driftfleet | Waystation Mingle Log!

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Waystation Mingle Log!

Who: GAME-WIDE MINGLE aka everyone
Broadcast: If you want
Action: The Stations!
When: From 04/05 through the month of April.

[Well, that all sure happened. But at least you have the waystations! Whether you want to stock up on supplies, work, trade, or visit the very fancy Virtual Reality Dome, it's bound to be a nice break from the attacks of the 5th.

Make your own prompts, set up your own Virtual Realities, etc! For reference, the OOC post with info is over here!]

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~~tron~~ Virtual Reality

[The first image he pulls up is a library, broad and towering, with dark walnut walls stretching three floors. Beyond the tightly packed walls of books, stories lie everywhere, embedded in carvings that cover every surface. They spiral around columns, march across friezes, dance around windows and doors, a mix of forgotten and remembered heroes guarding the tomes within. Thick tables rest in a spiral around an octagonal section of glass, inlaid with silver waves and peering down into a crashing river below. It mirrors the glass dome above, certain panels cut into shapes that form a variety of local birds, the most prominent being the peacock at the apex, its tail wrapped underfoot in a clumsy tango. The windows are positioned with the sun, ensuring the room is always lit in a heavenly light at all hours of the day.

Then, when he’s had enough, the image shifts. Turns to a massive stone bridge, stuffed full with buildings. He brings the image to a plaza, covered in mosaics depicting waves and water, cypress forests and silver snakes. Music plays against the sound of crashing waterfalls, visible in the distance as they pour out of the flattened mountainside. Indeed, the city looks as if carved from the mountain itself. Funny how that happens.

He continues to flit through locations. A flat stretch of desert, covered in glass sand roses. A curved canyon that cuts from the earth like a rib cage. A cave filled with luminescent mushrooms and labyrinthine bridges, twisting and curling on each other. So on and so on, exploring the full expanse of his world, seemingly oblivious to anything else.]

Waystation/Starstruck

[Yeah, so the Starstruck is trashed. It’s stopped smoking but it still looks like scattered puzzle than a working ship. And even if he can’t really do anything about it, it’s kind of a hard thing to just walk away from. So he picks up the small tasks. The simple things. A broken panel here, a hanging conduit there.

The entire comm station. No idea what he’s doing with that, but if it’s station, he might as well fix it. A loyalty thing. Or something. It gives him something to do, at least. Keeps his hands busy and stops him from thinking about how the majority of his carefully written notes burned in the crash.

Still, that doesn’t mean he isn’t constantly making a mess of things. There’s a lot of sparks coming from his station that he seems otherwise oblivious to, his fingers burned from the close proximity. Like the burnt arm he still hasn’t fixed, he doesn’t seem to mind. What does annoy him is how the damn wires aren’t connecting right.]

It’s green to blue, isn’t it? I could have sworn…

Edited 2015-04-08 04:03 (UTC)

VIRTUAL REALITY DOME

[ should anyone wander into the smaller, private room lioriley has taken residence in, they will find themselves in a city cloaked by night. the buildings are tall, all stone and wood and they seem to be glowing, faintly, as mostly everything in the city does. the single road in which this particular scenario takes place is lined with only a few torches along the side of the snowy path, flickering faintly as they lead the way to a bigger, open plaza.

lioriley has decided to leave out the unnecessary npcs, and it's all but silent until one draws close enough to the aforementioned plaza. the first thing anyone will see there are the four massive statues in the middle of it: the most striking being the one in the direct center - the only one that seems to have been painted. it's of lioriley - her features etched into stone as she stands, proudly with her comrades surrounding her.

but the others are not so bright. they have gone unpainted, purposefully, it seems. the one to her right is a male dark elf clad in armor; tall and regal looking, kneeling as if vowing allegiance to lioriley's statue. and to her left, in nearly the same exact pose, is a woman - human, by the looks of it, with long curly hair and a look of determination in her stone eyes.

and finally, behind the statue of lioriley, is a dragon - massive, wings spread wide to cast a shadow over the other three; his mouth open as if spewing fire from his throat. it's quite a sight to behold, really. ]

It is too bad I could not see you all properly. [ it seems the owner of this reality is actually here, speaking to the statues around her own (which she is all but ignoring at the moment) as if they are actually going to respond. ] Ah - but that would be too hopeful, would it not? I suppose I should be grateful I can even see you like this. [ she reaches out toward one of them - the woman, and taps her finger against one of her stone curls. it doesn't feel like it should. how disappointing. ]

WAYSTATION / EVERYTHING ELSE

[ and if you don't want to walk in on her weird interactions with statues, she will be around and about the waystation, offering assistance to anyone that might need it.

and since beverly gave her the go ahead to help out with healing on the Blue Fish, I assume she'll be there quite a bit as well! make up your own scenarios too dawg I'm flexible. ]

Edited 2015-04-08 04:36 (UTC)

[As Mattias is lost in thought, Oren lets himself get lost in the music. Quietly, he steps after Mattias' back in a one-two rhythm, steady at first until he widens his steps, gaining on him and his leisurely pace. It's a dance of his own, and of course when he reaches the finale, the light touch of Mattias' shoulder as he takes a few steps to the side and turns with him, pulling him into a small turn as his free hand reaches to take one of Mattias'.]

Dance with me.

[A callback. One spoken smoothly with a grin. The hand at his shoulder brushes away and presses lightly over his own heart, instead, as he continues.]

Or will you wound me with rejection?

[If they were going to reminisce, why not go all out?]

i. text + vrd } closed to anders
[ This glorious day in space, Anders will be treated to the following message, carefully crafted to convey the utmost respect and courtesy, certainly with no intention of immediately nailing the cheapest joke it can find. ]

Swirling rumors say you've assumed a new position! If I'm wrong you never heard this from me, but I'm fairly certain at least three sorts of interstellar protocol dictate I buy you a drink. Unfortunately the same protocol strictly stipulates this be a drink that wouldn't actually get you drunk, in a fairly subpar tavern stuck in the sleepiest village in all of Thedas, where no real money will change hands.

You're intrigued, I can tell.

ii. text + vrd } closed to varric

[ At some time that is definitely after that one we just talked about up there, the one that was never, ever not on this mingle, Hawke has decided he may as well just go and ruin Varric's day already. Try making him less cavalier about this, please! You may need a sharp stick. ]

About that ghastly big bubble squatting in the middle of everything.

[ That's ...it, that's the entire message. Obscure for most people, maybe, but of the fragments of their little band that's gathered here, Hawke can't imagine Fenris wanting to see Kirkwall again, and Anders has less than no reason to see it in the first place. It's just him and Varric, their coinciding idea of home (whether you're born there or you adopt it). The city itself would far outstrip the dome's limitations, but the interior of the Hanged Man seems manageable enough, with details accrued between the two of them. Even if the terrible ale would be even more terrible than usual. Even if it might be an awful idea, that single line says he believes it's an idea Varric is having too. ]

iii. vr } beverly + hawke + sokka

[ The problem with 50% of the crew possessing very little familiarity with devices that shoot holes in other ones, is that all the suggestive posture demonstrations in the world* don't teach a person what happens when they actually fire once of said devices. Having absolutely no idea what a laser pistol shooting range should actually look like, Hawke had consulted ~~the bones~~ the available resources and created, with the helpful assistance of various ...pokey button things, a room that does indeed look like indoor target practice might look in Blade Runner. Only even shadier.

He's recreated Timmy the Undead Horror just for the sake of familiarity and everything, knife gouges and all. ]
* Sokka did not have any of these

iv. errywhere else } hawke + YOU

[ Does what it says on the tin. Save Hawke from deeply boring shopping! Gather your party and go forth, on a hired muscle adventure! Introduce him to the grand delights of your virtual whatevers!

Well. Maybe not your whatevers. The VRD is a family friendly environment, and frankly narrative feels nothing but shame in even looking at you. ]

[He trespasses on accident and stays with purpose, enchanted by the endless night once described to him. It's easy to pin the memory, if not by description then by Lior herself, standing but a few feet away. He lags behind her, keeping a respectful silence between them. Letting her pay tribute. He's seen enough death to know the signs of mourning.

It's only when he thinks she's finished that he steps forward, clearing his throat in warning.]

Lioriley, I don't mean to intrude but I was enamored by the sights. Is this your city?

[He won't ask about the statues. Not yet, at least, though the temptation's strong.]

[let's be honest, Zhas has better things to do than show up to some "virtual reality" simulator. they had this gimmick back home. his ship needs repairs, they need money--his time here is just in the interest of scoping the place out and making sure it's not secretly a den of evil or housing some Atroma secret they should know about.

but he's kind of... impressed when he wanders into a library, and it looks... real. really real. he stands very still at the edge of it, taking in sound and light and the odd way it smells. already imagining having to fight in a space like this, where his blind spots would be, where he could get the best vantage point...]

[ Steffa has procured one of the "private" rooms for her own use, however uninteresting that use may be.

The room she's created will be vaguely familiar to anyone from Thedas, just based on the fact that some things are near universal, and intimately familiar to Anders, who probably will want nothing to do with it. Stone walls and floors, lined with simple beds and chests, some carpets and wall hangings softening the echos and helping keep in the warmth, the light coming from oil lamps, a fireplace, and a few scattered candles. A couple of mirrors and washbasins are against one wall, and curtained-off rooms that probably are used for bathing. Each of the beds and chests have some sign of use and personalization - a bauble here, a scarf or book there, some beds made neatly, some rumpled. The faint sound of people speaking in the hallway and something being sung can be heard, but mostly what you can hear is the crackling of the fire and the turning of pages from one bed.

Steffa is laying on her stomach on one of the beds, a candle on the little nightstand next to her, reading a book she's brought from the Bishop's library.

Looks like someone was a wee bit homesick. ]

Edited 2015-04-08 05:18 (UTC)

[ so entranced by her own faux reality, lioriley doesn't even hear his approach until he clears his throat. it's then that she spins on her heel, wide-eyed as she faces him, back to the statues like her tiny figure will do anything to hide them. ]

Mattias! [ she squeaks out his name, fumbles to try and shift the images around them to something else - some other section of the city. She eventually decides on the snowy courtyard outside of the massive spiral tower where she once resided. good enough. ] It is - or a part of it, at the very least. I did not suspect this device could recreate it in its entirety.

[A place to create, to imagine, to remember. Of course Oren would be carried here. Whether by some sick sort of masochism or simple boredom, it's where he goes immediately after the ship is set to be worked on. His own presence would only clutter things, get in the way, and so he flees here.

As he steps across the room, his own imagined reality takes place of the one from before him. A river carved into the earth draws out before him, painting the scenery with the sounds of water, leaves, and the soft crunch of dirt beneath his shoes. By the time he stops, his section of the dome has been completely filled in.

He bends over to pick up a small pebble, thumb smoothing over the surface. It's nothing near the real thing. It tingles oddly, he can't really apply pressure, and the consistency is all wrong. Still, he carries it, glancing to the empty space beside him. Bitterly, he thinks this must be no different. A reenactment, if you will. There's nothing here beside him, and yet he remembers the hope he'd felt. It may be the worst memory he has. Standing by the river as his mother explained death, spreading the ashes of his grandmother together as his chest filled with this stupid idea that something, somehow, someday--

Would ever be different.

He scowls, winding his arm back and stepping forward in one harsh movement to chuck the pebble into the river. It wasn't an attempt at skipping it. It sinks straight to the bottom, and as his hand lowers, the scenery changes again.

This time, it's the upper city. He's at the top of the bridge, now, pulling back from the edge to glance down over it. He's so certain it must actually be floor there that he doesn't try to dangle his legs as he'd used to, but the view is just the same. Bridge after bridge in the expanse of city below.

He takes in a slow breath to calm himself, stepping back further from the edge to turn and face one of the nearby food stalls instead. He's considering it.]

[His hand fits in Oren's just as perfectly as it did the first time and his face twists from startled to brimming with a thousand smiles and trying to contain them all. It's embarrassing, he's blushing, but falling into Oren's steps with practiced ease. A laugh bubbles out of him and he can't stop it, shoulders shaking and bunching as he ducks his head.]

No. I would never. I'm merely surprised.

[He says it softly, laughing on a single breath. Wetting his lips, he shakes his head and continues.] I don't think I know this one.

[He does, but why stop the game now when he could relive every moment?]

[Mattias, meanwhile, runs his fingers across the spine of each and every book. The touch is a pale imitation, plastic instead of leather. Hard instead of soft. But it's enough. He starts midway, walking slowly along the bookshelves until, finally, he sees Zhas.

He doesn't jump. Doesn't yelp. Does nothing more that cant his head and blink curiously.]

Zhas? [Then, he remembers himself. He signs his nickname, then the rest. What you here fishing?

He tried.]

VRD - FIGHTING SIMULATOR, VAMPIRE EDITION

[so Zhas had thought that the whole VRD idea was stupid... until he realized he could create fake monsters to punch in the face. horrible things with tapeta lucida glinting in the dim light of a dark city street. long fangs, human faces. claws, more often than not. anyone who's spent any time on Earth would probably pin them as vampires.

he goes at it with, perhaps, more aggression than necessary. running, jumping, brawling, stabbing vampires with whatever virtual weapons he's allowed himself this time around. he's pretty good at it, though. they can barely get a virtual scratch on him, despite his continually speeding up the process. you can catch him in the middle of it, or while he's taking a break between rounds, trying to decide what to do next... either way, he's in full face paint, as usual. this is work, not play.]

VRD - OCEAN DREAMSCAPE

[much later in the month, in one of the side rooms, someone's built a... beach? the sky is overcast, dark, almost featureless. the ocean itself cuts so flat and straight across the horizon that you could forget it was an ocean at all--save for the slow lapping of waves against the shore. there are no birds here, not many stones or shells to break up the fine sand. just... an eerie, dark, endless ocean.

well, Zhas is there. he kind of sticks out against all that flat ground, in his black coat and painted face. he's crouched just where the waves turn and retreat, his boots already sunk a little into the wet sand. and he's just... staring, off into that horizon. thinking, maybe.

but hey, he didn't lock the door or anything. the room is open to anyone who wants to go inside.]

STATIONS - RED FISH & ELSEWHERE

[his ship is busted and it fucking suuuuucks. he can't help with ship repairs much, but he can barter for parts and take on jobs as hired muscle for money. gonna help him with a job? looking to talk to him? this broody skullface is around somewhere, even if he seems busy.]

I know.

[And Oren continues it, but only up to this point. As their hands join together and the other finds its way to the right spot, he takes the lead easily, and it's their competition all over again. This much is fun. He can throw in his own twists and turns, keeping Mattias on his toes even with known dances as his body presses closer.

He laughs, finally, in one step where he's the closest, breaking the illusion of a memory.]

It's been longer for you, hasn't it? Since then. It's unfair... [His grin fades into more of a smirk, and he lets their faces brush closer together through the next movements.] Though you haven't matured at all.

[Oren dances as he flies, with split-second decisions and ambitious twists, yet this time Mattias knows how to keep up. Mostly. He misses a step or three but it's still an improvement. Still something to be proud of.

His body, meanwhile, has learned no lesson. His chest swells and tenses as Oren moves closer and he swears he can feel Oren's heartbeat. His own heart races, the sound pumping in his eardrums. His words run like velvet over him and he leans in without thinking, all smiles and warmth until—That.

He stumbles. Trips over his own feet and grips Oren's hand tightly. It hurts more than it should. Less as his failures and more as a lie. He knows it isn't true. Or thinks he does. Yet Oren's words throw him int a frenzy and his thoughts get jumbled and rearranged to better fit his opinion.]

I suppose you're right. [It rides a nervous laugh.] I'm still the fool you knew.

Don't look so down!

[He's delighted in the fall of Mattias' face, but still he's quick to move and pick up the pieces. In light, purposeful words like his next spinning steps, he continues, smiling as they separate and press closer in quick succession.]

There's no fool I'd rather be dancing with. [That's one way to put it. He smiles warmly, pulling them a little closer than necessary for the next movement. He takes this time to steal a look at Mattias' eyes. As nice as that color is, it's disappointing to see, now.]

You've added more than you'd think, Messiah. [To his life, he means, but doesn't want to be so blunt, even when the meaning is more selfish than it sounds.] Why, and you've almost gained some confidence! Back on the ship, I was nearly impressed.

[He laughs.]

[Once again, Oren orchestrates the movements of his heart. Mattias puts up little resistance, falling into his jerks and pulls with easy acquiescence.]

Only nearly? [Again, he chuckles nervously.] What ruined it?

Catching on fire, I'd have to say.

[His eyes are bright when he says this, and the next movements are slow. The time changes in the song, it's a whole new dance. Mattias should be used to this by now.]

How is it?

[He is and he adjusts quickly, sparing a glance to quirk a brow.]

The burn or the dance?

[At that, he laughs. A look like that! Why? Had a comment on his mother affected his vision of him so? What brain wash.]

The burn, of course! I have no doubts about my dancing.

[He'd be lying if he wasn't thinking about it. Having missed the hubbub on Mor, or Dirkwall, or whatever the fuck that whole thing was about, Varric is itching to stretch his legs without having to deal with the people on the Waystation. Ironically, he's actually elbow-deep in business considering his more... unsavory skills. But he needs a break.

He wants to catch up with his bro, and that's when he gets a text.]

Perfect timing. Be there in an hour. I would be there instantaneously but I'm in the middle of something.

[As promised, though, he's there in the allotted time. Dressed about the same as usual-- red shirt (recently mended), leather duster (also recently mended), a red bandana about his neck and a very sad gap where Bianca ought to be. (He's still got a gun and a few knives holstered somewhere, though. Just in case.)

He gets sidetracked by the console though, giving Hawke a chance to approach him first.]

Of course. [He laughs, but it's more subdued.]

It exists? It's there? I see it in the mirror every morning.

[He looks down to his feet again.] Honestly, I'm not sure what you want me to say. Does it hurt? I'd have thought the answer to that painfully clear.

You're upset about it.

[He speaks his observation simply, and their dancing stays slow. It's fine, because he can stay close. His words are softer this way, and the furrowing of his brows can be taken for focus.]

I was asking for your thoughts. Have you none? Have you even been caring for it properly?

[Bishop;]

[Belthazar is relatively healed up from his concussion, but the aftereffects are sure to linger for a little while. He needs to be resting-- and he does, for a while-- but he is a child full of MUCH ENERGY and so he ends up... in the kitchen when he's not in the sick bay. He's stressed out and anxious and that means stress cooking.

He's making some kind of meat stew and dumplings, and it smells fucking delicious.]

[Waystation/VRD;]

[All right, there's only so much bed rest he can take. Somehow he manages to sneak out to the VRD. What he conjures is a vision of Silvermoon, or at least the main square, only this time it's not populated by douchebags. It's populated mostly by golden park benches and floating flowerpots and self-sweeping brooms.

Belth sticks out, a dark blot in his black and gold robes. He rests just beneath a windowsill. A book on another world's magic is sprawled in his lap. Upon closer inspection, the gentle autumn breeze has lured him to sleep.]

As captain of a ship somewhere in the near vicinity of yours, I feel obliged to inform you that you owe me at LEAST two questionably alcoholic, completely free drinks. Since I bought the drinks the last time there were new positions to celebrate.

[HEYO]

How sleepy are we talking, exactly?

[Actually going back to Thedas is obviously out of the picture, and he realizes that he doesn't yet know Hawke well enough to think of another place he might want to pull into the dome from there that isn't Kirkwall.

He really hopes they aren't talking about Kirkwall.]

A fair point! Two it is.

Are you familiar with the phrase 'one horse town'?

[ Obviously, everyone is, never minding that expression to have been introduced in like the 19th century. We've already sacrificed Wuthering Heights for the sake of comedy; this pales in comparison. ]

On that scale Lothering is more of a 'one chicken' town. It's your only chance to marvel in person at how someone of my incredible taste and sophistication could have come from such humble beginnings.

[ They could not be talking less about Kirkwall. ]

Edited (SWEET MAKER I AM FINALLY DONE EDITING) 2015-04-08 16:43 (UTC)

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Waystation Mingle Log!

vr, starstruck/waystation

in this thread: self indulgent garbage

VR

idk what you're talking about, this was definitely always here ...and there, and everywhere

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VRD

VR Dome (aka Warden Commander OPEN OFFICE HOURS! :D)

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VRD - more self indulgence tbh (OTA)

god kill me

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no

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2

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ss bishop/waystation; THIS IS A WAYSTATION MINGLE BUT I DO WHAT I WANT

i

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