it, it's likely not much of a nightmare. At least not in a literal sense. When they wake to check in on the world, they'll find it in much the same shape—with the changes being far less obvious at first.

> 30 SECONDS FROM TOKYO

At first, you'll hear the buzz of a motor, as well as smell the splash of ocean water not so far away. You'll find that you're on a boat, passing swiftly over the Pacific Ocean to come into contact with a large, man-made structure in the distance. While you're drugged, you find that you're unable to move much. An IV protrudes from your arm, keeping you sedate. When one of the guards on the boat turns to check on you, they'll find your eyes open. "Sit tight and don't move. We have to be welcomed inside." Even if you're naturally defiant, you find yourself forced to comply.

Eventually, the boat pulls onto a dock that extends from the city itself to welcome your arrival. The mechanisms are complicated and hidden. Unlike a drawbridge in our modern times, the dock extends swiftly and completely, welcoming the boat next to it. After the boat seems to anchor itself into place, the guards present begin to move each of the passengers one by one off the boat. You'll notice others like you: dressed in white, long-sleeved scrubs, with recently shaved heads, and a pair of white tennis shoes. Or most of them are.

There are two exceptions: Eames and Aeryn, who have their hair still, but are just as drugged and kept under. They went through a similar arrival process before the Aerie stole them away, and arrived back after the Aerie ended in a similar manner to Max. Their return to society is just less personalized due to the circumstances.

Eventually, you're taken through the city—a wonder in and of itself, as it's a complex system of elevators spanning both vertically and horizontally through the large, metallic structure—and eventually through the back door of a business.

"All right, listen up everyone. There are people coming to get you. We've got this place for the day, so sit tight." At this, everyone's forced to do as they're commanded. Even if you don't want to sit, you have no choice. "We'll direct the people to bring you water, but that's all. Ask them to show you the glow. And—from me to you?" The guard sounds … tired all of a sudden. Her voice is strained as she adds: "Try not to fuck more shit up."

At once, the guards start to filter out through the back door. As much as everyone left behind can't go anywhere, they sure can talk.

As this process begins, a message is sent to all of the Displaced in New Amsterdam via a private broadcasting channel, one that's meant to only reach a limited number of people. It seems Jimmy's found a way to hack it for his own use, but trying to trace this back to him will prove impossible:

Sorry everyone. Couldn't do an official drop off. I barely scrounged up the people I did to get them to town. They're sitting tight at a bakery called Sweet Omakase in New Tokyo. Just go in and tell the people up front that you're there to pick up a package.

Oh, I forgot to mention: I'll be reaching out to a few of you soon. So … yeah.

JH

As for that compliance drug?

◉ 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.

> NEW AMSTERDAM

Though the Displaced can make the choice to keep the newcomers in New Tokyo for longer than a few hours, it's generally not recommended. Morningstar in New Tokyo is in just as much disarray as the rest of the world, and El doesn't want to disrupt their recovery in these trying times. As such, it'll be necessary to take them on a secure route back to the New Tokyo gate, bring them to New Amsterdam, and start to get them ready for their new lives. Of course, they may see a little bit of New Tokyo along the way, but not much given the urgency. (The link is provided for brevity purposes—please see the "New Tokyo" section for a summary of the city itself!)

The abbreviated trip between New Tokyo and New Amsterdam will bring the newcomers back to a city that's been through … a lot. That means it's probably a good time to have a quick catch up, right?

> LAST TIME ON NAMSTERDAM!
Although a year isn't very long for even a human being, the Displaced have managed to make their mark in this unusual world. Having first been released out into the world in mid-June 2511, they started touching the world around them. Whether it was fighting a giant monster or curing people from the sickness caused by inhaling smoke from that giant monster's parts (as well as any tiny little monsters it brought with it) or taking on the UNA when they tried to wipe out an entire chapter of a rebel organization, the mysterious Blue-glowing people were there.

After over a year of interventions left and right, the Displaced finally came forward as a united group—one that's uniquely tied to a business they opened. No one knows they're from another world. They don't even know what the Displaced's powers are, though they've certainly seen them do fantastical things. One thing became apparent: while the Displaced were spotted in other cities around the globe, their influence has been most felt in New Amsterdam. And even if the world's governing body doesn't like it, the people of New Amsterdam have claimed the Displaced as their own.

Most recently, the entire world found itself dragged into another reality called the Aerie. The Displaced had gone through this before on a smaller scale, but this brought everyone present on the planet Earth to this other world. The Aerie was a miracle world: in order to prevent the death of humanity as everyone knew it, a group of heroes chosen by a handful of gods chained said gods and harnessed their power to create a safe haven for all of humanity. As a result of their actions, these people created a major class disparity in order to maintain the secrets of how they created the Aerie. Since billions of people were saved in the process, the Aerie ended up having an overpopulation problem. The answer? A battle royale for anyone who's committed a crime, held monthly.

Well, as these things go, about two hundred years into this horrible experiment, the Aerie started experiencing some challenges. Rebel groups and bombs and more! Eventually the gods were set free, and with it, the Aerie vanished into nothing.

Though the Aerie (and its smaller-scale predecessor, Zerzura) was undoubtedly brought into being by divine intervention, it doesn't help that the Displaced claimed that their powers seemed to be caused by interacting with gods. Troubling much? So, some of the world is divided, with New Amsterdam being the only pro-Displaced left after the Aerie. Of course, it's a touch more complicated than that.

And it doesn't all fall in the laps of the Displaced. After all, they didn't choose to have this happen to them.

An important thing to note is that New Amsterdam is a very, very green city. We don't mean recycling. As if powered by weird god magic, plants grow a-plenty in the city, leaving numerous trees and thousands upon thousands of credits in plumbing issues. Animals came into the city thanks to the absence of humans to start settling in. It's a beautiful city, one that seems as if it's actively fighting against being reclaimed by nature.

With the worldwide trauma, current singing events are currently on hiatus. This likely won't be permanent, but it's not as if anyone is looking to become a pop star at this exact moment.

But that's where New Amsterdam is currently, anyway.

> SUMMER PROBLEMS
Ah, water rationing. That's right: one of the tried and true traditions in New Amsterdam summers is water rationing. During the hot summer months, the city puts out water rationing warnings, and the city also answers the intense and extreme heat by making it so that businesses are open throughout the evening, with everyone sleeping during the daytime. However, the Aerie shot a lot of that preparation in the foot, so the city won't be able to reverse the clock.

Expect a lot of hot, miserable, and extremely humid days ahead. Thanks to the nearly tropical nature of the city at this point, humidity is a natural side effect of it all. The temperatures will be reaching from around 105 F to 115 F during the daytime. The evenings cool off, but certainly not by much, as they dip to only around 90 F to 95 F when the sun goes down.

Oh, and water rationing is most definitely in effect.

> RED WINGS
In February 2512, the bar known as Red Wings first opened. Positioned adjacent to the New Amsterdam stadium, where a wide variety of sporting events occur year round, it's the only business in New Amsterdam that's currently run entirely by the Displaced. However, a few other businesses are set to open in the near and distant future, all tailored to cater to the city that most of the Displaced call home.

On the inside, Red Wings is very, very red. There is a neon sign that's been recently repaired of the Great Lakes state (Michigan). In terms of being a watering hole, the bartenders are all Displaced and all very sympathetic to any newcomers headed their way. Need some free food or a chance to play pool to clear your head? Red Wings is the place to do that. There are tables throughout the bar. There used to be booths, but most of them got shredded during a recent monster attack and … well, tables are easier to replace.

It's likely that all of the newcomers will be brought to Red Wings first for a full meal before being taken to the safehouse across town.

And while there are blank projection screens around the bar showing news broadcasts of what just went down, none of the newcomers will be able to see any of them.

> MURAL
Throughout the past year, multiple murals have gone up around New Amsterdam by a Banksy-like figure. This figure is known to the people of New Amsterdam as Legion, and they tend to commemorate both the Displaced and their ties to the gods. In the Aerie, it was revealed that Legion was a wealthy woman by the name of Nirvana. Upon returning from the Aerie, another new mural goes up in New Amsterdam.

Legion's new mural explodes in color in the large corporate buildings that connect in New Amsterdam's financial district. It depicts the whole story of the Aerie from beginning to end: the conception, the Quarries, the attacks on both the Quarry and the Volary, and then the return. The imagery is woven together like a full story, each picture moving seamlessly into the next. Below are the colors of the gods, painted in vibrant colors that can be seen for miles.

There's specific imagery woven in as well, including the birds that represent the different groups of people, the eclipse and different phases of the moon to signify the timing.

It seems to say never forget.

> HELPING OUT
All around the world, returning members of Morningstar, PRESERVE, and even the cultists who once followed the leader, Ball (though the cultists are only working in New Amsterdam), all spur into action to try to help. Everyone may be traumatized, but they also likely prescribe to the notion of wanting to keep busy. Recalling the Aerie won't be pleasant, and the world needs help. New Amsterdam already has a head start thanks to the resource acquisition and work by a small group of Displaced, but now everyone is back to work.

The work in question? Feed everyone, first and foremost. Countless people are without fresh food. Working in conjunction with both the Red Wings employees and the cultists, PRESERVE will be putting up food banks all around the city. Marcos Diaz's food bank is likely to be fully stocked as a result of this, should he want to get that running again.

Other work that needs to be done involves plumbing, as the plants seem to have very much taken on a life of their own. They're absorbing most of the available water in the city, and have even made the water level decrease in the river (just a bit, though). Water rationing is even more important right now, but it may prove to be a futile effort if the plants aren't held back. Time to get moving. Anyone who wants to be an impromptu apprentice to a plumber is likely going to be welcomed onto the job. They need all hands on deck.

Finally, there are just the people who need help. Roaming bands of former UNA soldiers caused problems even before the mass return. Now they're meeting up and moving as if they're a gang of their own to return order to the land. However, these people are truly traumatized, and it's as if they're calling upon an old order that they can't quite recognize. The problem is that they're extremely dangerous. Though their weapons are mostly makeshift ones, they can fight with them. Along with these roaming bands, there are the catatonic and the confused people, all who could use some assistance to get back on track.

Sadly, the hospitals are not ready to be staffed by typical personnel. If anyone wants to take the lead on this and commandeer those medical centers, they can feel free to! Again, all help is appreciated, even if it might involve some slightly illegal choices.

> SPIRITUAL RECLAMATION
One thing that was significant in Meadowlark's world before the Aerie was a complete lack of religious or spiritual devotion, at least on a major scale. Smaller sects like the tiny cult in New Amsterdam were exceptions that ultimately proved the rule. After all, they didn't even have any written doctrine about their belief systems.

Things begin to change. Some of those changes are obvious, while others are less so—at first.

The first sign of this is in various preachers who take up spots on street corners to preach about the end of the world. With a muddled and confused ideology, these people build little podiums for themselves to speak about the end times: the Aerie was proof that humanity is only buying itself time before an inevitable end—and eventually, the gods will punish them for what they did. While the initial preachers will not have a clear messaging system, this will change in the coming weeks. In fact, it'll seem as if they're all deriving their ideology from the same place—even while located in different megacities.

Quietly, tiny religious communities begin to spring up. With real estate already in shambles before the Aerie, much of the construction has come to a halt in order for people to begin to psychologically heal. As a result, various warehouses throughout the megacities begin to be converted into spiritual centers. At first, these locales will be innocuous in nature, but in time, there will be a clear set of imagery connected to them. Some of that imagery will link back to the Aerie (with a lot of birds, as well as ties to either the Cardinals or the gods), or to the sacred geometry imagery that's been connected to the Displaced for some time.

These spiritual centers may simply be people squatting illegally, but it's not as if any of the various local police departments have the resources to stomp them out. It seems that the UN also views this religious devotion as harmless, at least compared to the other problems that could arise.

> NATURE'S RECLAMATION
Plants and a handful of animals have been at it for a while, but the world is definitely in the process of experiencing a second coming of … fauna? Some are springing up unexpectedly outside of walls, while others are inside of the walls themselves in many megacities. Did you know that pigeons were an uncommon sight in 2512? Well, were is an appropriate word for it. They're no longer uncommon. And what about that river in New Amsterdam? Never one to be a place for fishing, it's now filled to the brim with freshwater fish.

Want to go fishing? New Amsterdam will eventually require a license for it, but it's still early days. There aren't any fishing poles around to purchase, but someone can probably fashion one themselves if they have the know-how.

There will also be more wild insects. Pest control was a thing of the past for this world, but with all these new creatures showing up all over, that's going to be a concern once again. Unless, of course, it's prevented.

> 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. The inside of this safehouse looks better than the outside, as it was beginning to be transformed into a training center by Ian Fowler. Once everyone is brought into the safehouse down below, they'll find no one waiting for them. Though Gaby, a Morningstar agent, is typically around, she's absent at this time. Any newbies will need to be filled in by their fellow Displaced, though they 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. Privacy is mostly nonexistent in the safehouse, with any past efforts that were made to change that destroyed by numerous attacks along the way.

◉ 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, though it's running low because it hasn't been restocked since before the previous set of arrivals.

◉ While the kitchen has a lot of dried foods to cook, as well as canned and preserved vegetables, most of what's left in the fridge will need to be tossed. In addition, 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.

◉ Everyone will receive a modest stipend of credits from Morningstar 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 upon arrival to 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 also 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 AUGUST 27, 2512 (JANUARY 23, 2020). These 4 days are for them to adjust, learn about the world they've arrived in from their fellows, and for El to speak with them and work on setting up their IDs.

> FINAL OOC NOTES

Welcome to Meadowlark, newbies! You're now free to post to the network and log comms. To reiterate, your characters will have no IDs or inboxes, nor be allowed to roam free once they enter the safehouse. Meaning: they'll have to sit tight until August 27, 2512 ICly.

All characters will appear as @anonymous on the network. While sitting tight 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.

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 pertaining to this log (and because we accidentally forgot to drop a questions header here, our bad!), please refer to our questions thread on the OOC post.

The January CR meme for the month is here.

Please check out our Event #011 Wrap Up Post for a rundown of all of the changes brought about through the AU, as well as any world changes that will be apparent moving forward.

As we announced on the wrap up post, AC will remain halved until at least June 2021. That said, for the month of January, we're making things check-in only because of the state of the world.

Finally, we'll be back to our standard planned calendar and AC (halved, just to be clear) on February 1, 2021. Reserves will open on January 23, 2021.

> NAVIGATION

Comments

[kestrels]

（ he gets up off his bed — he is altogether not a terribly physically intimidating person, all of 5'9 — but he doesn't seem even remotely concerned by the size difference, ephemera's scars or that threat. instead, he just reaches very deliberately in front of him to pull a knife of the wall.

this is absolutely teenage tough guy posturing. because he be like that. ）

I'm not going to hit anyone I'm not aiming for. You can calm the fuck down.

[requiemshark]

[ Ephemera just raises an eyebrow, watching the young man pull the knife out of the wall — kid, really. But a kid who knows how to handle a blade. There's no hesitation with the motion, no unnecessary flashiness. Ephemera remembers being nineteen and in awe of knives, wanting to do all the tricks in the book. The sergeant beat that tendency out of him. And then she turned around and taught him how to do it right. He never learned how to dance the way she could, but he can handle himself with a blade.

Apparently it's a skill lots of people are picking up these days. Ain't that fun. ]

Whole lot of people trying to find their bearings here. They don't need knives flying around.

[ His tone is very even. He doesn't snap, though his old self would have. Hell, his nineteen-year-old self would've taken it like a challenge, puffed himself up to his full height and gone either for a laugh or an all-out fight, whichever seemed more interesting.

His nineteen-year-old self was an idiot. These days, Ephemera's mostly just tired. A fight would bring him clarity, maybe even a temporary sort of peace, but he knows himself well enough; it wouldn't last. And then he'd feel even worse in the aftermath. What would a fight bring him except for a temporary reprieve?

Besides. That's what the clubs are for. At least then he's earning money. ]

[kestrels]

（ he can't make the guy flinch, which is probably to be expected, but jai doesn't back down. he just shrugs, returns to his spot on the cot and flings the knife again.

carefully. but it's probably still a little close to where the guy's standing, just to prove a fucking point. he can do this blindfolded. ）

Really? World full of gods and monsters and you're worried about knives being the tipping point?

（ he rolls his fucking eyes, throws the second of his knives. it hits so close to the first it's almost blade-to-blade. ）

Fuck you. If any 'newbies' have a problem with it, they can take it up with me.

[requiemshark]

[ Ephemera doesn't flinch. He doesn't even blink. The kid's got good aim. It wouldn't be the first time he's had a knife tossed at him in the field, or in training. Wouldn't be the first time he'd been hit with one, either. One time, when he was still a rookie Helljumper, another trainee got him right between the joints of his armor and he bled like a fountain. Might have died if the instructors hadn't gotten there right away with the biofoam. Then they all had to run drills at double speed for two extra hours to repent for their own stupidity.

So it goes. Ephemera hums to himself, then steps over and pulls the closest knife from the wall.

And he tosses it right back, embedding it into the wall. ]

Work out your shit on your own time.

[ He wonders if saying that makes him a hypocrite. It's not advice he was able to follow when he first got tossed in here. ]

[kestrels]

（ well they're just a regular couple of badasses, aren't they. jai reaches up to pull that knife down from the wall, without bothering to get up from his bed. he just uses it to scratch idly at his temple, his scalp itching where the new hair is coming in. ）

I'm not working out anything.

（ he says that flatly. that was all galeya and his therapist — reaching for anger and violence when he needs to work something out is a surefire way to make absolutely zero healthy progress. he may not like being here, think that this safehouse is fucking garbage, and be insanely pissed at the people that brought him here to cool his heels for a few useless fucking days, but he's not working shit out. ）

I'm practicing. And if there was literally fucking anything else to do in this shithole, you might have a leg to stand on with your holier-than-thou bullshit. Sorry I'm not going to sit around and play board games, grandpa.

[requiemshark]

Could've fooled me.

[ But maybe that's projection and his prison memories at work, everything dredged up to the surface. Not everyone thinks like him. And there's a part of Ephemera, much more than he cares for, that just wants to turn around and walk out. Find himself a real fight, an enemy he could beat with his bare fucking hands, and let himself have that brief moment of perfect clarity. The freedom of that brutality. Do or die.

Breathe. Stay in the moment.

Ephemera tips his head to the side. The hood he's wearing softens the scars, but it doesn't conceal them. A half-measure. Sometimes he scares people without meaning to. ]

I've got shit to do. But you want someone to spar with, come find me in an hour.

[kestrels]

Maybe you're easy to fool.

（ it's fired back with obvious annoyance, the upwards curl of his mouth that's half smile, half snarl. sometimes, the feral street punk in him really just jumps the fuck out. ）

We'll see.

（ god, there is nothing he hates more than people trying to fucking handle him, and there's no doubt that's what this guy thinks he's doing. kid with an attitude problem, probably comes from some fucked up home where he's got issues. devora xhao, it's obnoxious. ）

[requiemshark]

[ Ephemera just shrugs at that. He knows that expression, that face. He's worn one very similar to it many times in the past. That was always Rodriguez's favorite sneer. Get loud, get sharp, make yourself look dangerous so that people know not to fuck with you. It's an easy rhythm to fall into.

Or it was, once. Maybe he really is getting old.

He heads out, in the meantime. He's got rounds to make. Run a quick check on the rest of the newbies, answer the questions that come, make a list for groceries. Food's a little harder to come by this time around, but he makes do. And miracle of miracles, there's even some fresh meat to be had.

About an hour later, he comes back with a fresh bag of groceries. And then he heads off to the darker corner of the safehouse where he sparred with Ginia the first time all those months ago. Either the kid will show up, or he won't. ]

[kestrels]

（ he's studied graussi. the warrior-scholar of the steppes. one of gal's ancestors, apparently. he knows tactics now, inside and out — even if he doesn't always act that way. logically, he gets it. know thy enemy and all that bullshit. it'll be easier if he doesn't make enemies, but he sure as hell doesn't want to make friends. aidan's the only one he's got now, and that's been years in the making.

still. he could do worse for allies than an asshole that stays calm when he's flinging knives around, too. so he does go, to that dark corner of the room. he's dressed in loose clothing, long sleeves, bare feet. but he moves like a fighter, centered, confident. he's got his knuckles wrapped up like a boxer, and when he spots ephemera he jerks his chin at him. ）

Better make it worth my while, old man.

[requiemshark]

[ So the kid showed up after all. Wrapped his hands, too. Either a precaution against split knuckles, or he knows about the empathy bond. Ephemera hums to himself and begins wrapping his own hands. It's a habit now. Nice and steady, nice and calm.

He feels calm, in control of himself. Centered in the way he often does right before a real fight. Because it comes down to skill in the end, and nerve, and he's never once backed down.

But this isn't fighting. It's sparring. There are lines, still. ]

Anyone told you about the empathy bond?

[ Better not to get surprised in the middle if they haven't. His mouth twitches a little at the comment, though. Old man. Funny. He feels old. Almost thirty, getting up there for a Helljumper. There weren't many he know who made it past twenty-five. His squad was an outlier. And now he is, too. The last man standing.

What're you even supposed to do with that except get angry about it? And what's that anger ever gotten him? ]

[kestrels]

（ no one's told him, but he's found out the old fashioned way — legwork. well, maybe the metaphoric sort. the thing about gal, since the day she took him in she's been telling him how to be walk prepared into anything. the only resource he's had for the past few days is the network, so he's gone over it, and over it, and over it. he's already decided who in this shitty place he'll probably reach out to, and who isn't worth his time. harder is putting names to faces, though navigating cooltalk pages is contextualizing that a bit. it's all about information.

this is one more piece. he watches as the man wraps his hands. it's not like he couldn't guess he was a fighter, but if he was in doubt that would have confirmed it. ）

Yeah, I know.

（ he already hates being touched, so that's actually a pleasant excuse not to bother with it, ever. ）

[requiemshark]

Cool.

[ No need to go over it again, then. Ephemera finishes wrapping his hands, then pushes his hood back. He doesn't take his jacket off. it'll serve as makeshift armor if the kid decides to make things interesting and pull a knife in the middle. You never can tell with people these days.

He shifts into a loose stance, weight evenly balanced, and then gestures with his hand. Come on.

Might as well make it interesting. ]

[kestrels]

（ helpfully, he left the knives in his bunk, so you're welcome!!

he eyes the guy's stance as he moves, circling him. taking stock. jai is light on his feet, though ephemera will probably find out before too long he's a hell of a lot heavier than what he looks like he should be.

he could attack the guy on his scarred side. he's probably blind out of that eye, or close enough it'd be an advantage. but there's nothing to be gained by fighting dirty, especially when there's no actual stakes. would he throw dirt in someone's eyes in a life or death situation? absolutely. but here? no way.

so when he does close distance for an attack, it's a deliberate one. not as fast or as hard as he could, but at least it's on ephemera's good side. ）

[requiemshark]

[ Well, look at that. Kid knows how to move. And, interestingly, doesn't go immediately for his blind spot. The scars are an obvious tell, a clear opening, but the kid doesn't take it. Doesn't got for his throat, either, or try to kick him in the balls. So they're not going hard straight off the bat.

Cool.

Ephemera shifts to block. He doesn't throw his full speed into it just yet, curious to see what the kid does. But his counter is hard, efficient. He doesn't yield ground and he advances, pushing forward, pressing his own attack. Not hard enough or fast enough to swing into a real fight, but enough to keep things interesting. ]

[kestrels]

（ altruism doesn't come naturally or easy to him, but god does he fucking try. when the guy presses the attack in turn, jai pivots onto his back feet — leading with his other hand now. he seems no less comfortable right-handed than he did starting off with his left.

when ephemera takes a swing, he steps forward to lessen the advantage of his greater reach, grabs onto his wrist and tries to pitch him onto the ground with a sweep of one ankle and a twist of his hips.

lower center of gravity has its advantages!! ）

[requiemshark]

[ Helljumpers, as a rule, don't tend towards grappling. Throwing another person around in full power armor means risking the structural integrity of whatever you're standing on. Better to keep your footing, to remain steady and weather the blows. But their training was thorough. Ephemera's not a grappler, but he fought with one for years. Crow was a goddamn beast in the field. Crow would throw an enemy down and follow them all the way, even through the floor. Even in the air.

The kid's fast. Ephemera's heavier. And while he goes down, he doesn't stay there, and takes the opening to aim a blow into the kid's torso. Hard.

Don't stay on the ground. It's over if you stay on the ground. He's not Crow, in the end, but he's always been adaptable.

And despite himself, Ephemera finds himself smiling.

This is good. This is real. ]

[kestrels]

（ he sees the blow coming just a little too late to get out of the way, the only thing he can do is take it. he tenses, exhales at the impact — and it barely shoves him back at all.

(there's where that whole 'heavier than he looks' thing comes in handy.)

it hurts — he can tell it's probably not this guy's full power, but besides a flickering grimace there's not much indication of it. it just makes him miss the kestrel armour.

he does back off, though. let the guy get back to his feet. it's only fair, he already knows how to keep somebody on the ground and beat them into hamburger. ）

[requiemshark]

[ Hmm. Not much of a reaction to the blow. Barely phases the kid at all. That could be training, but it might be something else. You never can tell around here. Ephemera narrows his good eye as he gets back up, shifting back into his ready stance. He doesn't attack just yet, though. ]

You're not a fucking SPARTAN, are you?

[ Hunter always said they recruited young. And somebody trained the kid up. Sure, he doesn't hit as fast or as hard as Ginia did, and Ephemera doesn't get the military vibe off the kid, but the world keeps going strange on him.

Better to ask. Better to throw it out like an accusation and see what rolls off. Ephemera's tone is calm, the smoke inhalation shifting his voice into something rougher, but he doesn't move like he's winded. He hangs back, waiting. Evaluating. ]

[kestrels]

（ he starts to reach up to swipe his hair back out of his eyes. stops before he gets his hand above his shoulder, because the fucking haircut makes it irrelevant. but it's a gesture he couldn't quite control — he turns it into a stretch almost smoothly enough to make it seem like that was his intention all along. ）

If I say 'yes', what would you do?

（ he doesn't even plan on giving out his real name here if he can get away with it. gal taught him the best lies are the ones that speak some truth. no one knows his world, no one but aidan knows about the kestrel. he could be anyone here, but he's worked hard to be who he is and he isn't going to change the core of it — but the finer points? sure, why the fuck not. ）

[requiemshark]

[ So, that's a reaction. Not one that Ephemera's certain he knows how to read, but it's there.

He frowns, rolling his shoulders. Considering. Kid's too short to be a regular SPRTAN, but the world takes all kinds these days. And maybe that's telling. ]

Depends. Rather not see the city leveled. Got people I like here.

[kestrels]

（ so, a spartan is something that can level a city. it's more than just the fact he can fight. something else.

honestly, when he'd thrown the guy on the ground, he'd almost been surprised how easy it was. how little he weighed.

the lightbulb flicks on in his head, and he realizes that's probably it: stronger, faster, denser. a random gravity variance — since they seem to be more-or-less the same species. the thing is, how far does he want to carry it? he's a good liar — you have to be, in his line of work. he's good at inferences, context clues, picking up on the little things.

but frankly, it's fucking exhausting. he doesn't want to hitch himself to a star this early, especially one that he'll have to spend his time here covering up for. so, with a drag of his tongue over his teeth: ）

Nah. I'm just a guy.

（ but now that he knows there's some kind of disparity, he'll have to be careful who he punches and how hard. ）

[requiemshark]

[ Just a guy. Hmm. Ephemera flexes his hands briefly, considering that. He doubts it's true, but the kid's not a SPARTAN either. Or at least not in the way Ephemera was thinking.

So. Where's that leave them now? ]

Cool. You wanna keep going?

[kestrels]

Depends. How keen are you on an ass-kicking?

（ he gives a cocky little smile, bounces lightly on the balls of his feet and, for good measure, threads his fingers together and turns them out to crack the knuckles obnoxiously. ）

I could do this all day.

[requiemshark]

[ Oh, okay. That's how they're going to play it. Ephemera snorts, amused despite himself.

He thinks he likes this kid. A little. ]

Get to it, then.

[ He motions with his hand, grinning. ]

[kestrels]

（ so then they just lowkey brawled for like

a while i guess

which we absolutely are not going to write out because who wants to do that.

and when they're both tired out and ready for a break, chilling in the kitchen, jai fills two glasses with water and pushes one across the table for ephemera, nodding his head at it. ）

My name's Xhan, by the way.

（ it isn't, but who's keeping track? ）