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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.

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.

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[When Viktor shakes his head, Theo lets out a disgusted scoff. He turns back to the plants, giving him the cold shoulder.]

Why should I do your work for you.

[Fair enough; back down it goes, then, into the grass.]

Our work, technically... but, valid.

[Viktor just sits there for a second, slouching, his hair all sticking out: the usual silhouette. He isn't looking at Theo anymore, just off at... wherever. Some formation in the distance.]

The buds will burst if you squeeze them. The pollen stains, I think. I haven't tried it yet.

[Yet.]

Your work.

[So he insists, back still to Viktor. Though now, Theo peeks back at him over his shoulder. Can't let a warden sneak up on him, after all.]

You can't make me do shit. What are you gonna do, put me in prison a second time? Take away my oh-so-many privileges?

[Looking back at the plants, Theo carefully plucks a flower, managing to do it properly. He turns it over in his fingers, and was about to put it in his pocket when Viktor remarks on the staining.]

Our work. Technically.

[Mildly spoken; the sharpest thing about it is the way his accent plucks at the consonants. Just facts.]

I'm not going to make you do anything. I was just out here.

[You can do whatever you want, I don't care, is not the responsible thing to say, so he does not say that, but he thinks it very loudly. The Admiralty can dissect space-time... can they hear thoughts? Hopefully not. (It isn't true, anyway, the not caring part; just some gloomy nonsense that satisfies in the moment.)]

[Theo turns around now, eyebrow raised skeptically.]

That's a pretty laissez-fucking-faire attitude for a Warden to have. Don't you have, I dunno, vast riches or something promised to you for a job well done?

[He absolutley refuses to believe anyone is here out of any sense of kindness or duty. There's no way anyone would take this job otherwise in his mind.]

[Vast riches—that's a little funny, and he breathes it out through his nose, soft.]

A bargain was made, yes... not for money.

[And that is all he is going to say about it.]

Are wardens typically in a hurry? Get in, get the job done, get out with their vast riches?

[Theo shrugs.] Money, power, whatever. Whatever meal ticket I am to you people.

[He tosses the bus at Viktor. Probably not best to catch it, but he's hoping he will. He wants to see what happens if they pop.]

Who'd wanna stick around in this gig any longer than they need to?

[Who, indeed?

Viktor isn't quick enough to catch. Doesn't even try, in fact, because he's not looking when Theo hucks the specimen his way, and so it bounces off his shoulder, light. He looks there, then down for what hit him— aha— and picks it up carefully with two fingers.]

People with rigid expectations of a timeline, [tossing it back, half-hearted but aimed well,] should not accept this kind of deal.

That so. Well, if you're in a hurry, hope ya never get assigned to me.

[The flower Viktor throws bounces lightly off of Theo's shoulder. While it's not enough force to explode, the delicate bud finally does crack, and Theo is left with a red smear on his shirt. He's very glad he didn't wear his suit down here. He gives Viktor a flat look.]

Thanks, jerk.

[As if he had no been trying to do the exact same thing to Viktor? He grabs another and throws it harder this time, because it's obviously the mature thing to do.]

[Obviously.

An automatic flinch, shoulders up, head turned, face scrunched. The flower kisses Viktor on the forearm, bursts with the smallest papery pop: powdery red bloom on bare skin, a dusting on the rolled cuff. His expression is comically unguarded as he comes out of it, eyebrows up and jaw loose.

It's difficult to look at the back of your own forearm, makes an undignified shape; he does it anyway.]

Well, [more or less talking to his own elbow,] that answers that question.

[Theo manages a slight smirk.]

There, now we're even.

[He picks another, but stands up now. Normally such a find would be thrilling stuff. New plants meant untold new alchemical possibilities, new reagents for changing spells up into exciting news combinations.

But now, it was useless to him. His skills locked, his library and research a universe away from him. He tosses the plant aside carelessly.]

Who knew coming to an alien planet would be so fucking dull.

[Viktor turns his arm to another angle—well, one of just two feasible angles, really—]

It's not what I expected, either.

[No rash, no swelling, just a stain; further examination can wait.

Should he also stand? Probably. In the listless spirit of ugh, I don't wanna, he slowly drags the collection vessel into his lap, hooks the strap over his shoulder, the action flashing his red elbow.]

Have you been to see the rocks? Those formations?

Just from a distance. I dunno. Maybe I'll try the beach. Who knows when I'll get to see another one after this.

[He likes the beach, especially a nice rocky one like they have here.

Theo turns to Viktor, giving him an appraising look. Sheesh, this guy looked worse off than he did somehow. They must let anyone be wardens.]

Why, you babysitting me now?

[Under observation, Viktor nods—yes, the beach, who knows when, good idea—and moves with intent to stand. His crutch comes up first, like a bent stake or a wizard's staff, red accents distinct amid all the blue, jerks rigidly in acceptance of his weight. With a little effort, lips pressed tight, he comes up after it.]

Technically?

[There, on his feet. Now to brush the grass off his pants. Is there some in his hair, there's probably some in his hair, better ruffle that too—]

Yes. Since we came to port. But, [aha, there was some,] no more than anyone else is meant to be. To be completely candid, I'm not interested in babysitting anyone—if that's the sort of treatment you require, we may not be a good match.

Well, you're in luck, cuz I don't. They didn't assign me a warden when I showed up, and I don't fuckin' want one.

[Famous last words. His time is coming.

Theo looks over his shoulder at the red smudge, wiping some off onto a finger, which is now bright red as well. Note to self, stop touching that stuff. He contemplates it with a frown.]

Everyone in this place treats me like a kid, but I'm not a fucking kid. [They do, with very good reason.] If I was a kid, I wouldn't be in this goddamned place.

Well, the easiest way to address this complaint is to age. I can only assume you have that well in hand.

[Done fussing, and apparently unconcerned by his own fabulous new dye job, he keeps his body angled just away from Theo—facing him, but not square, quietly aware of what even his own non-threatening silhouette might communicate.]

While we wait for that to happen, you'd might as well enjoy the scenery.

Yeah. I guess. [Theo's face alone was one of someone who was both young and old at once. A lot of living packed into 19 years.

He starts meandering slowly towards... somewhere. Hopefully the beach, but he wasn't sure even what direction it was in. It didn't really matter though. He speaks to Viktor as he walks off.]

Maybe I'll get lucky, get real lost and you'll all forget about me by the time you leave.

Well, no—

[Viktor considers the grass growing wider between himself and Theo, sighs, and starts after him.]

You're a part of this crew. Not willingly, I realize, but— [ugh, this terrain sucks—] someone would notice. I'd notice, now that we've met. So, I'm sorry to inform you, but it's too late to slip away.

[Theo stops, surprised and slightly annoyed about being followed.]

Maybe I'm more slippery than you think.

[Then again, being stranded on Planet Dullsville doesn't sound like a great plan. Mostly it was empty threats, the usual for Theo.

He starts ahead again.]

I know how to fish. I could fit right in here. Retired mage now leads simple life as a bored-out-of-his-mind fisher in some dusty corner of the universe. Better than a prison ship, that's for fuckin' sure.

[Start, stop, start again—a little exasperating, and he reacts on a delay, but he does react. The pace is Theo's to set, and that startled pause has bought him a few extra paces before he is, once again, tailed by this narrow blade of a man among the blades.

Or, maybe it's less the pause, and more—]

You're a mage?

Was. [That answer snaps back too quickly, through gritted teeth. His shoulders hunch, but he doesn't stop walking now.]

They took it from me. My casting ability. So now I'm nothing. Why not join the rest of the nothing on this backwater planet for good.

[More hot air, since he would never leave the Peregrine before ever getting a chance to have his power returned to him. Too bad he doesn't know that his permanent file recommends he never get it back: Too dangerously obsessed. Will backslide into destructive habits immediately. A severe danger to himself and others.]

[Viktor has never seen this file, only a name on a list—]

You could. [From behind, the steady rushing sound of grass, uneven strides, no faster.] If you want to become nothing, that's your decision to make—but that power does not belong to them, Theo. Not to the Admiralty, not to the Wardens, not to me—only to you. Don't be so quick to hand it off.

[Sorry Viktor, but he's stopping again. A couple of feet away, but Theo turns fully towards him, eyes narrowed in maximum skeptic mode. He steps towards him, doing his best to be imposing. There's almost nothing imposing about a half dead teenager who weighs about 100 pounds, except for those sunken eyes of his, which are leveled at Viktor's.]

What the hell kind of game is this, huh. Aren't you supposed to be a warden? Aren't you on the Navarch's side? Of fucking course it's mine. But they know exactly what I'll do with it the second they give it back to me.

[This is a challenge. He wants the wardens to argue with him, to fight with him, to give him good reason to hate them back.]

You willing to let them risk it?

Edited 2022-02-18 15:10 (UTC)

No, I—

[Viktor doesn't flinch when Theo rounds on him, and for the approach, his posture changes not at all; his own deep-set yellow eyes, in their bruised sockets, they're steady in reply.

In the half-second before he talks, though, his expression does flicker relieved. They aren't exactly running, but this ground and all its packed-in flora are challenging all the same.]

I won't pretend to know what it's like for you. We all, [a deeper breath, caught,] decide who or what we become, in spite of what we're given or what we lose. That choice is only yours. They can't... no one can make you into nothing. That's all I meant.

Yeah? Well what I am is a fucking monster. [That answer spills out of him before he can really stop it, and it shows in the way his face flinches.]. So what's better: that, or nothing? I was nothing, until they decided to bring me back to life and make me your problem. And neither of those choices were made by me.

[Theo can't stand another moment looking at Viktor, at someone so collected, and turns away to march off in double time.] I accepted what I was. It's everyone else who can't.

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grindset - 2022-02-18 20:49 (UTC) - Expand

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