hadriel_logs | Intro Log: Mimicry

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Intro Log: Mimicry

Who: New arrivals and everyone else!
What: The intro log for March
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: March 10th-16th
Warnings: Fresh meat and fatal sweets.

Rise and shine, it's time to meet your new home! While the two suns overhead might make it a bit of a scorcher, there's plenty of shade to be found around you, so get out of the sun before you burn! While you're at it, you might want to introduce yourself to the others who woke up in the same predicament as you- or just run off on your own, that's cool too.

Be careful though, because you're arriving with a bunch of, uh- inanimate objects? Wait, that's no chair! These are mimics, small gelatinous spider-like creatures that can transform into inanimate objects and then pop out to scare you. If you can keep calm, mimics are no big deal, but if you give them the opportunity they will jump onto your head and suffocate you, before using your corpse to reproduce. Nice!

That's alright though, because if you can survive the mimics then you have delicious food waiting for you as a reward! In a shocking twist of events, the items supplied by the Door have no significant twist, save for the desire to eat every single one you can get your hands on. They're Girl Scout Cookies! Long the envy of boy scouts everywhere, these delicious treats will have you munching away your daily caloric intake in no time!

Just, uh- be careful, as the mimics seemed to have caught onto everyone's desire for these colorful boxes. Approach your cookies carefully!

Once you've escaped the mimics and grabbed some snacks, you're ready for the wider world of Hadriel. Feel free to go explore the rest of the city! Find a house, a new monster, a project to help with, or simply scavenge for supplies. Good luck, and enjoy your stay in Hadriel!

► This log covers March 10th-16th.
► Feel free to make your own logs as well!
► All characters arrive with phones that have network communication and the newbie guide installed.
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!

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[He escapes the coliseum with a few scrapes for his trouble, though it's really nothing when you compare it to the scorch mark of a hole burned through his shirt. Now and then he brushes his hand over it as if he's expecting to find a wound there, but all that's visible through the fabric is unmarked skin.

Jet Star is not the kind of man who is easily ignored. At over six feet, broad, and topped with a veritable cloud of black, curly hair, his presence is one that announces itself. He makes his way into the city proper, a little dazed and more than a little confused (as one might expect a recently deceased person to be), and as he does he finds that he's looking at everything.

It's no Battery City, but it's not the Zones either. The desert isn't the same, even without the two suns blazing in the sky.

With the shock of his very recent demise and the even more recent clap he had to get himself out of with those things in the coliseum, it doesn't take long before Jet seeks out some shade and sits down, pushing his hair back and running one thumb around the edge of the patch over his eye while he tries to make sense of what's going on.]

Witch lied, or something all kinds of Costa Rica is happening here...

[ Sometimes, the big things don't happen with a bang.

Sometimes, they do with a fizzle. Or with nothing at all. Extraordinary days don't necessarily stay so all throughout them, and ordinary days can change in a moment.

Party vaguely took note of the commotion. He's leaving the house more now, but not for as long as he did. Things have gone quieter, less tense but not entirely calm, but he's...trying. He's trying to push through. He's trying to be there.

He rounds the corner without looking, staring ahead at where it seems like he's noticed people going. Something about the Colosseum? New people? Ghoul told him something about that.

Party's heading there, more out of curiosity than expectancy, though he has no plan to go inside and fight some monster again.

Party, never a subtle sight. And apparently distracted, because he doesn't notice the large familiar young man sat nearby.]

[Party is not a sight that anyone could miss, and least of all Jet Star, who saw his brains get blown out of the back of his head less than an hour ago.

He doesn't speak at first, when he sees him. He stares, like he's seen a ghost - and it might as well be, for the chill that shoots through him at the sight. Party's dead. Party is dead. But so is he, he thinks, so there's no reason that--]

Party.

[To quiet. Too soft, strained, wrapped around the shock of seeing the younger man walking and catching in his throat like a barb.

He tries again, and this time it comes out louder as he gets to his feet.]

Party!

[ Party stops, seemingly jumping, startled - all too normal for him, specially with how focuses he was on where to go, and with how distant he's been from everything.

It all happens in a second. There's two voices in these two months that his brain has registered as they only ones who will ever call his name anymore, completely scrapping out the others he's met. But the familiar voice takes a moment to click, just as he turns around and-

He doesn't move after that. Everything stops and he can't--

This place is impossible. Everything, all of it around here is impossible, and his mind still falters by trying to make sense of something that never could.

Oh, Jet. He missed you.]

[Party doesn't move, but Jet does. He crosses the space between them in a few long strides and places both hands down very gently on the other young man's shoulders. His fingers twitch, as if he didn't expect to find something solid under them, then they gently squeeze and and small smile comes to his face as he huffs out a quiet laugh through his nose.]

Still kicking?

[Should have known. Death wouldn't hold someone like Party. Nothing could.]

... Good to see you.

Collosseum

Kelson was in court, black hair pulled back in the familiar braid he'd adopted over the past couple of years, stark against the crimson Haldane tunic he was wearing, unsheathed sword resting like a scepter against his shoulder. He'd opted for a less flashy coronet, not as extravagant as the crown he'd use for feasts or as simple was ones he'd use for smaller events---or when he wanted to prove a point. He listened to an earl prattle on about something he should care more about, half listening as the other half of his mind wallowed in self pity and emotional torment.

Life went on, even if it didn't for others. He still had a job to do, and he couldn't stop being king because his feelings got hurt. One day he'd get over having to execute his cousin. Today was not going to be that day. He could still remember Conall flinching at the last moment, and the executioner's sword faltering. When he was first crowned four years ago, he'd never thought his hands would be stained with so much blood. He never thought he'd be forced to kill his own cousin. God, Kelson remembered playing with him when they were children. They grew up together. And then Kelson had killed him. He wished he could go back and see the signs. They'd been obvious. He had seen them. And he hadn't acted. And now there were multiple dead bodies, and lives ruined. He knew he hadn't had a choice. But it didn't mean he had to like it.

And then he wasn't in court anymore. He wasn't in Rhemuth Castle or even Gwynedd. And he wasn't on his throne anymore. He was on the ground. He stood up and sheathed his sword, feeling lucky he hadn't accidentally beheaded himself with it when he fell, or was transported or whatever happened. The king took a look around, possibilities running through his head. Had he been drugged? Did he lose time? He didn't remember anything that would point to that but it wasn't out of the realm of thought, especially with the head injuries he'd recently recovered from. How did he get here? There wasn't a transfer portal in Court, but he wasn't foolish enough to believe he knew everything about magic. So much had been lost, and he was sure what he did know only began to scratch the surface of what was possible.

He made the mistake of looking up, and winced, seeing spots as his eyes gazed up at the sun. No two suns. Either that or he was hallucinating. Had that wine earlier tasted funny? He thought it had been a good Fianna red. If there was something in it they had disguised it well. And no one had attempted to restrain him. That was foolish. He stood to his full height, straightening and setting his face, determined and cold; grey Haldane eyes flashing. He looks down at one of the girl scout cookie boxes, and raises an eyebrow. That definitely looked like a trap. Ambush. Poison. Who leaves food around like that (if it really was even food?) if they weren't offerings? No. Trap.

"That seems a little too blatant...." No, Kelson ignored the boxes and was intend on walking straight out.

Around

Having made it out of the collosseum relatively unscathed, Kelson looked around, trying to navigate the new city and poking around at the device. The guide he found had left a lot to be desired, and a lot that he needed to contemplate. Gods (although he'd be damned if he ever called them that. They were not divine), the Null, different worlds, and a Transfer Portal strong enough to bridge between them. Now that was something.... Was the Portal unstable? Could he use it to get back home? Certainly not without help.

He had taken off the coronet that had been gracing the top of his head and was carrying it looped around his arm--and for once there wasn't anyone there to make fun of him or ask him if he was planning on carrying it around all day or did the king want to wear it like he was supposed to. He wandered the streets, looking at buildings and sights, trying memorize where everything was, taking a momentary break from his own self pity to orient himself and try and come up with a plan besides 'survive and wait for people to find me.'

Can anyone hear this? Kelson sent to on a wide-band signal, hoping there might be someone who could hear the thought.

Out loud, he said, "I don't suppose there's any place I can get food?" He wasn't that hungry, but food and water was as necessary as shelter, and that at least he could find. There had to be food somewhere, or these people wouldn't be thriving the way they were--although he used the word thriving sparsely. They weren't going for each other's throats but had organized some sort of militia at least. It was a start.

Edited 2018-03-10 22:51 (UTC)

In the ghettooo

There are a lot of things that are not. awesome. about this. Tony is pretty sure that he isn't the only one who feels that way, but right now the feelings of anyone else around him come a slow second in the face of shape-shifting creepy as fuck monsters that seem to want to get in his face, or on his face it's difficult to say.

It takes much longer than he'd have liked to get away from the majority of them, to traverse the land and arrive somewhere that feels more comfortable - but he knows instinctively that he's not out of the woods yet and worse he has this sense that he is going to feel a similar anxiety for some time to come. Not that he isn't used to being on pins and needles for weeks on end, but this isn't New York, or Malibu or anywhere he might be able to hunker down and throw himself easily into something. Not that there aren't projects to get involved in, apparently.

He can tell that there really are other people here, might have passed a few on his way out of the death pit, and he knows there are others milling around-- people who look incredibly human and haven't an ounce of recognition when they pass him. He'd half hoped someone would shout his name, point him in a direction and it would turn out this was all some elaborate training exercise.

It's not.

There are two suns in the sky, and he doesn't have a pair of sunglasses, and even this box of girl scout cookies aren't going to cut it.

Could just go inside.

( Instead of sitting on the steps of the building she's trying to get into, no matter how much shade is offered. She walks, speaks with the casual familiarity that all but screams I've been here a while now. The days where The Door is open are all too common, and it's easier to assume that everyone who comes through has read the newbie guide rather than explain things a million times over. )

[she certainly doesn't shout out his name because she doesn't know who he is, but she's been here long enough to recognize the look on his face as belonging to one who has just arrived and is trying to make sense of their current environment.

she takes pity on him and approaches, smiling. it should be noted that she's wearing this and has a sword tied to her belt]

Hello! Have you just arrived?

[George is on her way back to the clinic when she sees it. not Tony, but the Girl Scout cookies. yum. and oh yeah, there seems to be a vaguely confused person carrying them. is it that time already? time flies when you're not having fun]

Hey. Where'd you get those. [she points at the cookies]

[For the most part, Tony's trying not to look like he doesn't know what he's doing here - but he's failing, he knows that much. Especially when he's approached and landed with that question. Maybe she just knows everyone here already? Could this place be that small?

Casting his gaze across Margaery leaves him with little more to work on than what's obvious. She's armed. She's smiling (could mean anything), and she's... friendly? Still, his hands slip into his pockets and he takes a tidy step back, on just one foot - preparing himself mentally and physically to get out of here. You know, if she decided to leap at his face or something.]

That obvious, huh?

[There's a shout - okay, that's fine. Absolutely. A quick glance at her, and then down to the package he's carefully cradling under one arm. They're half eaten already, and maybe the only reason he hasn't devoured the whole lot is because somewhere inside him is this innate desire not to put on a tonne of weight because he's conscious of these kinds of things and sure he could probably work it off in an afternoon but actually - given his hectic morning he rather thinks he's earned half the box anyway.

His gaze pinches, and he turns his head away slightly, pulling the box closer against his chest.]

Around.

[Not a lie.]

She doesn't recognize him, but she does recognize that what the hell is happening look. Cashmere likes to stay far away from the Colosseum and it's endless bullshit, but rest of the city isn't terrible. Comparatively. At least she has sunglasses.

Watching him for a few moments, she weighs her options. She could try to help him, or she could go about her own business and continue to enjoy the fact that Hadriel now has sun (a lot of it) after literally being in a cave for... basically forever. He might be a pain in the ass. He looks like a pain in the ass. But if she just lets all the new arrivals wander around, eventually one will get in trouble and she'll have to deal with it. Better to avoid having a bigger mess later on.

Cashmere slips off the half-wall she's been sunning herself on and follows after him. "Hey! Looking for something?"

Aloy, luckily, is used to this sort of disorientation by now. Really, she's still feeling it herself. This place is such a far cry from her world that she's still constantly adjusting, and every newcomer just seems to manage to surprise her all over again.

Still, Tony looks a bit out of his depth, and so Aloy changes course and heads toward him. She's wearing a mismash of armor—hand stitched leather and machine plating all encased in a shimmering, softly glowing energy shield. That, plus the bow slung over her shoulder, makes her look a little bit like someone from the stone age who decided to slap salvaged bits of power armor on. Which isn't... entirely off base. It probably won't help Tony's current mood.

"You're new, aren't you?"

[she knows a large portion of the people here. she also runs the Sewing Shop, which puts her into contact with a lot of people. and yes, this place can be that small.

she's not going to leap at his face. he's not Cersei Lannister, after all. she notices him taking precautions though, and stops her approach to stay within an arm's reach, arms hanging casually by her sides and maintaining that smile]

Perhaps a bit? Also, new people tend to come here around this time.

My name is Margaery Tyrell, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. May I ask your name?

He's busy. Sort of. In a Tony fashion. There's architecture to wrap his head round and new technology that looks like it belongs in a sci-fi movie. Inanimate objects that aren't inanimate and he's sure, he's sure there are many more horrors to confront that he's not ready for.

Mostly, he's been sticking to the shade, and maybe that's made him less cautious - because there's a voice behind him and it startles Tony enough to make him turn abruptly enough that the sand under his feet scrapes and rises a few inches into the air... he'd prefer it if he didn't ruin the only pair of shoes he has in the first day of being elsewhere.

Sunglasses?

"Oh, you know. Nothing much. Just-- a way out of here would do."

[she almost snickers at the protective measures he takes towards his box of Girl Scout cookies, but she restrains herself. she's not that big of a bitch ~~anymore~~.

she relaxes her posture a little bit, seeing that she's put this newbie on the defensive. not cool. she tries for a smile. people like smiles, right? right.

teasingly] That's nice and vague. Planning on keeping 'em all for yourself, are you?

"Am I wearing a sign?" He starts, perhaps with more animosity than it really needs but he's having a bad day and Tony's still struggling to comprehend the fact that he really isn't the only one who has been through this, is going through this.

A quick turn and he stops still, gaze darting across Aloy's form - trying to smash together what he knows about what she's wearing and work out just what it is that he's seeing. There is too much shit here that looks like it's come right out of a sci-fi movie, and just when he thinks he might be able to stop staring - he finds something else to want to touch.

"Tony Stark."

He doesn't offer his hand.

Don't worry, Tony. There will totally be other pairs of shoes, as long as you don't care about things like color, or material, or durability.

She nods. "Oh, that's all?" she gestures further ahead of them. "The portal to send you home opens down that street, left, right, right, and another left. Usually about 15 minutes after never. We've all been stuck here for... well. Years." She's given up on getting home. Not that she was ever really interested in going back.

"You might as well pick an apartment and get settled because if there's a way out, we haven't found it."

[Okay. This is fine.

He's been here long enough already, seen enough, heard enough to know not to underestimate anything, or anyone which is entirely why he's keeping his distance and quietly glad that Margaery here has decided to read his body language and give him space. He can respect that. Awesome.]

Stark. Tony Stark.

Trying to tell me these are the only cookies in this entire city?

[On any other day he probably wouldn't care. He'd eaten enough of them, but there's something compelling Tony to hang on and keep them for himself. He'll eat more of them later.]

[she was taught how to read people and gauge their reactions since birth and she can definitely tell that this new person is feeling tense and uncertain. she can sympathize. she was thrown completely off balance by her arrival after her death.

that last name, though]

Are you related to Sansa Stark?

For a moment. For the briefest, tiniest, minuscule moment he thinks she might be pointing him in the very direction he wants to go. Being here is still fresh, still new enough that the lessons from Valentine's message haven't quite sunk in deep enough to be settled as knowledge.

Tony's eyes close, he lets out a sigh and shifts his weight - into a far more assertive stance, eyebrow arching as he listens, watches, tries to work whoever the hell this is out. Only there's that tidbit of information and something behind his eyes falters.

"Years."

Shaking hands isn't really a thing where Aloy's from, so she isn't offended. She tilts her head at him, lips quirking up slightly. "The look on your face gives you away. I'm Aloy."

[she shrugs]

There's the bakery? They make cookies. However, they don't make Thin Mints and I haven't had those in ages.

[hey, whatever gives him comfort? she's not so good at people, but she is good at tracking time and she figures it's got to be new people day. and this particular new person seems a little flustered]

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Intro Log: Mimicry

Jet Star | In the city | OTA~

Re: Jet Star | In the city | OTA~

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Kelson Haldane | OTA

tony stark | mcu | OTA!

|D

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