The Bunker of Nariba Relia | OPEN PLOT MINGLE POST

[theroadwarrior]

Who: Everyone!!
Broadcast: N/A
Action: The bunker in the surrounding desert.
When: Sometime recently, see this post for full information. Below is the excerpt of information listed there. Feel free to make a top comment and thread out the sad truth and whatnot.

[Records buried in the library, the research facility, and cues from the power plant will eventually reveal the bunker in the surrounding desert. The passageway leads several yards underground, and it doesn’t appear to have been used in a long time. Those brave enough to venture inside will find that it is not much more than a tomb. Eerily enough, the emergency lights are still on, casting a soft red glow over sheets and the once-bodies beneath them.

It has been long enough that paper journals, books, and personal belongings (like bags and such) have deteriorated to the point of being extremely fragile. Handled with care, however, they are eager to tell a story.

“The engineers should have been more careful. I’m not sure I’ll be able to recoup my losses from this… At least I have enough money to buy a ride off this planet!”

“No one could have known this would happen. Hopefully it stabilizes so we can go home soon. In the meantime, I’ve been teaching my daughter how to count. She doesn’t understand what’s going on, and I don’t know what to tell her.”

“It’s not getting better. So many people have died that we’re running out of room in the morgue. We had to move all of the food to another room so that the smell doesn’t leach out, but we all know what’s back there.”

“The replicator was supposed to repair us, too.”

“I don’t know if we can go back yet, but it doesn’t matter. Even if the city was back to the way it was, there’s no cure for us. The dead are dead, and we lay down next to them as we wait for our turn.”

There is nothing that can be done for these people except to give them the eternal rest they deserve. Ultimately, the fate of Nariba Relia is a sad one and not altogether preventable.]

Comments

[dothelokimotion]

[ Asgard had no records. Most of the people they had . . . saved were peasantry. Common folk. They had their stories, their own rituals. None of which Loki was very familiar with. He never spent much time with them and in a way, he does regret that. A part of him wonders if he's the only one left who might know the fullest extent of their history. The courts had vanished. The warriors gone. The scholars? What scholars?

Heimdall might know. Valkyrie has been gone too long. Loki, who is not even Asgardian, might be housing the last parts of Asgard's knowledge. Its magic, its science. The deeds passed on.

He hates it. Loki hates it so much he might burst. But instead he sits in a corner, thumbing through the journals silently. ]

Sentiment.

[watermarks]

[ Katara is not going to stand down in the bunker long. She has a scarf wrapped around her nose and mouth, and she hasn't checked many of the sheeted figures, but she has checked two, an adult-sized lump... and a child's skeleton. She's seen things like this before, but the hopelessness of this is somehow worse.

She stumbles over to the wall, and places her hands on it. Her head is down and she focuses on just breathing. She notices a shape in corner of her eye, sitting with the records, but she doesn't pay much attention, more focused on keeping the contents of her stomach in her stomach. ]

[dothelokimotion]

[ He glances at her. ]

You shouldn't be here if you are going to be ill.

[collegedropout]

An important thing to have.

[It's spoken to the side, where Sam is cataloging in a clearly overused journal of his own — nearing the end of its pages. Since the moment they'd stepped onto the planet, Sam's been on the case — as he tends to be, because it's kind of crucial to know what the hell happened. This, though, this is depressing. Not unusual, for him. But depressing.

He glances up, and despite his work ethic, there's a clear empathetic furrow to his brow.]

For them and for us.

[dothelokimotion]

For you, perhaps. I do not think it did anyone any favors.

[ Loki certainly would like to be imbued with less sentiment. Asgard's loss rings a little hollow and he knows why. As much as he enjoyed his stint as king, it stopped being a home long ago. Though now, it feels like a hole in his chest. Loki used to have a place to go back to. Thor has Midgard. What does Loki have? ]

[throwsdown]

Are you alright?

[Where'd that come from? Oh, wait, there, to your left. Lower.

The puny nine-year-old is staring with an expectant and grim expression, as if determined to make sure there's a good answer (or at least not miserable) response to the question. It's his job to make sure nobody's aching too terribly on his watch, anyway.]

[dothelokimotion]

[ Loki blinks, because the last thing he expected was to meet a tiny boy . . . And as such, his response takes a little longer. ]

Of course.

What are you doing in such a place?

[privateeyed]

[bunkers weren't anything new to Ben. He'd been in plenty of them, as a child and as a soldier, and ranging from crumbling relics to ones outfitted with the current technology of his time. He'd even stepped into one or two that resembled the one here on Nariba Relia, only the bodies weren't as old.

But even with that experience, the bunker unsettles him, deep down in his bones. Before he steps foot inside of it he feels twitchy, his usual sarcastic comments replaced with solemn silence. It takes ten minutes of pacing for him to psych himself up to even head down the stairs, and another five of just standing there scowling at nothing to keep going once he reaches the bottom.

He does manage to stay down there long enough to read a few of the journals and scraps of paper, and while he can't sit still for very long, being able to focus on that rather than everything else in his head helps. He's careful not to touch anything, in order to keep what's left preserved for other people to check out. Every so often, he'll offer his commentary on the matter:]

Fuckin' hell.

[really, what else is there to say?]

[watermarks]

[ When she'd heard that the fate of the inhabitants had been discovered, Katara felt bound to see it through. She'd contacted Ben and asked if he wanted to go too, since they'd spent time trying to figure it out, it made sense to her to see it through with him.

She hesitated a long moment before going down into the bunker. The smell alone... She paused to wrap the scarf she'd picked up for a headcovering in the desert around her mouth a few times before following Ben into the eerily lit space. (Although, granted, once inside the process of decomposition has long-since stopped, and the smell is mostly the result of it being shut up for so long, they should be fine after a few minutes.)

The first thing she sees that really registers are the sheets. They have vague lumps beneath them, but they're not immediately recognizable. The desert is hot, after all. She gives Ben a glance and then heads toward the sheets.]

[privateeyed]

[as hyper-aware as he is of everything, Katara heading off towards the sheets still takes a moment to register. He half-expects her to answer his own commentary, but when she doesn't his head jerks up to follow where she went and—oh shit.

He's at her side before she can get too close, gently grabbing her arm to stop her. For all that he's having a minor freak-out, his voice is calm and his hand is steady (even though it is the fake arm and not the real one)]

Wouldn't get too close if I were you. It won't be pretty.

[dreamvour]

[tragedy and death were commonplace to someone like Baku. She'd seen the world at its worse - her own and the human world - and while she knew how to grieve and mourn, she was long past the point where it drew more than a brief frown.

Still, she's respectful of the dead and what remains of them. Anything she touches is done carefully, and when she wanders over to the bodies, she makes sure to cover them back up properly. It's a bit out of her element - the dead don't dream, nor do they leave dreams behind, but - she wants to understand what happened here]

[tempredmental]

[Keith had come across a dead body once before, but this was a whole new level. So many of them... and, really... it was like they were all almost dust. How long had it been? It had to have been a really long time. They didn't even really look like bodies anymore... some of them were just piles of bones.]

What happened...?

[His question was more just a general wondering, and not directed at any particular person... but he happened to be close to Baku when he said it.]

[dreamvour]

[she doesn't glance up from the journal she was looking through, fingers careful as they turn the page]

They were waiting down here until they could go home. [her tone is just a touch softer than its usual deadpan] But by the time they could it was too late.

[ginger_firebird]

[He's grateful for once to have the mask for reasons unrelated to reputation or his powers. It hides his utter disgust and the grimace of pity taking over his face. He thinks of names like Chernobyl and the utter helplessness one faces when all that was meant to keep life going simply doesn't.

You'd think traveling across multiple words, you wouldn't find such basic errors, and yet here he stands before two small figures covered in shrouds.]

This whole town is a reliquary for your dream. [He sighs deeply, the action shifting a great deal of his body. Then he kneels down and very gently sets the shrouds a little neater.] May your rest bring you more peace than life did.

[poisontippedcure]

[After being trained as a healer, and seeing what she's seen, Rose shouldn't let such things affect her. And yet, this is overwhelming in a way that she hadn't expected.]

[She finds someone else, looking deep in thought as he says a prayer for the fallen. Who wouldn't be, in a situation like this?]

It's ironic, don't you think? That their dreams live after they die?

[ginger_firebird]

[Mantis stays on the ground where he kneels, but he does turn his head slightly towards her voice.]

I remember what it felt like to be that small. Everyone else's mistakes became your problem tenfold. [He shakes his head.] The dream lives, but barely. It whispers. When we're gone, there will be no way of knowing who will come along to listen to it.

[rebuildyourruins]

[All roads lead somewhere in the end. Yet this isn't where Thor expected this road to finish, not really. It had been obvious something happened to the people here, but Thor tends towards optimism in most things. Even if disaster struck, he had assumed most - some - had left this world. Stepping into the bunker, that assumption was easily dashed.

This is a grave. That's all he can think as he steps quietly through the dimly lit spaces. Not even that; graves are prepared by those still living, for the care of those passed on. This is a forgotten place full of forgotten people. At least Asgard still has some left to mourn, he muses, but even that feels hollow. Asgard's lost don't even have bodies or soil left behind.

Thor doesn't touch the sheets littering the halls in sad, orderly rows. He passes at the edges of them if he can, only staying long enough to check what rooms are in the place. It doesn't take long. He finds himself back in the main area doing nothing but stare at the sheets. After so many weeks of running from place to place, keeping his mind on the present, he's run into a dead end.

Later on, Thor can be found sitting on a rock outside the bunker entrance, lost in thought as he watches the sun set over the desert.]

[dothelokimotion]

[ Loki finds him easily, standing behind him. ]

Brooding, brother? How unlike you.

[rebuildyourruins]

[Thor doesn't bother turning around. He knew Loki was there before he spoke up.]

There's little else to be done about it.

[bryces_pup]

[A shelter turned into a tomb. Whatever happened here - Riona doesn't fully understand, but she gets the gist of it - left these people trapped and waiting to die. An awful fate, one that makes her stomach turn unpleasantly. She looked over the records, but it was too much after awhile.

Saddled with her own grief from recent losses, and now this, Riona feels compelled to act. Which is why she eventually leaves the bunker, intent on doing something for these people. In most places in Thedas, humans burn their dead. and these people deserve a funeral of some sort. This place has endless supplies; she's certain she can get enough to make funeral pyres for these people. Likely mass ones - there's too many dead to build one for each individual, but it's better than nothing.

On the way out, though, she spots Thor, and slows. Her task can wait a moment. She steps over to him, looking at the sunset with him.]

Not... what I was hoping to find in there. Those poor people.

[rebuildyourruins]

[Thor shifts, glancing up at Riona as she comes to stand next to him. It's a welcome diversion from his thoughts, even if they're going to speak of the same thing. What's buried in the ground behind them. He nods in silence, looking back to the sunset.]

I didn't think this was what happened. Maybe that was foolish of me.

[watermarks]

[Katara has only returned to the bunkers for one reason, and for one reason only, and it is not so that she can go back inside.

She pauses, however, at the newly carved memorial. She wonders who put this together. She still... kind of wanted to do her own, but the need felt less great. She is standing there, a scarf over her head to protect from the desert heat, when she notices Thor sitting on a rock outside the bunker. She's still pretty far off, so she just raises her hand in greeting.]

[rebuildyourruins]

[He'd been lost in thought, staring off into nothing, so Katara's wave makes him sit up in alertness. For a moment he'd forgotten that other people were around here as well. Getting up from the rock he waves in return, and starts heading her way.

When he reaches her he manages a smile. Despite the heat, he's still in his sleeveless armor without any extra protection. Maybe he's used to it.]

Katara, it's good to see you off the Marsiva.

Max Rockatansky | OTA

[theroadwarrior]

[Max is very limited in his time in the bunker. He leafs through exactly one brittle journal before ignoring the bodies and aura of pain and tragedy — and, as easy as a hand slipping into a perfectly-sized glove, he crouches low and begins to sift through belongings. Any that seem useful, he begins to put into his bag.

Though he does take the time to look over a small, nearly collapsed stuffed animal and placing it carefully next to a smaller looking skeletal form under the sheet It's probably theirs; might as well return that, for peace of mind.

but any metals, anything that hasn't eroded with time — he's taking.

By the time he's up and moving from the structure, he's folding and unfolding a small pocket knife he'd found, carved in a language he can't read; probably a name. He'll maybe find a way to read it sometime.]

[tempredmental]

[Keith saw what Max had done with the stuffed animal. He watched him for a moment, and then was standing at the door as Max headed out.]

What did you do that for?