returnjourneylogs | SET SAIL: FIRST IMPRESSIONS

SET SAIL: FIRST IMPRESSIONS

January 1, 2022 – January 7, 2022
Welcome to the new year and the Return Journey's opening event! We're starting with something light to get everyone acclimated and so no one feels they've missed too much if they app after the holiday season. We'd like to make it easy for any new players to jump in right away.

If you have any questions about the event, please ask here.

1. What? My name is who? My name is—

Salutations! Now that everyone's respective warden and inmate orientations are out of the way, you've been given a helpful, mandatory name tag. It instantly appears on your shirt and can't be taken off, though where it appears on your shirt is a bit more unpredictable; it's an imperfect science, so it's just as likely to pop up on the back of your shirt as the front. If you try to remove your clothes, the tag appears on your skin; they're waterproof, so a quick shower won't get rid of it, either. What can we say — it's mandatory.

While the tags all follow the standard "HELLO my name is" format and have your name or most common alias, they also include some other information. For wardens, it features a space that declares "I LIKE" and one or two of your most choices hobbies. For inmates, it features these hobbies and "I have killed [x] people" (this may be a specific number or something akin to "a lot of" or "no"). Fun icebreaker, right?

2. Twenty Questions

Speaking of icebreakers, a brief announcement summons everyone to the observatory. Again, yes, it's mandatory; wardens must retrieve absent inmates before any more information is revealed. Better hop to it!

Upon arrival, passengers will discover that the Peregrine's resident bot force has reconfigured the observatory with small, portable cubicles, each with a transparent wall that retains a lovely view of the observatory's massive window. Each inmate is assigned their own cubicle and, upon entering, cannot leave without a warden's say so; the door only unlocks with a warden's CommLink.

Wardens are tasked with interviewing at least one inmate, to get a feel for their prospective charges. They can have as much time as they need to formulate what questions they want to ask, but that might leave some inmates waiting. Maybe that's on purpose, though. In any case, the exercise is over once an inmate is asked five questions and a warden receives five answers.

Archimedes will collect name tags after the interviews for incineration. The robotic owl is, notably, the only one who can remove them.

3. Polite Picnic

The greenhouse doesn't always have enough fresh produce to go around (and often what is collected is frozen and preserved), but given the circumstances — a new mission and new passengers — everyone can reap the rewards this month...if they share. A bot stationed in the mess hall mechanically tells anyone who crosses into range (whether they mean to visit the produce table or not) that they aren't to take more than three fruits and/or vegetables. If you choose not to abide by the rules...well, that depends if you're caught and by who.

The produce available are as follows:

Adalfane: Tastes like cocaine, but very nutritious, especially when eaten raw.
Tuadath: Smells awful, but very hearty when cooked, tasting a little like steak.
Tsanyi: Pure, sugary sweetness. Can be made into a refreshing drink, eaten raw, or sprinkled over a desert.

There are notably fewer tsanyi than adalfane or tuadath. But if everyone's nice and cooperates, each person can get exactly one.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Frustration growls out before thought paces vision. Silco whirls, smothers the words that might spill forth. Craning elbows drop like stone.

"Never better," Dry. The press of his back to glass (OCLIS si eman ym, olleH) is defensive, for all that his shoulders ease. One hand smoothes unrumpled cloth. What indignity? "Forgive the introduction, Miss Fraser."

She's trimly-attired, skin unlined for all the features of age. Plants and medicine — how pleasant. Not the sort scraped from cave.

Edited (wow html) 2022-01-02 03:41 (UTC)

"Just Claire's fine. And you're...?" She's not going to try and squint. She's nearsighted, this one.

That slightly less than perfect vision doesn't stop Claire from thinking he looks awful. Pale, scarred, and unnatural. Like someone had a good time beating the hell out of him. She tries to put on a face like she's unbothered. But it's there, in the downturn of the corners of her mouth and the concerned crease in her brow.

"Silco." He knows that look: A brave face for a burnt one. "Just, as it were."

It comes rarely below, where a brand might pass for itself. But paint his face until it gleams, and the good people above would still shy from its light.

He draws a step closer — regains some inner footing. Innocent,

"Is there something wrong?"

She lightly crosses her arms, regarding him with more open curiosity now, and a slight incline of her head.

"What happened to you?"

Might as well not beat around the bush.

"This?" He taps a cheekbone. Just checking, could be a discussion of his absent cravat — "A scratch. You really ought to disinfect them."

Plants, medicine. He smiles. It twists on the split edge of a lip. Silco blinks, orange stare unbroken, to add:

"But I'm no professional."

"The hell scratched you, a lion?"

It might just be a curiosity that will remain unsated if he doesn't volunteer the information, but she figures there's no harm in asking.

"A hound," Man's best friend, etcetera. "All bark until they aren't."

"What happened to the hound?"

She sees well enough what happened to him.

"I put it down."

Blunt.

Fair.

"How did you feel about that?"

How did it feel?

The collapse of weight. Ribs distended cavernous, then still. A girl in the rain,

(A hollow.)

"Like nothing at all." His chin tips aside: Plants and medicine. Very well, she's hardly wilted. "Have you experience?"

Six feet deep, or laid on high hill, a body still fills with blood.

"Putting down animals? Of course."

Putting down people too, but that's not something she advertises.

"Sometimes out of mercy, when they grow sick or old. Sometimes out of defense, when a beast comes to close to the house or the livestock. And sometimes, it's simply to feed people."

"Mn," The lift of his brows might be impressed, it may be altogether something different. "Who do you feed?"

"My family," she responds easily. "Neighbors, if they happen to be around."

Good times are not always prosperous for everyone, and she'd like to think their tenants would never go hungry. Not knowingly, at least.

"Aren't I supposed to be the one asking questions?"

"If you'd like, I might stand in a box," His eyes cut to the transparent cells. "Wave my hand and declare you a stone-faced mystery."

Back again,

"But it hardly seems productive."

"No one on god's green earth would consider me stone-faced," Claire says with a lift of her brows. "That said, where are you from?"

"The mines. A degree less pastoral — you must excuse my curiousity."

Curiousity, envy; these are similar emotions.

Christ. Let her clarify, though she already looks bothered by this.

"Mines? Like... for iron, coal? That sort?"

"Towers eat stone," It's slighter now, the way he rises for her discomfort — but it's there, in the lift of his shoulders. The tilt of his neck. Higher ground. "Progress eats steel."

And drinks its weight in blood. Who doesn't?

"Naturally," Claire replies, but it's more the human price that bothers her than anything else. "I hope life will be kinder to you, here."

For however long that may be.

SET SAIL: FIRST IMPRESSIONS

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