PORT: MEODRIOTOPE

[returnjourney]

PORT: MEODRIOTOPE

Feb 11, 2022 – Feb 13, 2022
Welcome to Meodriotope! (Try spelling that without double-checking. I double-dog dare you.) This is our first port. Ports are, as the name implies, a visit to "shore", which can be just about any planet in the Oos Galaxy. This time, the Peregrine is dropping in on a flower-gathering errand, but it's a good opportunity for characters to stretch their legs.

The full OOC write-up for the port is here. If you have any questions about the event, please ask here.

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Questions & Answers

1. Disembarking

For some passengers, this will be the first time they've touched land in almost forty days. Is it unusual, stepping down onto solid ground and breathing cool, fresh air? Is it frightening, to look upon the sea of blue grass and pale sky and realize you have never been so far from home? Is it exciting? Awe-inspiring? Gross, because who likes the outdoors anyway?

Of course, not everyone will disembark. Inmates cannot leave the ship without a warden as escort, and wardens will be responsible for inmates in port — they don't have to be glued to each others' sides, of course, but it's harder to make trouble under a watchful eye.

2. Camp

There'd be a lot of walking without the ATVs, so the Navarch has deployed both vehicles to serve as transport and support for housing. The campsites, once set up, look very much like regular Earth camping — turns out at some point in human development, people pretty much perfected what a rapid set-up/rapid tear-down camp can be, give or take some aesthetic trappings. A sleeping bag is a sleeping bag. A camp stove is a camp stove. It's just cooler when it's made of sleek white metal with designer rounded edges and blue lighting, and all.

There are four tents set up, each sleeping 4-6 people, so even if everyone decided to camp, it won't be too crowded. They are equipped with a solar-air tube that can generate power from sunlight, so they are climate controlled and have built-in lighting. An additional tent serves as a mess tent, though you'll all be eating on little folding chairs. Plastic trunks store rations. Those who want a bit of local fare will have to work for it.

Wardens also have a locked toolbox containing a hatchet, a firestarter, and a pair of utility knives. Should be handy for setting up a campfire at night. Shame no one picked up marshmallows from the commissary; that would have been nice.

3. [Mis]adventuring

There's plenty to see out in the world of Meodriotope:

Burrowing holes — Beware your ankles: the fields are home to colonies of littari, rabbit-like creatures the size of labradors. They leave large holes that are easy to fall into, if you're not watching where you step. This time of year, they usually stay deep in their warrens, but occasionally they pop up to smell the wind and scavenge for edible plants in the thick grasses. They're largely harmless, preferring to flee when possible, but they may go for the calves with their large, blunt teeth when cornered or struck. (They also taste good with mint sauce.)

Lover's Kiss — These little plants can be difficult to find, as they thrive under the grasses' shade, but when you find one, you find a lot of them. Each vine has fifty or more bright, red blooms, pinched at the sides and bowed in the middle like a pair of juicy lips. The Navarch requests that they be harvested; they're used in medicines on a neighboring planet and the Admiralty has asked the Peregrine to pick some up while we're in the area. Be careful, though: if you pluck them too roughly, they'll explode, and the red markings take weeks to wear off skin, even with dutiful scrubbing.

The Fishwives' Village — Five hours west is a small village close to the shore, home to...well, who knows if they're wives, but they have fish heads and bodies with humanoid arms and legs, and they wear little robes. Kind of like reverse mermaids. They are quite small, barely reaching four feet tall, and they speak their own language, leaving communication to little gesticulations and gestures. They live in small stone huts, arranged in concentric circles with a small market in the middle, and barter roast seafood, handicrafts, crabgrass beer, and small tools for off-world goods. Most of their culture seems to revolve around fishing and goods made of woven grasses. The fishwives are fussy about outsiders and carry little fishing spears when they visit, just in case.

The Shoreline — Long, long, long coastlines looking out at the sea, with beaches made up of smooth stones. There are plenty of interesting sea creatures to see in the rocky tide pools, but try not to handle anything indiscriminately (many things bite and some of those things are venomous). You can walk a long way out before the water gets deep, but be careful and make sure you aren't too far out when the tide comes in.

Rock Formations — Weathered in fascinating shapes from centuries of storms and high winds, these formations curl across the southeastern plains. They make swooping sounds when the wind passes through them, like deep and echoing woodwinds. Suneoff, resembling cat-sized mudskippers, dwell in the formations' shadow, while the bat-like knassu nest in the better protected crannies.

4. A Very Wet Last Day

Looks like we didn't manage to miss the rain. The storm clouds on the horizon take their sweet time to arrive, but on the last full day before departure, wardens and inmates will wake to the sound of heavy rain on the roofs of their tents. For some, it may be a struggle to leave the warm, dry confines of the tent to venture into rain. It's the kind that comes down relentlessly, soaking you to the skin within minutes, and cold to boot.

To make matters worse, the rain has transformed the long grasses into a veritable slip-n-slide. Step too quickly and you might find yourself shooting down a sloping hill, or at the very least on your ass. Visibility drops to barely twenty feet ahead.

Packing up in this? Ugh. We have to be back on the ship by nightfall! Anyone who isn't aboard gets left behind.

Comments

[nineteenfortyfive]

1. DISEMBARKING

[Claire feels about a dozen things at once--fear and awe being at the forefront in equal amounts--but is eager to get off the ship. She misses sunshine and grass beneath her feet, even if it's... blue. It's fine. Totally fine. None of this is stranger than time travel, right? Sure.

While she will be looking to see if her own temporary inmate wants to head down (hello, Volk), she can be approached by any inmate and asked to chaperone. Or, if an inmate is looking particularly forlorn, she might initiate a conversation.

Fellow wardens will just get her unadulterated, wide-eyed reaction that might linger for a while.]

It's beautiful, isn't it?

2. CAMP

[As at ease Claire might have seemed in the greenhouse or infirmary, she seems quite happy at camp.

At night, she's there to start a campfire. Your resident surgeon also is pretty good with fire, go figure.]

I don't know if now's a good time to share scary stories.

[Considering SOME people are the scary stories themselves. Yikes.]

3. LOVER'S KISS

[Collect medicinal plants? Don't mind if she does. Claire's eager to see this "Lover's Kiss" for herself, carefully picking her way about foliage so as to not accidentally step on anything. So far, no dice. She's not deterred, though.]

Any luck for you?

[Whether she encounters you on the hunt or tagged along, she's chipper despite having not found a thing yet. Everything is a nice distraction.]

3

[dealwiththe]

No.

[ Lucifer is definitely not dressed for camping, or foraging for flowers for that matter. And he looks vaguely annoyed, in contrast to Claire’s chipper-ness. He puts his hands on his hips for a moment. ]

There’s delayed gratification, and then there’s this.

[ He mutters that to himself; Claire may or may not hear. Then he clears his throat. ]

Time to speed up the process a bit.

[ He rolls his shoulders, and giant white wings unfurl from his back. It’s a huge twelve-foot wingspan, beautiful and white and almost glowing faintly as if from within. Then he’s off - keeping low, circling around, clearly hunting for a glimpse of red among the blue grasses. ]

3;

[grindset]

[With a collection vessel tucked at his hip and his eyes down, stepping mindfully not only for the sake of flora and fauna, Viktor is out here, too. His crutch sticks up out of the grass at an angle, red accents distinct, propped against a nearby rock.]

Nothing yet. ...Well. Bugs.

[He skims his palm across blue blades, wonders how it might feel without the glove—something to try later, alone.

So deadpan it's hard to tell he's kidding,]

Do you think the Navarch would accept them as a substitute?

2

[lessandmorethanhuman]

Oh come on, it's the perfect time to share scary stories.

[Alex had studied her setting up the camp-fire, noting the wardens got access to tools the inmates didn't. Because of course they did. He's sitting nearby.]

I must be bored to suggest this, but think of it as like an ice-breaker thing. Because we're on an alien planet, camping, and the change of scenery is GREAT!

1

[kaijuice]

[ Beauty tastes wrong. Silco looks a man braced against the very air; half-squinting, nose wrinkled — ]

A touch more like home?

[ Surely more so than the Peregrine. The turn of his head, the quirk of a brow, both come a touch too slow for honest ease.

(Fuck, but this place is flat.) ]

1

[saklas]

Sure. Can't wait to see them drop us in a quarry and say it's an alien planet, like every low-budget sci-fi.

[If the Vasquez Rocks are out there, he is going to retroactively win every argument from now until the beginning of time.]

OTA

[dealwiththe]

[ Lucifer has zero interest in plants, medicinal or otherwise, but as far as he's concerned, a deal is a deal - and the deal this port is gather some flowers in exchange for getting some fresh air.

Fine.

So he spends a couple of hours the first day ashore gathering a number of the little things where he can find them. Of course, he quickly discovers for himself how delicate they are when he grabs a few with too much force. This is why he will spend the entire weekend with a couple of red marks on his throat that look like hickeys. ]

1. Come fly with me.

[ Once he's completed his errand, he's free. And for Lucifer, freedom means flying. He eschews the ATVs - he's got wings for crying out loud. So, it's very possible that if your character just looks up, wherever they are, they might spot a ridiculously handsome guy in a ridiculously expensive suit - flying around with great big white glowing angel wings. And obviously having fun, doing corkscrews and stuff.

Or, you might spot him perched high up on a rocky outcropping. You may hear a slight scuffle from above, as he accidentally landed on a knassu nest. ]

2. Beach trip.

[ Lucifer has always liked the beach. This planet is no exception to that, so when he takes a break from flying, he'll spend a little time just chilling on the beach. You are most likely to find him just standing there, apparently gazing out at the ocean. Look closer, and you'll discover he's not gazing at all - his eyes are closed. He's lost in thought, perhaps? Or memory. He takes some deep breaths, and there's a small smile on his face.

Feel free to interrupt him, I guess, if you're a jerk. ]

3. Back on board.

[ Lucifer categorically refuses to go camping. He has a perfectly good bed in a perfectly comfortable cabin and that's where he is going to sleep. Which means he won't be spending all 72 hours on shore - he'll be back at the Peregrine, and can be found in various places on the ship, possibly supervising inmates who are in time out or just doing patrols, or maybe going through the movie collection in the resource library. ]

[ ooc: anything else? got an idea not covered here? drop a starter or hit me up on plurk/discord! ]

1. Come Fly with Me--scuffle

[lessandmorethanhuman]

[It wasn't as easy to climb the rocks and outcroppings as it would've been with his powers, but Alex still did it. He wanted to explore damnit. So far he hasn't run into any Knassu, but he does look up when there's the sounds of a scuffle.

Huh, the guy really did have wings. Alex still hadn't made up his mind if he believed he was the Lucifer Morningstar. Mostly because he hadn't figured out what that'd mean for what it said about all of this. They were very pretty at least.

Finding a safe perch of his own, Alex makes sure his position is secure before calling out to the other.]

Need a hand?

Beach

[sanctus_dei]

[Without an assigned Warden, it's a little easier for Theo to get lost in the shuffle and sneak off for some peace and quiet. Probably much to the annoyance of the Wardens, since Theo has already proven he's a flight risk and won't hesitate to take off.

Theo actually really loves a beach like this, considering his hometown. While he was content for awhile to just walk along and enjoy it, he's not too happy when he spots a Warden nearby. Maybe Lucifer hasn't seen him yet? Good. He's not paying attention. So all he has to do is cut behind him, give him a wide berth and--

That's when Theo stops concentrating on his footing, and slips on a rock. Down he goes, not hurt but now wet, annoyed and embarrassed.]

Fuck.

3, research library, morning of second day;

[grindset]

[The ship's library is quiet enough to be judged empty, at least for a while. Some minutes in, somebody coughs—three times, if the devil is counting, and a softer clearing of the throat after. This somebody doesn't project his follow-up sigh loud enough to be heard beyond the curved glass panes of the study space, but maybe it's felt anyway. Spiritually.

Viktor is there, less bright than early, with an extra cowlick in his hair and a cup in his hand. (What restrictions. Let him live.) On emerging, he notices his fellow warden a little too late to stop himself yawning, and so hastily turns it aside behind his wrist; the result resembles some cryptid creature cringing from detection with coffee as peace offering and/or shield.]

1

[shiftedshape]

[That is a THREAT if the Fishwife ever saw one. It's a good thing they've surrounded their hut with a variety of spears.

Unfortunately, being they are only four feet tall, none of their throws get anywhere near the creature, but perhaps the display of sharp will be enough to scare it away? Fly somewhere else, weirdo!!!]

[rank1]

Disembarking
Sweet mother of Mario, it's an alien planet. It looks like something right out of a video game about space, and the first breath Travis breathes in this place feels incredible –– the air is cool and salty, the unchecked possibility is heady. It's a whole new fucking world.

His first thought is: fuck flowers, fuck camping. He's not on a planet in outer space to do fetch quests. That shit is padding, employed by duplicitous game designers who know their gameplay and story can't stand up to an $80 price tag, so they gotta stretch out a perfectly fine 40 hour campaign to 80 hours. This shit is exactly why he hasn't picked up some bullshit ***** ******* game in years. Or any game by *******. Fuck those guys. Indie games are where it's at. He's been playing so many indie games and it's been a breath of fresh air, same as –––

Anyway.

His second thought is that he has shit to do. Places to go, things to see. They've got 72 hours on this rock and he's going to drink in as much as he can. He won't even waste a minute on sleep. Let's fucking do this.

He runs up the nearest hill to get a good vantage point, and at its top, he bellows triumphantly, arms spread wide:

"Alien planet!!"

[rank1]

Misadventuring I Closed to Waver, Rhys and Jack

Travis really wanted to drive the ATV, but this square warden said no. It's been itching at him for two hours. Waver's fine. "Nice", or would be considered so if that was a word Travis ever felt inclined to use on people. Listening to him talk about magical theory is fine. But god if the guy isn't a boring driver. Travis has the brief image of himself as a toddler, in diapers and a t-shirt with a picture of a Disney character on it, strapped into a car seat for hours. Bored out of his fucking mind. He then he realizes that he is 34 and the crossed straps of the ATV's bucket seats are functionally the same fucking thing. He looks down at his shirt. It's got a picture of an anime girl on it.

Well, at least he's not wearing a diaper.

He looks across the narrow aisle to Jack. He thinks, briefly, about how cool she looks. He bets she's bored as fuck too.

He says: "You getting tired of this?"

[rank1]

Misadventuring II Closed to Rhys and Jack

Travis is having a real good time driving the ATV.

It doesn't handle quite like Schpeltiger, but Schpeltiger is to motorbikes as the ATV is to cars. It's big. It's wide. It gets insane speeds, and if you hit an incline just right, it gets airborne, just for a second or two. You feel that fraction of a second where you're weightless, and your guts float up in your belly and your breath catches. The rattle of your jaw when you land again, laughing, as 6500 lbs of vehicle hits the ground. The wheels have a funny resistance on landing. Full of petroleum jelly, he bets. Kevlar reinforced.

And despite having only handled the vehicle for a few hours, Travis has settled into it like he's owned it for a lifetime. No seatbelt, his jacket slung over the seat, the wrapper of a pack of rationed snacks strewn on the dash. The music is cranked up as loud as it'll go –– Ummm, you're packed and you're stacked 'specially in the back! Brother, wanna thank your mother for a butt like that! (Thanks, Mom!). Though it is not Travis' usual fare, he has to give some past driver his thanks for leaving behind this bomb-ass mixtape. He has not felt this relaxed in weeks. Half the time, he only has one hand on the wheel.

He's having the time of his life, and at 90mph to boot. Every time they hit a bump, Waver's head bobs like it's bobbing to the music. Extremely funny.

"You guys need to stop to take a leak soon?" he shouts, over the music. Hey, he can be a dad.

[professor_charisma]

Misadventuring III: The Inmate Wrestling Federation Locked to Waver, Travis, Jack, Rhys

Ah, night on a foreign planet. What's more thrilling than unfamiliar stars above, the strange calls of animals you can't even imagine, a cool breeze and a warm fire... Truly a unique and life-affirming trip for everyone involved.

For everyone except one (1) Waver Velvet, Lord El-Melloi II, Head of the 12th Modern Magecraft Theories Department of the Clock Tower, who had been snuck up on by one (1) Travis Touchdown, the Crownless King, the No More Hero, and summarily suplexed.

Could he have seen himself getting knocked in the back of the head? Sure. A sleeper hold, even? Maybe. But not this. This is what Waver gets for taking a pit stop. They really should have just kept moving.

Just as the inmates are relaxing, enjoying an alien evening, the door to the ATV pops open, and out stumbles Waver, hurting all over and looking around wildly. He probably could have checked his location on the console inside, but his brain hadn't quiet caught up to speed yet, and the light of the fire had caught his attention.

There was some relief to see them all there safe, really. They didn't run off, he wasn't somewhere alone. But that feeling fades quickly as it's replaced with the stabbing pain in his shoulder. He stumbles a few feet forward towards the group, holding his shoulder and looking at each one in turn.

"What. The. Bloody hell. Was that."

wildcaaaaaaaard, lmk if anything needs changing

[omniavincit]

“You hear that?”

They've been tramping through grass—blue grass—that sometimes brushes their knees, eyes fixed on the cryptic slabs of rock in the distance. William's pictured the jawbone of some tremendous, long-dead creature jutting out of the earth. The teeth scattered. He's been in good spirits, trekking across this unfamiliar landscape—trailing a hand over the grass, watching for alien bugs bounding ahead of his steps. His expression as animated as their surroundings.

He stops. He holds his breath, listening to the low musical groan, a sound that seems to wind and wend its way to their ears. He looks to Travis, expectant.

[saklas]

0. 🅶🅰🅼🅴🅿🅻🅰🅽 (closed to Rhys)
The day of the Navarch's announcement, Volk texts Rhys before she's even finished talking.

jvolkhov: so, a port like that?

The one we haaaaad to wait for, he means.

1a. 🅲🅾🅼🅿🅰🅽🅸🅾🅽🆂 (closed to Rhys, Travis, Waver)
Volk's got a bag of stuff.

What! It's not suspicious, he's going camping. It's fun. We're having fun you fucking idiot.

Rhys is with him. It's deja-vu is what it is, back here in the garage the same as they were the first day - but now with a lot more of a plan.

His eyes sweep the room as he gnaws a nail absently. They need a warden that's either a soft touch, trusts Volk or Rhys a lot, or-

Or, Travis could be right there, with someone Volk is positive Travis could overpower. Volk elbows Rhys.

3. 🆂🅰🅺🅻🅰🆂 (closed to Rhys, Travis, Jack, Waver)
It's going to be difficult to make Travis and Rhys get along for this, Volk knows. He can only keep them apart for so long, but at the very least after a few hours he won't have to. As soon as the three of them can get this damn thing to a road, they can start nutribulleting each other for all he cares. Until then, if he can keep them focused on either the goal or the warden, that'll do a lot of the work for him.

The girl is a totally unknown quantity, and Volk doesn't mind her coming with them, but he's going to have half an eye on her the entire time until they're out of range for her to call in wardens with guns.

Oh yes. He's noticed you carry guns.

(There's a memory bothering him, a dream he had a few weeks ago. A sharp crack, a fracturing -)

He's got in a bag two changes of clothes and food he's been saving. He'd put money on them being a few hundred miles out in a desert somewhere. Normally he'd be checking to make sure Rhys did it too, but at this point in the game he's so close to escape he can taste it and he just doesn't have the patience for babysitting.

He misses Hera, Gail, Cory, his parents, even Michael - like they're just as wired into him as cigarettes were in the first few weeks. Like he had no idea how dependent he'd gotten, and their absence was causing cascade failures in every receptor that had gotten used to the chemicals they provided. Love is chemicals. It's worse when he's so close to seeing them again. It's the apple on a branch just above his head.

He pushes his glasses up in a way he knows hides his expression, and steps down the ramp for the first time. Swallows hard. The wave of dread hits him as he hears the metal clink of his shoes change tone from the deck to the thinner metal of the ramp.

Why? Why let us out? How do they think they'll get us back? What's the catch?

What am I missing?

The thing he's missing is a step, as the ramp drops him down a warren in the ground that hadn't been visible from further up. His bag falls on top of him, then the whole momentum sends his taxi fare - one tarot card - fluttering down after both of them.

1b. 🅰🅻🅸🅲🅴 (ota)
He swears in a colorful mix of real and imaginary languages, skins an elbow, nearly loses a shoe. He claws his way up from under the earth, grabbing handfuls of dirt and remembering - ha ha - he's supposedly dead. His family probably buried something symbolic. Did they? He hauls the bag that represents everything he owns right now out - it had, of course, followed him down and landed directly on his head. Could they even find anything to bury?

He can see sky through the opening, there's dirt in his hair - fuck! - but he can see the sky for the first time in months and it's so bright that it's dazzling. He hauls himself up towards a slice of blue and for a moment when he emerges he thinks the rest of the planet has simply disappeared, and left him alone, just him and infinite sky.

Blue above, blue below. He could fall into it again, if he's not careful. A haze of lilac across the horizon is what he picks out first, as his eyes adjust, and what he'd taken for more white clouds is cascading shimmers of sunlight catching on pearly waves of grass. If home is here, if the real world is under this awake-dream somewhere, he can't even see it.

It's been 964 hours since he's had a certain green tablet, he did the math yesterday. One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small. And the ones you aren't taking don't do anything at all-

Volk giggles like he's just about had enough of this horseshit, this horseshit being a general way of referring to the process of being alive and dealing with sensory input.

"Fuck this. Fuck this. What is everyone else seeing?"

1

[smugreport]

[ This is exactly what Rhys has been waiting for. They had to touch down at some point, and it's way sooner than expected to boot. ]

Exactly like that. No idea what this planet's going to be like, but anything after Pandora's gonna be a cakewalk. I got this.

[ It's go time baybeeee ]

Theo Crawford | OTA

[sanctus_dei]

1.
[Hello, it's your local unpaired inmate who's a possible flight risk and self-harm risk. If you think he's waiting to be babysat or for permission to visit an alien goddamn planet, you're sorely mistaken. While a close eye should be kept on him by someone, very time a warden turns around, he's gone off to explore on his own.

One easy way to catch up on him is looking for Lover's Kiss. He hadn't planned on doing so, he didn't care about helping the Navarch or the wardens with anything, but he also hadn't planned on stumbling across so much of it at one time. It's a very attention-grabbing plant, and as a mage, he can't help but stop to look them over. He was trained a bit by an alchemist after all, so this is one thing he actually knows a little about. It's making him feel nostalgic, but that's a hard feeling for a 19 year old to place. Imagine of Doc saw these, imagine what they both could have made with--

No. Get those thoughts right the hell out of here.

Theo hasn't picked any of the plants yet, but instead seems strangely absorbed in inspecting them and not hearing anyone walking up behind him.]


2.
[Despite being a pale as hell Irish kid, Theo actually really loves the beach, especially a nice rocky one like this. The sound, the smell, the endless expanse of water ahead of him made even better by the fact that this stretch of it was practically empty. Nothing but Theo and rocks and water. If only it could stay this way.

As nice as it is to be here, to be off the ship and away from the wardens, Theo is feeling more shiftless than ever. He spends some time inspecting the tide pool, wishing he at least had a notebook and pencil to document all the strange creatures inside them. Nope, we can't have that. What about a fishing pole and some bait? No, surely a rod and hook would be considered dangerous in an inmate's hands. Why bother asking?

Theo's scrappier than he looks, and he has a lot of practice navigating San Francisco's rockier shorelines back home, so he can make it out to the water without any trouble. By the time anyone can find him here, he's far out into the water, up to his waist, fully clothed and not giving one last damn. His pack of supplies and communicator sits on the shore, waves lapping at the edges.

And he just... stands there. Staring out at the alien sunset, seemingly transfixed. If someone calls his name, he doesn't respond. He doesn't move. Maybe he can't hear you, maybe he's ignoring you. But to reach him, it seems like you're going to have to get a little damp.]

1;

[grindset]

[This one's gone off on his own, too.

And maybe Theo hasn't heard him approach because his narrow frame makes hardly a dent in the tall grass, and he's been lying there this whole time, hoping whoever is out there will go away. Maybe he's happy down here, frowning at the alien sky. Maybe he'll just lie here forever.

But whoever is out there doesn't seem to be going away. And he did sign up for something important.

So Viktor stirs, sitting up slowly, like a scarecrow rising in the field, and stays seated there, visible only from the chest up. Their respective brooding sites aren't close to each other, exactly, but close enough at least that he doesn't have to break the silence by shouting.]

Did you find something?

[He looks like maybe he died and hasn't noticed yet. Also there is grass in his hair.]

Waver et al. | OTA

[professor_charisma]

Misadventuring IV: The More the Merrier

Any Wardens or Inmates who have been wondering where a sizable portion of their total group had gone off to, you're in luck. Early in the night, a flare is sent up - courtesy of a spell by Waver. It will lead them to the campsite of him, Jack, Travis and Rhys. Everyone is alive for now.

[OOC: To keep the other threads from getting crowded, anyone who wants to show up and deal with this group can do so here!]

yes today, satan

[dealwiththe]

Lucifer is, in fact, heading back to the ship when he spots the flare. He's midair, so it's pretty obvious to him.

"Hey!" he calls to whomstever is below. "It looks like someone might be needing help!" He points, and then he's off - whether someone on the ground below bothers tagging along, is up to them he supposes.

He lands near where the flare went off, and approaches the camp on foot.

"All right, what in the bloody hell is going on here?" he calls, announcing his presence. Why wouldn't he? It's not like anyone can hurt him.

OTA

[lessandmorethanhuman]

1. Disembarking
At this point, Alex was sick of the Peregrine so of COURSE he's going to get out and about for a bit. Fresh air, a chance to do more than just walk the same paths over and over? That, and maybe he was just a little bit excited and more than a little curious about an actual alien to him planet.

It actually shows--that he's impressed, and curious. Crouching down to touch the blue grass in wonder. Then a few cautious steps away before he's taking a moment to sit, and stare up at the sky. Even pulling a few strands of the blue grass and holding them up to study them.

2. Camping
Alex is IN for camping. At least for the few days they're here. That, and well...he had never been camping before. He knew what to do, how to do it, had memories of it that were part of him now. But it was new to him--and Alex was curious. If allowed, he'll help with setting up a campfire, or anything.

You might even be able to find him testing if the grasses can be woven together into useful stuff. Yes--he's basket weaving.

3. Lover's Kiss
He's less than thrilled to be hunting for flowers, but there is definitely a large part of him that is curious about the medicinal properties. Would they be allowed to know what they were? What the flowers did?

Mind, as soon as he's spotting a few of them, he's laughing. Even for a plant they just look so... Something. He probably should've expected it with the name, but really?

Still, he's careful to pluck them. Used to how to handle specimens for science, even if he hadn't been a botanist. No red for him.

4. Misadventures
The Fishwife village had made him look around with wonder yet again. Here was an alien species, but it also had recognizably human-ish features in some ways. Why? How?

He only has some shiny beads so he has to barter carefully. Thin rope or cording, and if he's not stopped--a tiny knife. If asked, he'll explain he wants to do some hunting--see if he can bag a littari or two. If he gets the knife w/o intervention, he's just going to pocket it.

Then, like he said--he's going hunting. Weaving the grasses together to a box or bowl-type shape with the cording for sturdiness. Propping it up with a stick, and baiting it with seeds or a bit of dried fish or whatever. Then, it's just going about his day but periodically checking the trap.

If anyone would let him, and needs him to, he'll drive an ATV (and actually be responsible alright?). It's a different experience than the ones he knows but it's fun. He'll only go reasonably vroom--not tear off like a maniac.

5. Exploring

Alex will admit this is actually very cool. Being on an alien planet. Definitely outside any of his experience. So he's going to explore. You might find him on the beach, where he's careful but examining the water and the wild-life. He might even be walking along the shore with his shoes and socks in one hand, and jeans rolled up.

Or you can definitely find him climbing among the rock structures. Not as easy for him as climbing a Manhattan skyscraper, but he's determined. And his human body is in plenty good shape, at least; agile and strong enough anyways for this.

6. Wildcard
[Got an idea and it doesn't fit in one of these prompts? Feel free to poke me.

4

[shiftedshape]

[Sure, other Fishwives are selling spears and knives, but are there others that are only selling spears and knives? The Fishwife's wares are nearly blindingly bright, yet still they work at polishing each and every blade, only pausing when an outsider approaches.

Staking the spear they'd been working on in the ground, they gurgle in as welcoming a manner as they might, gesturing at their many blades. Do you want one? Then, before the stranger can answer, the Fishwife sticks their hand out, grasping. What can you give me for it?]

Theon Greyjoy | OTA

[reek]

1. Disembarking

[ Theon has yet to be paired with a warden—and thank gods, he thinks, resistant to the idea of a stranger picking him apart trauma by trauma. That does make it a little difficult to leave the Peregrine, however, and he finds himself immediately thrown into an argument when he’s barred from leaving on his own.

He is quite loud. ]

You do realize that every one of the thieves and murderers you just let off board is going off on their own the moment they’re out of view? Why should I need permission to merely breathe air outside of this rusted chamberpot?

[ Theon--you...you’re a thief and a murderer too. ]

2. Camp

[ Theon is no stranger to a good, old fashioned campsite. Tents are tents, no matter how you try to spin them, and he almost seems content to be among the sea of them. Finally, something familiar. It's almost comforting.

That is, until he spiess the camping stove. ]

What is that?

[ He is visibly annoyed, irritated that even a campsite can’t just be a campsite. There has to be something wrong with it. Local medieval man yells at cloud. ]

3. Shoreline

[ Theon has no money and nothing to barter with. He has no weapons with which to hunt and trusts the ATVs about as far as he can throw them. He trusts the other inmates and wardens even less. That leaves him with somewhat limited options at this port.

But that’s fine, because he's found the shoreline. He knows that what he's gazing out at is not the Sunset Sea, but he can breathe in the salt air, listen as the waves lap at the shore, and it's all enough for him.

He was born of the sea, and no matter how long he's away from it, he'll never stop feeling a certain affinity for it. You can find him here all weekend long, either wading in the sea or staring into he horizon. ]

What do you suppose is on the other side?

[ He’s daydreamed all day long about simply diving in, swimming toward the opposite coast until his arms can no longer carry him, and finding himself at home. It’s a childish sort of thought, but it’s better than allowing his mind to wander to more upsetting matters. ]

4. Wildcard

[ Whatever you please! I’m not picky. ]

3

[nineteenfortyfive]

Maybe someone else wondering the same thing.

[Except likely not human, like them. The fish... people? Fishwives? Are still sort of alarming, to Claire. And maybe a little cute.]

Unlikely anything grand when it comes to civilization, here.

[expectaspectre]

1. DISEMBARKING
[ Grace is clearly going to take advantage of the opportunity to put her feet on solid ground, with some solid-looking boots and a warmer-looking sweater on than usual. Right now, she’s rummaging through the loading bay before heading out. She has a basket, which might contain lunch or might be for gathering those creepy flowers, but it looks like she’s looking for more, digging through the camping supplies, muttering quietly to herself all the while.]

Sleeping bags, sleeping bags… Camp stove? No… Mosquito nets? Hope we don’t need those…. C’mon, where are the sleeping bags…?

3. MISADVENTURING: THE SHORELINE
[ Something about open water has always made Grace feel energized. Even this weird place with its depressingly grey sky and grass that makes her feel colorblind, even here she gets a buzz from the smell of the shore.

It took a while to get out this far on foot, and her back’s starting to kill her, but since there’s nobody around, maybe for miles… Grace sets her bag of supplies down, does some stretches, takes a deep breath…

…and rises into the air. For a few minutes, at least, she can ride some air currents and just see where the wind takes her. This was the true reason for her leaving the ship— this little grasp of freedom. ]

FLYING BUDDIES

[dealwiththe]

[ What's funny is, Lucifer disembarked for precisely the same reason as Grace. Fresh air, and the chance to stretch his wings a bit. Feel the wind in his face. Do some corkscrews. Find a really high spot to get a good view of the whole area, because he loves a beautiful vista.

He doesn't expect anyone else to be flying around, however. Not that he's displeased - on the contrary! He's not sure exactly who it is from this distance, so he unfurls his wings and takes to the air. When she comes into clearer view, he waves. ]

I didn't know anyone else could fly! Not a bad day for it, is it?

[ He's perfectly cheerful, the white feathers of his massive wings glowing a bit in the sun. Lucifer is chipper and happy to make conversation. ]

[shiftedshape]

How It Happened

The plan had been: get a lay of the land, see what inmates might need an escort, go back and get an inmate who seemed unlikely to take advantage of the current setting. It wasn't his most elaborate of plans, and yet it still managed to go to shit almost immediately. Although, perhaps as he's about to descend the gangplank is not the best time to be checking his communicator for the current list of names.

Malekith?! That can't be right. That's-- that's absurd. Loki's head shoots up, mostly out of offense at the very idea, not because he expects to see anything. Yet as he wheels around to head back in, get some answers, there's a figure, watching as people make their way out, tall and still and sticking to the shadows.

"No. You're-- No." Loki bares his teeth, strides forward with his knives in hand and-- loses his footing as the ship finally settles into its final position. For a brief second he's all flailing arms and wide eyes, and then he's slipping out of sight, over the edge. Gone.

A. Fishwives, Fishwives, Rolly-Polly Fishwives!

The Fishwife is, like all the others, wary of the strange, tall outsiders. They keep a watchful eye as newcomers enter the village. They tighten their grip on their spear. Spears, if any of them seem particularly threatening.

But compared to the others, this Fishwife is far more bold, in the right circumstances. If approached at their market stall-- if it can be called that, it's more a circle of spears staked into the ground around a pile of knives and razors --they'll gurgle excitedly, gesture at their wares. Look, they seem to say, I have many sharp things for you! They aren't particularly careful about how they gesture with the spears. You might want to step back a bit.

What really attracts them, though, is the sight of an outsider sharing their own sharp thing. They lose all sense of cautiousness, really, at that point. That is something they want. They need. Would you like to trade? Don't worry about the spear point they're jamming into your calf, that's truly an accident. They're just excited.

B. The Rain Never Bothered Me Anyway

Once the Fishwife has secured a tarp over their blades, they have little to be concerned about, in the rain. If anything, the rain seems to have calmed them. Compared to the frantic sales tactics of the earlier days, the Fishwife is far more zen. Who doesn't like the rain? Staring up at it? With your mouth open?

It makes it easy to sneak up on them, in any case. If one needed to do that.

C. Anyway, Where Were We? || Closed to Bucky and Malekith

Apparently being transformed back into his usual self leaves him just as wet as he was as a-- as a fish. But that indignity is the last thing on his mind.

The instant he clambers (gracefully) off the back of Bucky's ATV, his knives are back in his hands and he's stalking off into the ship.

"MALEKITH!" His voice is raw, too loud for the small spaces of the ship. All thought of going to the Navarch first has been replaced by that last image of that elf staring back at him. Alive. Here.

If Barnes chooses to follow (which, given his insistence when it came to collecting him earlier, seems likely) it won't take long to figure out that Loki hasn't exactly figured out where he's going. He's moving through the halls, taking long strides forward, but it's all primal rage fueling him. Intelligent thought isn't part of the equation.

c. and now, back to the show

[counterstep]

There's something to be said about anyone who can switch from being a fish person to their original form (involuntarily) and still have enough wits about them to slip off a vehicle elegantly before summoning their weapons and proceeding to storm off without so much as a blink. Loki's certainly in his own category of competent. Bucky doesn't have much time to admire the Asgardian's mental fortitude though, realizing the severity of Loki's strides and hopping off the ATV to jog after him.

Malekith. He'd seen the name appear on the roster some days back, but it hadn't stood out as anything noteworthy aside from just another name to remember and perhaps someone to look into later when the prospect of sun and sea are no longer as tempting as they are. Apparently Loki's acquaintance?

Nonetheless, he follows. And he follows. And further still he follows. And after a point, it's difficult to excuse the patternless wandering combined with Loki's weapons being drawn. They're not mindless predators hunting prey. Loki's above this. He graduated. This isn't the way.

"Are you trying to get demoted?" are the words that finally slip from his lips. "You're gonna make a scene."

viktor ;

[kaijuice]

The grass muffles rough as linen winding; a rustle of blades that at once sinks and alarms the step. It prickles the hair of his neck, an awareness that refuses to settle. Exposure:

Distinctly unpleasant. Not unfamiliar.

Silco lies stiff in the plastic chair where he's been propped, a bizarre blaze of beach pattern and sullen bandage.

"It strikes me," The scrape of weeds isn't enough to disguise that thump-drag — "That we haven't been properly introduced."

A reed hat has at some point toppled from his head, abandoned in the grass.

[grindset]

"That's true."

This distinct gait stops not very far away, beyond arm's reach—maybe within a quick scramble-from-the-chair's reach. Feet settle, the third leg dragging into place last of all. None of it happens in a hurry.

"Viktor," he supplies, because it doesn't matter; he's been around, his name's been on the network. Recognition would have induced something by now.

Amid the rustle of so, so many stalks, the gentle sound of a CommLink unfolding; a conspicuous pause; then it claps shut, undisguised.

"Nice shirt."

bucky;

[kaijuice]

His manner shifted the moment the shore washed into view, no longer hunched against the sun. He looks almost at home here — even his eye cuts less ruinous beside twisted kelp, bubbled carapace; all the alien texture of life.

He walks. Skips an experimental stone, pockets another. Pours seawater over his hair, sucking the sting back through his teeth.

He is disinterested in company. But here company is, and there Silco is:

Leaning over a tidepool, hand extended to some ribbonous thing; nearly an eel, save for a rainbow profusion of frills. It twists over his hand with undisguised curiousity. Mutual.

(Entranced. He is entranced.)

His palm lowers. Encouragement. The creature slithers up, winds about his wrist; flashes spots-stripes-spots.

And then.

Then it rears back, and spits something in his face, and he staggers; strangles out an involuntary sound. The eel hisses, still on him, and lunges for his cheek. It brings them both — Silco and eel — tumbling ass-over-teakettle onto the rocks, each struggling to rip free.