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Who: Oren and you!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Marsiva
When: Evening...?!

[With his arms stretched wide, Oren is now taking in the view of the Marsiva's large windows.]

Well, I should count myself blessed to witness this with my own eyes! [He laughs, and it sounds joyous, if short. Turning in place, his hands fall back to his sides, and he's flashing a grin around the area. Night. Night, this was definitely night... And there were others here, he'd just not run into them. So what does he do?]

Have I missed the celebrations? The dancing? [Finally, he stops stepping backwards and turns to face the window yet again. Expansive and dark, but as captivating as it was-- what did this mean for Nocta?]

Night falls, and all it's met with is quiet? Tell me, have you all been stunned to silence, or am I left here alone with this view?

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Are your nights missing?

[ Its the only reason he can think of for why nighttime would mean dancing.

Also hello, night time means his glow is active (much like the icon). ]

[The voice cuts cold. It steals the breath from his lips, freezes the blood in his veins, solidifies his feet to the floor. The world fish-eyes around him, everything curved and much too far away. With unusual clarity, he looks down and notices his hands are trembling, fingers quivering like an engine. Attempting to speak only reveals that his throat is dry, cracked as the desert they came from.

They. Goddess. There wasn't supposed to be a they. There was supposed to be him and him alone, sheltered from the eyes of those who knew. Of those who had known.

He could still see his smile as he fell, manic and joyous and broken all at once. Idly, he wondered if the screen would show the same thing and if, when he spoke, he would hear Ahl's voice crack once more. Hear the sickening crack and thump, distant but distinct, of his body breaking on stone.

Bile rose and he folded over to halt it, hand clamped over his mouth as tears stung unbidden at the corner of his eyes. This couldn't be real. A joke, a dream, a fault of the augment—something had to have gone wrong. There was no way—

His hands are curling over his stomach. The scars burn like a beacon into his flesh and he remembers everything. The voice in his ear, the grip on his arm, the closeness of his warmth—he remembers it all but the pain. It's something he regrets now. Wants to memory of death to resurrected instead of the memory of him and the laughter in his eyes. The sound of their footsteps, joined in motion, tapping upon mosaic ground.

He needs to move. The hall of the ship around him is spinning and everyone, far though they are, feels too close. Escape is a necessity and he stumbles to find it, slamming into the Starstruck's shuttle with a drunkard's walk. The others will ask questions later. ELN will ask why he took the shuttle away, Aaron will say something snide, Felix will—oh, demon's take the others. Demons take everyone.

Sliding into the pilot's seat, he pulls from the ship and blasts forward, driving somewhere, anywhere, as far as he could go. As far as it would let him. As far as his screams would carry him.

He stops when his voice is hoarse and when his fists are raw and bleeding, sore from banging against metal panels and knobs. The ship slows with his heart. His breath comes back to him but even still, it's a long while before he pulls up the communicator. Longer still before he watches the broadcast and an eternity before brings the microphone to his lips.]

AUDIO

Oren.

Are mine?

[He laughs, turning to view the nearest video feed before he stops his reply short. His smile breaks and he has to squint, stepping closer in his shock. Were his eyes playing tricks on him?

No, not again, not this.]

...Aren't yours? [He'll take this slowly.]

[There he is. From one word alone he could recognize that voice. The distasteful way his name sounds with it. His fingers tap along the edges of the screen he's viewing now. Empty. Only voice, and a strained one, at that.]

Now, there's the man I was looking for! Our Great Messiah himself! [Joy overflows from his words, and his video still broadcasts. His lips twitch a bit as he leans closer, resting against the stand the screen is held on as he smiles.]

Tell me, Mattias. This is cause for celebration, isn't it? [Worry cracks into his voice, accusing-- but nothing over the top. Like he's trying to convince himself more than the man on the other side of this strange device. This was nowhere close to home, was it? What had happened?] You sound troubled.

[His smile drops ever so slightly into something a little more serious, though he has a relaxed way of bringing it across. It's true concern on his face.] It leaves a man worried.

[ Oh no, he has to think on this. ]

I get confused a little. [ Here he catches one of those leaves on his head, near one of those purple points of light. ]

I think it is the very inside metal ships.

[He wants to laugh. He wants to sob. He wants to throw the fucking communicator out the fucking ship. A man worried? A lie dipped so sweet he could almost taste it. Nearly wanted to. How wonderful would it be to go back? To the library, to the walks, the twirls and twists. It's with a lurch in his stomach that he remembers none of them were real and it's with a shaking voice that he answers.] For celebration?

[His voice feels disembodied. Robotic. The question not his own, too vapid and superficial to be what he really wants to ask. How? How is he here? How is he standing? Breathing? Speaking and waving and twisting words in that perfectly charming way of his?

Mattias wets his lips.] Yes, I suppose it is.

[A flood of questions and yet when he tried to think of what to say next, nothing comes. Silence looms threatening to swallow him until, finally—] ... I told you. It's Mattias. Not Messiah.

[His voice nearly cracks as he speaks.]

[Okay what the fuck is going on he is definitely talking to... a creature of some sort.]

Confused... I must say I'm the same at this very moment.

[It's not a good sign when even his playful words get no rise from Mattias. Broken tones and nervous silence. What did he do?

He smiles, small as it is, and focuses on the screen even if there's only a voice to go by.]

Now's no time to be humble, now is it? [Not when the night is fucking everywhere and they're nowhere near what he'd call home, civilization, the world. He's getting more anxious over that, and it's striking away at his patience quickly.]

Won't you come see me? It's been no more than a day since I've seen you last, and yet it seems you've left me here stranded. [He laughs, like he's trying to make the situation lighter.] What's happened, Messiah?

.... Hm?

[ Thinking, thinking, thinking, what could be confusing him.

... Oh. ]

I am a Sylvari. We are made of plants.

[ ... That helps with the confusion, right? ]

[What happened? The question feels more cumbersome than the entire world. How is he supposed to answer? Tell the truth? He has to bite back a laugh at the thought.

Still, Oren keeps talking, his words feather-light and all too enticing. Again, his throat feels thick, clogged by his own heart's erratic tempo. Longing threatens to take him and only the grip over his wounds reminds him. Biting his lip, he breathes in deep. Closes his eyes. Leans back in the pilot's seat.

What happened? A hard answer to word but an easy answer to show. He flicks the video on. It feels too easy to do.]

She was taken.

[The words hit hard but he does his best not to flinch, holding the camera up to his face. Oren will know what it means.]

[ Steph tilts her head, frowning at just how enthused this guy is about being in space. It's a little weird. ]

Um? They're just stars. I mean, they're pretty, but they're gonna get old fast.

[He laughs again, but this time it's a little less sturdy. Backing up from the screen, he places a hand to his forehead, running fingers through his hair a bit.]

You see, that doesn't help one bit.

It doesn't? I thought you were confused about what I am...

[ .. Now he's confused too. What else is this person on the video confused about? ]

[All at once, the joy leaves his face. In its wake is an anxious concern that roots itself into his mouth, nowhere near a sneer but twitching at the corner like it threatens to be at any moment. Genuine confusion comes next, and it softens his face that would have otherwise been a little too harsh.

Blue eyes.]

She-- [This was no good. His whole reason, his whole chance. Panic grips his chest and transforms to anger. It's an overwhelming feeling that threatens to take control, and he has to force it down, take a step away from the video screen and laugh, short and tired.]

Mattias. [This time it's not Messiah that should work up a reaction, but Mattias. No longer the vessel. And how? He turns again, stepping right back to the screen as both palms come down on each side, allowing him to lean down further. To really stare at him.

He's calm here. He's got to be calm here.] How? Why? What is this, Mattias? [With a gesture around the room; he means the view of space. His idea of night.]

Where is she?

Stars?

[A foreign word to his tongue, and it's clear in the way his face curves into amusement as he says it.]

Now what do you mean by that?

Oh boy.

Those lights out there in the darkness? Those are stars. Like the sun, but... much farther away.

[He can't bear it, switching back to audio. A coward's way out, maybe. But his body is untrustworthy and the stakes are too high for betrayal.]

I told you not to call me Messiah. [It's meant as a joke but all it does is drive the knife deeper. Funny. A title he had always despised now felt condemning when absent.] What you're looking at is space. Someone must have explained it to you. It's... larger than her. Greater. But it's not her.

[There's a great silence before he speaks again.] I don't know where she is.

[The fact solidifies when he speaks it and hits him like a bull. They had taken something from him. Something—someone—he had devoted his life to, and he hadn't cared. Did his best to ignore it. Move on. Become someone else. Pretend to be someone else. All for what? The chance to escape? To know the joys of Renacht once more?

It all seemed so vain now.

Bending over, he holds his face in his hands, voice growing smaller with each admittance.] Forgive me.

Edited 2015-03-25 07:54 (UTC)

Most people would be a little more upset to wake up in such a strange place...

[says a mysterious (but charming!) disembodied voice from a nearby network panel. audio message for Reasons, of course.]

The night is a cause for celebration to you?

Oh, no... [He turns back, stealing a glance, and it's not gone. So what is he to do but group it with this whole situation? Here he is in some metal tin in the middle of the night, with vague information that seems to have come from nowhere.]

Much more than that confuses me here, my friend. [Disclaimer: u are not his friend.]

[Space. Right. That girl had mentioned it, and stars, and suns, multiple. That this dark space could actually be the opposite of what he had assumed... Or just something else entirely?

Mattias' words are pathetic. Begging for forgiveness when this is what he's done.]

You've lost her? [How? How? His fingers curl around the edge of the platform. Taken, lost, it was all the same. He doesn't reply to him begging for forgiveness.] Then surely you must be searching.

Like the sun.

[He repeats that, slowly, and his stomach sinks a bit at the idea. Were they like Orphoros? Were they Orphoros?]

You wouldn't be teasing me, would you? [He laughs, short, and looks away. He still doesn't get it.] How would there be more than one?

Is it not for you?

[His arms stretch out wide again, and joy is clear on his features even when he steps away and around the device. Another laugh slips out.]

I've no idea where I am, but how can I focus on that when I am before such beauty?

It's—[Shit.]—It's more complicated than that.

[A lie? He couldn't tell. There were unsurmountable obstacles in his way, sure. The Atroma, the augments, the absolute lack of knowledge as to where they were. Yet, had he tried? To break the hold, to uncover the truth? There was the incident with the augment but that had been done out of selfish curiosity not duty.

Guilt settles sour in his stomach but it doesn't dissuade him.] The areas we're exposed to—they're too small. And all the signs of her presence are masked. [He gestures outside despite Oren's inability to see.] You can't find someone based off a chill if the whole landscape freezes. It's—it's a different field out here. I'll need time to study it before I can search again.

[Goddess, help him. He's no idea what he's saying anymore.]

Edited 2015-03-25 22:03 (UTC)

[Growing quiet as Mattias babbles excuses, Oren pushes away from the screen. Anxiousness bubbles up in the form of anger, and he nearly snaps-- but no, he has control of this. He can gain control of this.]

So it's been too much for you to try, my dear Messiah. [That last word bites deep, but still the words come out tinged with cheer. Like a sweet sort of teasing, or a fondness.]

Time is something we don't have much of. [Is that right? It's right for him, at least--] Then, aren't you glad I've arrived just in this time of need?

[Again. The title is being used as a weapon, cutting deeper than any axe.] Please, Oren. Don't call me that.

And, I have been trying. I—[Goddess, what was he doing? Justifying himself to a man as if he were a representative to a race instead of a traitor. His mouth twists, curling into a thin line.]—I don't see why you would care.

[It sounds like someone else's voice, sharp and tight with a secret fury. Not a tone he had ever taken with Oren, a far cry from his usual meek demeanor. It spawns confidence that he forges sharper.] Getting ready for another—

[He catches himself, augment kicking in to remind him that this is public. With a scoff, he pulls back, falling silent.]

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forward-dated to after everyone else; action/audio

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jesus christ

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THERE'S A LOT OF EMOTIONS INVOLVED HERE

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ah...... gross... removes them

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you can't it's a disease also it's video now bitch

[video]

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damn

[permavideo]

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voice

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video for him

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