let us bow our heads

[thespaceopera]

[it may be too optimistic to hope that it has something to do with respect, but Atroma has been very quiet. in the wake of the growing stillness on the Iskaulit, neither of the fleet's hosts have broken the peace with their chipper voices.

if the passengers are being watched as closely as they always claim, it is being done in silence.

whether or not the remainder of the living bugs are being kept somewhere for observation, and regardless of the fact that the discussion of what to ultimately do with the ship is still ongoing, it has been generally agreed that something respectful should be done with the dead, and that the remaining spores should be washed away.

so, this will all be done through a combined effort of vacuum and fire, and the time for this purge has been set.

feet on the ground are needed to prepare the foreign ship for purging--securing anything that could be damaged, and safely packing away delicate data-storing instruments and anything belonging to the fleet itself. anyone willing to help could surely find something to do.

and for anyone wishing to bless, reflect, honor, or pray... now is the time to do so. whether aboard the Iskaulit itself before the purge, offering a voice over the network, or simply watching from nearby shuttles and ships, this is the fleet's moment to help send off the crew of the Iskaulit with dignity.]


ooc: this is the final IC mod post for June! the purge itself will be implied for the most part, but anyone with skills in mechanics or fire-controlling may assume they were involved.

this post specifically is for any interactive threads involved in the final days before the Iskaulit is cleaned, and anything funerary, including broadcasts. even if you just want to put up a closed comment describing what private way your character is taking part in this makeshift 'ceremony,' go for it.

an OOC post summarizing and officially wrapping up the rest of June will go up as soon as we're able.

Comments

[heresyandlace]

→ A
[before the purge, in those final hours, Tek is aboard the Iskaulit. as he's done for most of the month, he spends a lot of time just being there, steeping in the atmosphere of it. quietly watching, distantly observing--he's tuned much more into things he can't see than anything he can.

and so, as the last of the things are being fastened down and packed away, he continues to loiter, looking more serious and without pretense than he generally shows.

especially having so recently been put through the wringer of death, this cuts a little closer to the quick than it might have otherwise. he's waiting around, idly looking out for others hoping to pay their respects, but mostly doing seemingly nothing. it's as though he's waiting to be the very last one on the ship before the purge.]

→ B
[and once it comes time for everyone to leave so the purging process can begin, he finally heads back to the Pathstone.

instead of retreating to his office or his bunk, however, he remains on the bridge. he finds a seat next to the largest window with the best view, and from there... he just continues to watch.]

[horrendous]

[A.]

[As an engineer, Hiccup's had a unique opportunity to see the guts of the ship and learn pieces of its history. If anyone else is aboard the Iskaulit to aid in the preparations, they'll see him tying things down, sealing what needs to be sealed, and basically being as helpful as possible.]

[B.]

[He is solemn, as one would expect, and he bows his head as the time nears. Like many he voices a prayer over the broadcast. He is quiet and unassuming. It feels too soon. Feels too familiar. It wasn't long ago that he lost someone very important to him and had to let go in a similar way.]

... May Thor protect you with his hammer which came from out of the sea, and may the lightning hold all evil away from you.

[hymnals]

[Adrasteius knows from fire, and though it'll wrench his heart to do it, he'll help with the purge. But first, he stands on board the ship, amid the activity of other preparations, his hands clasped together in prayer. He hadn't explored or fought in these halls before, but he's here now, armed with all of the discomfiting information that the others have gathered.

A dome of sparkling light rises around him, enveloping him--and anyone else within a thirty yard radius. Adra lifts his head and his arms, and sings a hymn. The words seem indistinct; it's an old, melodious language that sounds less like knowable phrases and more like a series of chiming harmonies. His baritone voice rings out, echoes down the corridors--and then he's done.

He goes to his knees on the metal ground.]

May the Light carry your souls to peace. May you be embraced by those you love, and those who loved you. May you be reborn in the Light, into a kinder time, and a warmer place.

[save_the_souls]

[A.]

[Allen could be found on the Iskaulit in those final hours of the purge. There is sadness in him about what transpired, but he has few qualms in helping it. It's not very different from his job as an Exorcist back in his world. Bringing an end to their misery...ending this pitiful fate- it's what he was supposed to do in his life. Even if he couldn't see the souls themselves]

[He helps brings the bodies to where they can be cremated, lying them out in a respectful manner. It's too bad they don't have enough cloth or sheets to spare to cover them- but they have to do with what they can.]

[Throughout that, and after he's finished with hauling bodies- he takes a moment to say a prayer over them.]

May your souls find salvation. Rest in peace, Iskaulit crew.

[B.]

[Later on, he can be found trying to see what information the engineers have dug up from the ship's databases. Mostly, he's looking for a roster so he can at least know the name of the crew. Or, you might just find him quietly being about- thinking on the whole situation.]

B

[bolder]

[It's the whole thinking time when Toph tracks him down. She leans against one of the door frames in the Iskaulit, arms crossed, silently 'watching' him for a little bit. When she feels a good lull in the reflecting, she pipes up.]

It's a pretty big ship when you put it against ours, isn't it?

aboard the iskaulit

[proudlywehailed]

[commander stands quietly on the iskaulit, hydra-issued mask and goggles in place over his mouth, nose, and eyes. he may be a supersoldier, but he's not stupid; these things could potentially kill him, and he's not running that risk. he does, however, know that fewer people who are at risk are going to be on the ship at this time, and it's a good place to step away from the high energy of the crews.

[he's taking the time to reflect upon what's happened here. death isn't something foreign to him; neither the risk, nor the delivery. and yet, somehow, this part never gets any easier. these people didn't deserve their fate. they begged for help, and the fleet...

[well, they just hadn't made it in time.

[the weight isn't lost on commander. he stands with his hands at his sides, head turned down in solemn silence as he pays his respects to the crew whose names and personalities he would never come to learn.]

[redactions]

[ There are any number of places for him to be besides here, but truthfully James Barnes is drawn to Steve Rogers like a volatile moon hurtling towards a steady planet. Even now there's something immovable about him, rooted. Bucky stops where he is, at a distance, and logically he knows his hand should drop to the grip of the gun he has strapped to his waist, but it doesn't. As much as he never flinches from a fight, there's no call for one. ]

Such a waste, isn't it?

[ino]

[ She's just wearing a face mask, like a doctor or a nurse would use, so it's not quite so effective, but -- hey, look, someone actually listened about the mold.

She ... also doesn't actually know what he's doing. Looking at the floor? But she gestures at his mask and goggles anyways ]

Good idea.

Re: aboard the iskaulit

[peacockherald]

<sub>[ Vanyel had come at the behest of Vision, offering his aid in the purging. His abilities with fire magic were used to help make a sure cleanse of closed off rooms, remove as move of the disease and fungus as they could. It was a drain on his magic, one he did not wish he had to do, but in times like these - the hard decision was the one that had to be made. You must save those that still had hope. Those without should be given the mercy of swift deaths, made as honorable as possible.

He came beside Commander, dressed in his Whites as a show of respect for the task, for those who had lost hope. ]</sub>

It seems even the far reaches of the stars are not immune to such tragedies.

[interspace]

[ Misha isn't stupid, but she isn't one to cope well with difficult things, either. When she came onto the ship, it was more with the idea of committing it to memory than actually doing something. That's all she has: memories that don't mean anything except everything to her and only her.

At the very least, she's got some kind of bandanna tied around her mouth. Equipment for this kind of thing isn't easy to come by, ad it's better safe than sorry. Regardless, that isn't her biggest worry right now. ]

Hey. 'Mander? [ There's a slight pause before she continues, only slightly upbeat. ] Don't suppose you know where I could get anything like that, huh?

[geonomy]

[Clay's taken a small break from doing what little he could to assist whoever he could. He rubs at an arm as he walks, itches at the face mask that's getting more and more uncomfortable, trying to keep down that uneasy feeling that practically makes him sick to his stomach.

He spots Commander nearby. Instead of passing him by, Clay bites his lip, shifts his weight a little, and heads over to him to stand at his side. He's not sure what to say - what can he say? But he does glance up at him, wondering how Commander's taking this. Clay can be a support, or... someone to talk to, maybe, if he wants it.]

[serves]

[Cullen watches and assists where he can, quiet, brow furrowed all the while. He's no stranger to a thing like this but it takes some effort not to think, not to let his mind wander to those darker places. He moves things and tries to help keep it all orderly.

He wonders if praying is appropriate. Does he pray to whatever gods these people held dear? If the Maker rarely helps those in Thedas, does he pray to him now?

Ultimately, he does take a moment to pray. Pray that their rest is peaceful... and that such a thing does not happen to their fleet.]

[coppermarigolds]

[She comes across Cullen praying, and stops where she is. Aveline is not one to interrupt someone else's faith, whatever it may be. Whether the Maker might hear them here, or care, well... she's not one to answer that.]

That's good of you.

[averagestar]

[Well, this is pretty much this girl's first real exposure to death of this scale, so she's trying to keep herself distracted by doing work. Which in this case, mostly means continuing to compile the information that's been gathered together, and searching for any names that can be found in there -- something to give names to all the dead.]

[thezerothlaw]

[Daneel's honestly not sure whether he should be more concerned for the dead bugs or for the people mourning them, but he approaches gently, head tilted to one side. He does have a sense for people in distress.]

May I assist?

[radiantwingedone]

{A}
[ Duke paces the ship. He'll help with any engineering pushing things about, but mostly he's getting a better idea of the scale of the place. He knows he can fill it with fire - he just has to set it up the way he had that other spell.

But he should see it. Which is why he's walking about in a faint blue bubble, making his magic clear the air about him. ]

{B}
[ The fires worked well together, and Duke.. is trying not to look as slightly tired-pleased as he feels about that. A new spell worked without a hitch, he had gotten to see new magics. He's at least aware that ... perhaps everyone, won't agree with his view.

He'll make his way back to the Pathstone's armory, where he'll settle to see what else he could turn that spell into, in theory. ]

[innercactus]

[ Asteffiel had been interested. He was a necromancer, dead things are vaguely interesting! Just a little less when the dead things had been trying to eat him when they were alive things. And a little less when they had been just as smart as they are.

And even less when he found out fire was going to be involved. So very little interest, he turns and more or less runs back to the shuttle to watch from there. ]

... Fire is good. If the dragons could reach, fire won't let them take them...

[ A little like he's convincing himself. ]

[thezerothlaw]

[Ah, here's a familiar mind -- not human, but interesting all the same. Daneel steps forward with a little bow of greeting.]

Hello, Asteffiel. What is it that concerns you?

[peacockherald]

A

_{[ Vanyel had come as part of the purging party at the urging of Vision's video, if it could be called that, dressed in full Whites to recognize the solemnity of the situation. His Fire Starting Gift allowed him to be able to start a fire without having to be near the disease-fungus itself. It brought him no joy, no pleasure to have to use one of his Gifts this way, but the needs of the many and healthy had to be protected over the needs of the dead and dying when no cure was coming. It takes more of his magic than he cared to, probably because he so did not wish to use it, but do it must, wherever he was asked. ]}

B

_{[ Eventually, he will leave the Iskaulit and return to his new home, the Starstruck. He is weary, tired, drawn from the use of magic as well as the emotional drain of the terrible task set before them all. He went to the kitchen first, seeking a warm drink to soothe his soul before seeking somewhere to sit, still in full Whites, listening to the heartbeat of the ship, of life, and felt both guilt and glad in a single breath. ]}

[pain_train]

A
[Wrath has come to help with the purging. If there are any bugs that need to be dispatched, she'll do that as needed, though she's really not supposed to be fighting. This isn't fun; this is grim work. She pushes herself a little harder than she should, but she's always been one to get focused on work.

When all is done, she gets the memorial display she put together set up. The Vision cobbled together some shitty holoprojectors for her, so that's what she's working with. This isn't really her medium, but she can do something that's visually pleasing and expresses the tragedy of the situation. She'd been serious; remembering is important.

The holodisplay is relatively simple, stating with what little they do know about the bugs, the numbers of dead, the description of what happened to them. The written description ends simply with, This must never be forgotten. With the words, there's a simple holographic candle flame, stylized to look like it has been painted, but ever glowing. Behind it there's a subtle starscape, a nearby star with colors reminiscent of a sunset.]

B
[Afterward, Wrath is back on the Windrose, and she's a little quieter than normal. Mostly she's just gone somewhere she can look out at the stars and try to find a way to sit that eases the ache in her back.

She knows she's been to a lot of memorial ceremonies. She can't remember a lot of them, can't remember what she should say or do. It's not like she knew the bugs, but she knows that kind of horror. But she also knows it's very possible for a people to survive past it. She hopes that's what's happened.

She wishes she could draw. That's another thing to ask the engineers for help with. But later. Not today.]

A

[stigmaofsuccess]

[Julian comes when the clean out is done. He's not a fighter, he'll leave it to people far more suited than he is.

He's wearing his uniform pants and jacket, but he's switched to the more comfortable shirts of the fleet provided wardrobe. It means he's very recognizable from the video conversation they had, in his stark black and deep aqua clothing.

If that isn't enough, he steps up next to her, looking at the display.]

I hope they can feel the effort you've put into this memorial. It's a lovely tribute.

A

[coppermarigolds]

It's good of you, to do this.

[It was easier, when she thought the bugs were vicous animals. Not that she's never killed a man or a woman; she has. Sometimes that's a thing that needs to be done. Still, there are parallels between this and darkspawn taint, and she wasn't really prepared for this, not really.]

[unconfines]

A

[Fire seems the best course of action. Andrastian culture venerates the funeral pyre, and it seems to him the most respectful end they could give this ship. In hindsight it feels wrong, all this, having slaughtered so many of these creatures before really understanding what they were and how they lived, even if he knows it probably wouldn't have ended any differently if they'd understood going in.

There's nothing to be done about it now. Dwelling over it serves no purpose. But logic doesn't always help, with these sorts of things. Anders does not sing the Chant, not anywhere anyone could hear him, but it's a steady rhythm for him regardless, still rising and falling the way the priests of his childhood used to sing it.

There's no broadcast. He's never liked ostentatious shows of religion, doesn't see the use in a slew of strangers overhearing anyone's prayers. He recites the Chant in his head, instead, a silent backdrop to the work he's doing.

The Light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world, and into the next. The stack of bodies is getting higher and higher, and he thinks that probably they'll need to have more than one pyre, before he remembers that it is, strictly speaking, a purge. For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.

He reaches to flag down the attention the closest person he can see. He's hauling crates packed by other people to wherever they need to be, not knowing enough about technology or data instruments to reliably pack them himself. The next one is a smidge too large for him to carry on his own.]

Any chance you can lend me a hand with this?

B | (closed to hawke)

[There gets to be a point where he doesn't want to look at it anymore. This is closer to when the time of the actual purge is set, when he vanishes from the work he was doing without word or warning. There's a weight in his stomach that feels disgusted, with himself and with the situation, and what better way to tamp that down than to avoid it at the source?

He seeks Hawke out, wherever he is, this also without word or warning; it's not the sort of thing he knows how to announce, that he's more affected by this than he expected. He's not sad, precisely. Tired would be a better word. Resigned.]

Seems wrong not to at least light a candle or two. [He says it casually enough, with a smile, like a greeting. But... it's true, it does seem wrong to him. Holograms aren't quite the same.] I'm not even sure if we can get those, up here.

[forcemageure]

[ Hawke is ...well, less affected would be the kind, or just accurate way to put it. He can recognize that yes, the insectoids were people, in the sense of comparative cognitive functions and capacity for emotion and etc, but--unfortunately if there's one thing that happens a lot in Kirkwall, it's groups of people whose minds have been warped and worn down to one single, lethal purpose, so he's more used to putting that aside and carving a path through to survival than anyone ought to be.

Ergo. Funerary preparations weren't a capacity in which he had an interest in participating, so he's been occupied with some of the more utilitarian tasks to which tall, broad dudes tend to be suited: namely, carrying large objects. When Anders approaches he's just finished loading a standing pallet with a bunch of somethings - let's say they're cooling units for some mechanical thing - which do, also, something. Although this is less narrative waffling than that Hawke has no idea. He was told to lift the heavy things, so it goes.

Unsurprisingly, Anders is more important, so Hawke holds up one of those 'ten seconds and I will drop everything for you' forefingers to secure the somethings with one of those stretchy industrial straps, then yes, (figuratively) drops everything, namely to move smoothly into Anders' space, head tilted in some mixture of assessment and maybe concern. Concern is at least the closest applicable sentiment, anyway. ]

I could probably find some. [ He pushes back the little pieces of hair that are always escaping Anders' tie, slightly too short to stay where they're put. Which is also like a greeting, since it certainly has nothing to do with neatening Anders' appearance, just ingrained, affectionate little ritual. ] You all right?

[ Not inquired with hesitance, exactly, but--he's actually pretty sure even while all three tiny syllables are emerging, he is prepared not to accept a rote 'fine' in response. ]

OTA

[thezerothlaw]

[Daneel moves among people, aiming to be quiet and unobtrusive. He doesn't really understand the full ramifications of all this, and he knows it. Aliens are such a new concept, after all. Still, his aim is to help, and he listens to the emotions and minds around him. There is a lot of pain here, a lot of grief and a lot of confusion. Sometimes he can step in. Sometimes... he can't.

Still, he's trying, and whether on the shuttle or within the ship itself, he aims to help. Someone may suddenly find him at their elbow, politely attentive.]

[stayinthecar]

[ Grief and confusion, you say? Zee's got both, though he probably sounds different from the others -- Cole seems to think so. He's on the ship as an engineer, to preserve its functioning during and after the crew are purged, but his mind isn't just on the task. It's on the loss of life and sentience; on how those things were taken away by another organism and to an extent by the people he calls friends. It's complicated... and frightening in many ways, and Zee isn't sure how to process what he's feeling as he works on the Iskaulit.

He can hear others praying, and he puts down his tools to listen. ]