then, one day, i was not alone

[corkscrewed]

» WHO? Martin Blackwood, Jonathan Sims, & anyone else!
» WHEN? Mid-May.
» WHERE? Crew quarters (closed) & observation deck (open.)
» WHAT? Martin looks for his boss and probably also talks to strangers.
» WARNINGS? Probably at least one discussion about a bloody pipe murder.

CREW QUARTERS (closed)

Martin is still faintly sure that this has to be some sort of weird fever dream, or maybe a much-delayed reaction to spending so much time in the tunnels beneath the Institute. Waking up here had been terrifying, but he'd gotten over it if only because he had no choice. So he'd collected himself and his strange new outfit, found a room of his own, and had finally begun skimming through the network on the weird little communication device he'd been given.

Answers. He'd hoped for answers, and he'd found Jon, and that felt like it had to mean something.

Which is why he's now on Deck Five with no idea where to go from here. "Jon?" he calls out hesitantly, trying to clumsily queue up Jon's contact on the comms device again. "I'm here," he sort of just shouts outside the doors to the crew quarters.

OBSERVATION DECK (open)

There's a tall young man standing right up at the window, not quite pressed against it - but nearly. He watches the planet that the station orbits, and there's something nervously pale about his face. Despite his clear uneasiness with this situation as a whole, he'll still offhandedly greet literally anyone who comes within earshot of him.

"You think there's anyone down there? On the planet, I mean. Not that I really buy into the whole 'aliens' thing, but I wouldn't have bought into 'kidnapped to space with a ship full of strangers' before this morning, either, right?" He's very English and a little desperately earnest, even if he doesn't pull his eyes immediately away from the window.

Comments

observation deck!

[wingstosee]

[ at this point, venus has a pretty good grasp of who all's on the station. she's been responding to things online, pacing around the halls, checking the rooms when she can - there are still people she hasn't met, but she's at least sort of seen them.

this person? is none of those things. she's never seen him, never had the whole conversation about herself with him - and judging from the way he's talking to her but not quite looking over, he's probably never actually seen her either.

she approaches him, coming just close enough for the light she gives off to become clear, and- well, no harm in being polite, right? she answers his question normally. ]

Probably not? [ she doesn't sound like she wants to say it, at least. ] I mean, it'd be nice if there was. But we've heard messages about "saving the world" and stuff like that. So... We're probably alone up here.

[corkscrewed]

That's weird, though, isn't it? All of this is weird.

[ he then, finally, as if it's an afterthought, turns to look at her- and then abruptly double-takes. ]

You, um- you have wings. I mean, I'm sure- you probably know that you have wings. I mean - I wasn't calling them weird, but- they are a little bit weird, aren't they?

[ he's going to get thrown out of an airlock. ]

[wingstosee]

[ theeere we go. she can't help but giggle at the reaction, her hand flying up to cover her mouth out of some sort of propriety. ]

Yeah. It is a little weird, huh? [ and she stretches one of them out, languidly letting it open - not even to its full width, but a few good feet out. enough for the eyes all over it to get used to a new angle, and take in a bit more information than she had before. ] I kind of like them, though? Even if it makes jumpsuits a massive pain, haha.

[ she doesn't sound like she's going to throw him out of an airlock, at least. ]

sorry about the delay - needed to wrap up something in another thread!

[corkscrewed]

Did you, um -

[ he honestly has no idea how to approach this, because he's honestly mostly just floored. ]

Are those... new?

no worries!! i figured, haha

[wingstosee]

Yeah. Well, sort of? [ and because she can't leave good enough alone, she elaborates. ] They came in a few weeks ago. So I guess they're technically new? But it feels like I've had them forever. You know, like... like you're picking up a bike you used to be able to ride, even if you forgot you ever owned it.

[ they're just... natural. normal. right. she didn't even have to get used to seeing in 360 degrees - it just made sense.

it's kind of hard to describe. ]

[question]

Jon had opened his door, not really sure how else to specify which room he was in and not willing to stand out in the corridor like an idiot. So when he hears Martin's voice he immediately pokes his head out — "Here, over here," — and gestures him in, closes the door behind him. He's claimed one of the smaller rooms, single bed and simple furniture, a first aid kid open on the bed. He's wearing the jumpsuit, and — well. His fingers are stuck together, aren't they, thumb and pointer and middle finger all stuck in some dark goop. But he's trying not to call attention to that.

"Good lord." He sounds exasperated rather than glad to see Martin, though he is that, too. "What was all that nonsense about then? A guest?" (Not a word he's fond of, too evocative of spiders.)

[corkscrewed]

There's no hiding the way that Martin is just overwhelmingly relieved to see Jon, and when he scans over him, he barely seems to register the way his fingers are glued together: he's looking for actual, visible injury. When he doesn't see any, he relaxes, if only marginally.

"We found a- a dead man in your office, Jon," Martin says softly, carefully, because to his knowledge Jon is just learning about all of this. "He was, he'd been beaten to death, and where did you go? Is this why you disappeared? You- you got abducted into space?"

[question]

"Leitner," Jon says, visibly startled. He abruptly remembers that grisly scene and sits down. "Is that what you're talking about? Martin, that was — months ago." Now it's his turn to look him over. For injury, or maybe for something else. It's hard to trust his senses, though, after- after Sasha. Hell, he's not even sure this whole space adventure isn't just some weird dream.

[corkscrewed]

"What? No. No, that was like- a week ago, maybe." But then he abruptly halts, lips parted in surprise as he stares at Jon. "Did you say- that was Jurgen Leitner? Why was he at the Institute?"

Why was he dead, and why was he in your office, is what he wants to ask, but - that can wait.

[question]

"He was living — he was living in the tunnels, um. Martin. I've definitely told you this already." Or Elias did, same difference. Jon rubs his face with his glue-free hand. "I don't like this. How can you not know." (A crackle of static, but it's not a question, has no real direction, doesn't compel Martin to explanation.) He tries the most rational explanation: "You must have lost some of your memories during whatever they did to bring us here."

[corkscrewed]

"I don't remember any of that." He doesn't sit, just because he's got too much nervous energy to even consider it. So, instead, he just paces slightly in Jon's cramped quarters. "You think I've lost my memory?" he asks, hesitant, before he brightens abruptly enough to startle anyone paying attention to his moods.

"If I have, and you've explained this before- it means things are fine, then, right? You came back and explained everything? Months ago. I knew you would."

[question]

Ever the optimist. Jon looks at that expression and doesn't want to lie to him, but what happened was not nearly such a neat resolution. "I came back, yes," he says, dodging the rest of it. "I've got a lot more fieldwork these days, so I'm not sure things are what I'd call fine, Martin, but that's par for the course in our job."

Which — they don't have to do anymore. God, it feels strange to think that perhaps he's a free man.

[corkscrewed]

"But you didn't kill that man." Martin buries his face in his hands, making a long noise of absolute relief. "I knew you didn't. That was really Leitner, then? What happened to him? Where did you go? Why are you doing more fieldwork?"

He paused, before tacking on: "And my middle name starts with K."

[question]

"And people say I ask too many questions," Jon grouses. He's fidgeting with his stuck fingers; someone had suggested small movements might loosen the bonds.

"I was speaking with Leitner in my office. Apparently he was telling me more than I was supposed to know, because when I stepped out Elias took it upon himself to beat the man to death with a pipe." The words are biting, because he can't — he still feels haggard about it, and it's easier to couch that in grumpy resentment of the inconvenience than the cold horror of the blood splashed vivid across the sanctuary of his office.

"I... did not handle it as well as I could have," he admits, refusing to let himself off the hook for an excuse as useless as trauma. "And fled. Stayed with a- an old friend, until Elias confessed, and I returned to work."

[corkscrewed]

"What? Oh my God." Martin stares at him, speechlessly horrified, before he says the most naive thing he's said all day: "Who's running the Institute now if Elias is in jail?"

[question]

Jon stares at him for a beat and then laughs, low but not particularly sane, and very, very tired. "Elias Bouchard is still Head of the Institute and, despite his little denouement, a free man."

observation deck

[lightduties]

The person Martin has chosen to greet this time is a short man who also happens to have a pair of snowy white cat ears crowning his head, a loop of brass piercing each ear, and a long fluffy tail. His eyes seem normal enough, but a hint of elongated canines can be spotted when he speaks.

When he's addressed, Rhea'li walks over to the window to peer at the planet in question. This whole place is foreign to him -- there's no sky, no earth, this is a jail -- and seeing a planet like this... it leaves him in awe.

He places a hand -- a human looking hand -- against the edge of the window pane. "Mayhaps. This would near be a dream, were it not for its vividness."

sorry about the delay - needed to wrap up something in another thread!

[corkscrewed]

Martin's eyes cut to the ears and he struggles for a moment, looks like he's trying to figure out if he's going to address them or not, before he finally swallows it awkwardly.

"It is pretty vivid for a dream," he agrees instead. "Maybe - some sort of mass hallucination. Those can be vivid, right?"

no worries!

[lightduties]

He's had his fair share of strange visions, as vivid as if he was there in person, watching. But he would know if this was one of those, he thinks.

He turns back to his conversation partner, tail idly curling behind him. "Has one ever lasted so long?"

If he's honest, he does feel a little unwell, a little like he'd been drugged -- and hasn't he had enough of that for a lifetime! The unnaturalness of his surroundings and the unfamiliarity of travelling in space has certainly left him feeling tilted and uneasy. Nevermind the fact he was supposed to be in Ishgard.

what's good

[thieving]

(The accent? Is very cute.)

Nureyev moves along the windowed wall of the observation deck, arms loosely folded over one another as he makes his way up to the stranger who seems the type to fill a nervous silence with words than with anything else. He's always been one for chatter, so as he settles into the space beside him, he sits a little on his hip and turns his eyes towards the planet and its moons.

"It wouldn't surprise me if the entire crew of this station were down there somehow, though whether they're alive or not is very much up for debate considering the message we were left with."

sorry about the delay - needed to wrap up something in another thread!

[corkscrewed]

"You don't think that's gonna happen to us, do you? Do we count as a crew if none of us actually know how to fly a space ship?" Is it a ship or a station, Martin? He finally glances over at Peter, then, and he can feel his ears going a little pink for a reason that he can't quite identify.

This guy is - striking, definitely.

i'd wait forever for u and u know it

[thieving]

"I would say so seeing as how we're the only ones here, though whether we want to act like it or not is highly up for debate. None of use are beholden to the place, but at the moment it's the one thing keeping us from that lovely vacuum outside called space, so." If Peter is amused by the slight confusion of whether you pilot a station or not, there's no indication of it. The smile he's crafted remains fairly neutral as he gestures to the window a bit.

"It may be worth our time eventually to try and investigate the planet this station is in orbit with. I've tried to find records, but there's practically nothing to comb through."

[solarcharged]

[ The observation deck, flooded with sunlight from the nearby yellow star, is the closest thing to home at this point. It's the only place where Apollo can get the life-giving solar energy that keeps him even remotely functional. He's in the obs deck more often than he's in his own cabin. Apollo considers it home turf.

So when Apollo strolls in, jumpsuit open at the neck, ready to catch some rays he nearly stops short at the sight of a new face. It seems passengers just keep on arriving these days. ]

What do you mean, 'the whole aliens thing'? [ He quirks a smile, before slowly joining the new person at the window. ] According to whoever's down there, you are the alien.

sorry about the delay - needed to wrap up something in another thread!

[corkscrewed]

So that means you think there are actually people down there?

[ he glances sidelong at apollo, lifting one hand, fingers curled, in an idle and awkward greeting. ]

I'm not trying to be close-minded or anything, honestly. This is all just still very... surreal.

[solarcharged]

No idea. Maybe? We haven't heard from them but they may just be really shy.

[ Apollo isn't even sure if he's joking or not. He crosses his arms and gazes steadily down at the mysterious planet below; he's spent a lot of time thinking about what could be down there but the answers are frustratingly lean. ]

But there are people from other planets on board, not just from versions of Earth. [ He casts a sidelong glance at Martin. ] I'm guessing you're from an Earth? You're English, right?