EVENT ★ ROLLING 'ROUND THE BEND

[futurologists]

ASTERION PRISON The white light is blinding. The weightlessness continues. The air thins into nothingness, though those who breathe won't feel the pain of suffocation -- in fact, they won't feel the need to breathe at all. The sensation continues for what may seem like a second or an eternity; it's impossible to tell. And then the floor hits you. Or rather, you hit the floor. It's cold and metal and as your vision returns, you'll find you're not alone in this small room, though you're definitely not with anyone you know: standing in front of you is a brawny alien in a black uniform, its many purple eyes staring at you. The alien is flanked by a pair of robots, who take advantage of your dazed state and grasp you in their metal arms to drag you from the room into what appears to be a gigantic prison. As the robots drag you past cells -- some containing other aliens, some containing humanoids, and some containing your teammates -- you'll catch a glimpse of the outside through a window. You're in outer space. If questioned, the guard will only tell you that you've been accused of conspiracy to commit grand theft, and your trial will begin soon. But in the meantime, you'd better get cozy. YOUR NEW HOME Asterion Prison is a dreadnought class spaceship with several different cell blocks making up a majority of its innards, with the rest of the space designated for day-to-day running of the ship and living quarters for the guards. Audentes is housed in Block 26, which has six tiers of cells situated in a circle around the main recreational area, out of which juts the Block 26 guard tower. Each inmate, including Audentes recruits, has a glowing blue symbol emblazoned on their forehead. Though it's not immediately clear what the symbols mean, inmates who have been around longer will explain: it's a record of how many lives you've taken, a way for the guards to know who's the most dangerous. The symbol glows through any kind of attempt at covering it -- whether by makeup, clothing, hair, or something else -- so it's best to learn to deal with it quickly. Speaking of clothing, whatever recruits were wearing upon their abduction has been replaced by a uniform orange jumpsuit. Similarly, any weapons are no longer present, though those with a special connection to their weapons will feel that they are being held elsewhere on the ship. Luckily, the guards appear to have overlooked jewelcomms, so Audentes will be able to communicate with each other via magitek (text only is suggested, of course, unless you want to get caught!), though contact with Oska or any other outside ALASTAIR recruit seems to be blocked. LOCKDOWN As long as inmates keep to themselves and don't bother the guards, things run pretty smoothly. Two meals a day, five hours of sleep, and all the weights you need to get yourself swole. But on the sixth day in Asterion Prison, all hell breaks loose. No one knows who started it, but there's suddenly a loud roar from the milling crowd in the recreational area. Most inmates scatter, but some rush in -- to see what's going on or to get a piece of the action themselves, who knows -- and then everything becomes an all-out brawl. Super strong aliens with various powers fight each other loudly and violently while others cower and run for cover. The old alien ducks behind his chess board just in time to avoid a barbell sailing overhead; a six-armed being shoots lava out of its mouth, which does nothing to the metallic floor but severely burns a group of humanoid toads wielding shivs. The fight goes on for a few long minutes before correctional officers and their robot guards pour in to try and get things under control. Those who are still around once the officers come in are in threat of being dragged off to solitary, even if they had nothing to do with the brawl, so make yourself scarce unless the idea of sitting in the dark for another six days seems appealing. OOC NOTES Welcome to space prison! We hope you'll enjoy your stay. There is a plotting write-up here with extra information about the prison ship, and please note that participation in the symbol directory is mandatory. If you have any questions about the prison that aren't answered here, please direct them to the Leramzen dossier. Questions about the game in general should be directed to the FAQ and you may submit mission ideas or player plots at any time.

Comments

[kisha]

[He has a point. The guards surely would wonder about that- but she has no intentions of letting them see the two of them together, nor see them parting with haste, either.]

They shall not wonder for the sight they are used to seeing.

[The sight she has been up until a day or so past, a large lump of morose flesh turning to morose skeleton in the corner of her cell. With haste, Hayame lumbers to her knees and lays herself down on the floor in the corner, legs tucking up under her body-

Leaving a small space open just between her belly and the corner wall- just large enough for a human of shorter stature to fit in, if not a bit snugly. With as large as her lower half was, he wouldn't even be visible unless someone came in at least halfway into the cell.

Leaning her shoulder and cheek against the wall, preparing a slouch and the defeated curve of spine, she jerks her head to... invite.

Technically the closest she's ever invited any man to be to her, but. He doesn't need to know that.]

[sentry]

[Eight doesn't follow at first, watching the way she folds herself against the wall. That surely is what the guards would expect to see when it comes to her, much as he dislikes thinking about it. He isn't sure what to do about his own presence here however — that is, until her indication that he join her.

One eyebrow hikes up as he watches her, hesitant to interpret it that way. Hayame has an appreciation for personal space, and he'd be quite close to her if he's between her body and the wall. Still, he imagines she'll correct the matter quickly if he is mistaken. Her horned lord would surely give him a speech about besmirching honor of something of the like.

Actually he's surprised he hasn't gotten one already, considering the circumstances of his first meeting with her.

In the end it's the approaching footfalls of the guards that spur him forward, not wanting to be the cause of further injury to her, though there's a cautious rigidity about his approach. He's slow to step into this gap between her and the wall, and slower still about folding down into it, attention divided between the cell door and brief glances to gauge her expression. He has no doubt that Hayame wouldn't mask her irritation if she were affronted.

But it seems that he settles against her without incident, pressed as close to the wall as he can be in some effort to minimize contact. It's something of a moot point like this, but while he hasn't much need of personal space in the physical sense, he understands hers]

[kisha]

[As Eight gets into the position she has prepared for him, Hayame keeps stock still, barely even breathing, her face a stony mask that, to begin with, shows no emotion. At least, for a short while, while she has a tremulous hold on things with the approaching footfalls in her ears.

She gives him no word, they're too close, instead slightly rolling her equine half inward to further obscure where he is bulkiest, the shoulders, swishing tail to drape over legs and her long mane likewise, pressing her cheek to the cell wall and then slouching, trying to affect the posture of a woman defeated, the woman in the cell from yesterday. But her attempts had led to nothing, and the sharpened scale knife she had planned to slit her belly open with is now instead tucked unbloodied into her orange uniform. Still close.

There was no honor in giving in to a fear of death and failing even at suicide. There was no honor in hiding from one's foes.

But she's afraid there was little honor in her any longer.

The guards come eventually, but not before Hayame has time to notice things. Like the warmth of Eight's body heat, or the feel of his narrow hip against her belly, head so close to her second chest- and it's a good thing she has her head away and down, just as hidden from them as the Class-0 student was, because rather than looking scared or morose...

Hayame is blushing.

Even through the guards' comments, "this thing still hasn't moved?", and even through the eventual sound of them moving on in their search.]

[sentry]

[For his part, Eight is quite good at remaining still. He had, in his career, had need to hunker down in one place without notice on many occasions. This is the first time he's been curled up against someone rather than some unyielding surface or inside of some container, taking advantage of his small stature. Much as he hated being reminded of his size, he's known how to use it.

Just not pressed up against someone else in this manner. He's got enough siblings that close quarters may be nothing new either, and when they were younger, the others would sometimes crowd him on cold nights. Naturally a bit warmer than the rest as he is, Eight made a good heat source. With age and moving into dorms, those habits changed, but that's a factor that never would've affected Hayame.

He'd only met her here, the circumstances of which he elects not to review as he bends his focus toward retreating voices and boots clomping against the cold metal floor. Once they've receded into distant echoes, Eight's just as purposefully slow about picking himself up as he had been with lying down.

That he's crowded her hasn't left his awareness, and he doesn't want to make matters worse]

Some guards...

[He mutters, though it obviously worked in their favor]

[kisha]

[Hayame is sadly all too aware of the heat in her cheeks at a time like this, inexperienced enough around men that even this sort of closeness is enough to embarrass her. In seeking to avoid the possibility of being sold as a broodmare she has spent most of her life spurning them, quite violently at times-

(Though as often and as violently as she had rebuffed Matsukaze, he had still-)

But there's no time for such things here, and she simply sits as still as she can as the guards leave, as Eight begins to unfold and extract himself. It is almost tempting to stay where she is, where she'd grown comfortable in the days past, the smooth cell walls whispering to her-

But she can't. She promised, so she has to get her legs back under her, bracing in the corner with a palm to lever up.]

As their "machines" grow smarter their senses grow duller.

[At least, she hopes that is what it is- hopes that she would be given at least that small advantage in a place like this.]

[sentry]

[Despite himself, fully aware that he's so much smaller than her and unable to be of any practical assistance, Eight still offers her a hand. Call it a reflex, borne of being one among a dozen siblings. No one else was there to pick them up but one another, often surrounded by enemies or at least those who either resented them or expected they needed no help to start with.

As he waits for her to get up, he notes the color on her face, and feigns interest in the doorway. There's no evidence that the guards are doubling back, of course. It seems right that he should give her a few moments to collect herself, however.

They're both fighters, and he knows he'd rather not be stared down during a lapse in composure, if ever he had one]

Relying on tek doesn't promote strength, in my experience.

[To some degree, it was useful, but an enemy that needed machinery in order to fight was also an enemy who couldn't effectively retaliate without it. These guards seem no better in that respect, leaning too heavily on something that might one day fail them. In the same regard, Eight never needs to worry about his own weapons letting him down, for his body is that weapon.

It may be something that they could take advantage of. Their abilities aren't hampered, if his own capacity to cast spells is any indication. Noctis is practically a firing squad all on his own, so if they combined efforts, they might be able to break out of here...

But there's a lot of variables involved in that. Gauging the response time of the guards just now lessened that number, but only by one]

[kisha]

True.

[The hand she ignores, but she does not give it a look of disdain or disgust for the offer. She can simply do it by herself, and she has interacted with him enough that she realizes he simply does such things, and it likely isn't a slight against her abilities or gender. She gets up on her own, human and equine halves working together seamlessly to get her back to her feet.

She looks down and notes a fleck of blood on her back hoof, which she scrapes off on the floor with an idle motion, working on wiping the blush from her cheeks.]

... Next time do not allow a desire to conceal your strength be something that leads to injuries.

[She manages a somewhat chastising tone, despite the condition she herself had been in days past, and the injuries she herself had accumulated, clearing her throat to clear the last of the pink away. (In her defense... she hadn't been motivated by a desire to hide her strength.)]

[sentry]

[Desire to conceal his strength... Eight knows he's spoken of the value of being able to lay low when necessary, to blend in where doing otherwise would cause trouble, but he hadn't thought she'd expect him to always do so. Under these circumstances, there isn't much value in pretending that he's just some civilian.

After all, the glowing marks on his forehead can't be hidden, from what he's seen of others' attempts to do so]

I was testing the guards' response time.

[In the end, his decision was wholeheartedly pragmatic. They need to break out of this place eventually, and that requires more information than they currently have. It seems that way to him, at any rate. What others are doing about the situation isn't something he's concerned himself with for the time being]

Got to get out of here eventually, right?

[kisha]

[Hayame doesn't know what she believes when it comes to these numbers. What counted? Were they to believe that every single kill was one caused directly? She couldn't know, and so she refused to take some magical glowing number at face value.

Or maybe that was just because she didn't want to acknowledge the "0" on her own forehead.

Still, he gives a good enough excuse for her to accept it, however grudgingly.]

...

[Getting out. It had been hard enough to convince herself to get off the floor, to eat, to try and live- getting out seems an even more unobtainable thing, even though she knows it is the next step.]

I cannot go unnoticed in this place, but you may call upon me if you require.

[She could hardly sneak anywhere, stealthily watch or record people, or infiltrate with a body like hers and the way she stood out even amongst various alien inmates, but.

Something. She had to do something.]

[sentry]

[Eight takes the lack of further objection as understanding. As overwhelming as what they're pitted against is for him, that's nothing new in his life. He'd squared off against a demigod who could crush the lot of them like flies — this is just another absurdity to add to a growing collection. So far as he's concerned, the universe (multiverse, whatever) can keep right on throwing these things at him.

He's got somewhere he should be, and he's not giving up until he returns to that place. More to the point, he's not giving up until he returns to those people.

Class Zero is where he belongs, be it in life or death.

He lets his hand drop as Hayame picks herself up, unsurprised that his assistance is foregone. In contrast, her offer is cause for a long moment of silence. And if she might well hear the wheels in his head turning, for all that this measure of acceptance, in its way, is quite baffling to him.

While he believes they acknowledge each other on some level, he's never assumed cooperation would come with it]

Stealth isn't the only thing that matters.

[There's a certain strength that others lack, and they're going to need]

[kisha]

[On some level. Far be it for her to voice anything that reeked of trust or cooperation, certainly not not when she couldn't even wrap her head around what they were supposed to do. Not when every version of escape ended up with having to think about what happened after... and that meant thinking about the Black.

So she can't think about that. She can only think about the very next step that needs addressing, and that seems to primarily require stealth. Still.]

I know.

[It's all she can say. Just pledging any degree of assistance was a large step for her, and there seems little else that could follow. So instead, she just points to her hair- more importantly the magatama bead on a leather thong she uses as a hair tie. Her magitech.]

You know how to reach me.

[sentry]

[Eight nods once, lifting a hand to point at the chevron-shaped cuff on his left ear. It's typical for him to cup his hand over his ear like he would back home while using COMMs, so it's almost a familiar gesture for him. The technology is fairly similar, he supposes, though he doesn't know how it works.

He might trust it marginally more if he had that information, but there's little chance of that]

Yeah, I'll keep you posted.

[With that, he lets his hand drop, turning to leave. It's good to see Hayame up on her feet again and willing to act, but he doesn't need to linger here. Eventually those guards will return, and there's no reason to call attention to themselves by crowding her cell.

He does pause for just one thing, as he takes his leave]

Stay strong.

[And then with his strangely quick gait, he's off]