exsiliumlogs | transport log » ❝ welcome to Exsilium ❞

Entry tags:

transport log » ❝ welcome to Exsilium ❞

Date: January 3rd
Location: The Initiative Hold & Courtyard.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports have all arrived and have been led to a banquet room within the Hold.
Warnings: None.

You've just been hustled and bustled through mazes of information and literal, wide corridors of the Initiative Hold and you've been equipped with your weapon—be it a gun, a sword, or even your existing powers. They've handed you this light netbook and a small pouch of coins (or a debit card, if you're more inclined), and there are several Transports before and after you going through the very same motions. You can hear the Greeter's voice as she walks alongside large groups, telling them all about the history of this place and sharing with you your purpose here in a hurried and urgent tone. "You're in luck that we have enough rooms for all of you; the housing building is getting awfully full. Please, let me show you into the courtyard."

You pass what looks like huge gymnasiums, all with dummies and targets strewn and splayed around the room. Training areas. There are even classrooms, and a few small offices. You're rushed past a large library while the Greeter informs you that you can find almost all your information there, if you've got the time to look—and trust her, you'll have time. You don't spend a lot of time in the bank, and it's a bit of a blur of exchanges with more and more of these strangely-accented and oddly polite-seeming members of the Initiative.

Soon enough, you're in a massive courtyard bustling with all the other Transports. It's not exactly what you'd expect, and it looks more like barracks than anything—huge walls of concrete and stone, separating you from all of the hallways you'd just passed through. It's raining heavily, and dark clouds loom in the air, though it hasn't turned to snow. It's a chill cold, and there are shelters—long cloth hangings that extend from the walls of concrete to house you from the rain, but not enough. Most notably, the courtyard is filled with a marketplace. Even in the cold and the rain, there are several citizens seated at their covered booths and tables, bundled up against the weather. They're selling all manner of their own handmade goods and foods, and citizens and Transports alike are traveling from one small covered shop to another in search of all manner of necessities.

The Greeter's voice has become so faint now, but you swear you can make it out in the back of the crowds as she tells you, "Good luck. Be safe!"

Her voice is drowned out by the busy marketplace, though even the transactions taking place are somewhat subdued. Nobody is overly happy, really, though most citizens can be found with smiles on their faces. It doesn't seem like they're that shocked to see you, either; even if you're not bound in tattered rags and wrapped in heavy shawls as they are. You're welcome to walk up to a shop, and find yourself something to eat—hey, maybe you'll even find something akin to a raincoat. Or, you can join the others under the coverings against the walls. Where am I? What war? She was talking so fast, and it didn't all make very much sense… did anyone else catch it all?

Welcome to the courtyard. Welcome to the Initiative Hold—and most importantly, welcome to Exsilium

Threaded | Flat

[ The weather may be dark and dreary and wet, but Feferi is none of those things... well, she might be wet, because that's what rain tends to do, but she doesn't look too bothered, all bundled down as she is, and carrying a satchel at her side. She's downright chipper, actually, desperately tries to make eye contact with as many new arrivals as she can. She greets almost every unfamiliar face with an offer of a damp but useable paper pamphlet version of the new arrivals guide, and the same opening line, endeavoring much harder than the official greeter lady to be heard: ]

Hello, welcome! Is there something I can help you find?

[The ends of Anthy's red gown are caked in mud, the elaborate garment sitting heavy with rainwater on her small frame. Its loud display must make her stand out against this grey backdrop. There's only one possible purpose she could have here, only one possible weapon she could wield.

She can sense it when she touches her hand to her chest; a hollow thing where her heart should be, and it hums an ancient song to her and ensnares her in the same old shackles she thought she'd cut loose. This time she will be somebody else's Rose Bride, only this time she understands less. It's slipping out of her control. Anthy walks through the Courtyard and pays little thought to the rain, taking slow and shell-shocked steps with no destination in mind. Her long hair gathers water and curls into tendrils that lie flat on her back.

Everything she'd taken with her outside of Ohtori is gone, including Chu-Chu. She has a suitcase on her person, into which she's already placed the new items they've given her. They seem to be mocking her -- all she has now is everything she left behind and this bizarre new future.

She clutches the handle of her suitcase with a harder grip, drawing to a stop and bowing her head. Should she buy an umbrella? Should she go to her new room? Should she climb to the highest surface she can find and jump?]

Edited 2013-01-04 00:51 (UTC)

[Clive didn't much care for the rain, the situation or the fact that he hadn't understood most of what had flown from his guide's mouth. He didn't even really care for the others that appeared to be in the same situation as he was, and he eased away from the crowd to settle his back against a wall to survey the people and situation. His dark cloak was pulled around him, both against the cold and to hide a little in the shadows.

His cinnamon coloured eyes moved keenly, taking in appearances, confused emotions, and allowed himself to just drift. Another war, hmm? He was getting good at them now, given this was his third, but he supposed it was just another waste of time for most.

He wrinkled his nose a little as Sturm hummed against his side, vibrating with odd conflicting sensations. He kept the rifle hidden under his cloak, and he was annoyed that the rifle was noisier than his two new acquisitions.]

Be still, Sturm. We'll deal with the Guild later. [That wasn't what the rifle was abuzz about.]

Edited 2013-01-04 02:27 (UTC)

[ Of all the things Serah expected out of death, this was certainly not one of them. She soaked up all the bits and pieces of information offered to her like a sponge, trying to make sense of it all. They had neglected to mention if this was truly the afterlife, or whether she had somehow been granted a second chance at living. The rush left her with no time to ask – the greeters scurried away as quickly as they had come. So she wondered in silence: Are the rest here the same as she is, simply a lost soul floating through an unfamiliar territory? Would-be heroes who fell too soon?

Her attention eventually drifts from those thoughts to the weapon in her hand. They said it would be sentient, as if that was a new fact. Mog, of course, had always been sentient; her right hand ~~man~~ moogle in every battle she and Noel had faced. It was strange, just how quiet he had been during the tour. Perhaps he didn't want the curators to see him for some reason. They were gone now, she thinks, so that shouldn't be a problem anymore. ]

Mog, I need your help here. Can you hear me? [ She speaks out loud toward the bow, as if it was a person. When there's no response, she shakes it. Passer-bys may very well think she's talking to herself or to them. ] Hellooo?

[Judal had only been paying half-attention to the greeter's words as they passed through the building and into the courtyard. Whenever the greeter's back was turned, he'd been making faces like a five year old would on a school trip.

He can feel the strength of the crowd of new arrivals as he steps into it, smirking to himself. There are some powerful people around here, though it's hard to tell which is which in such a large assembly. Luckily, the sudden rain doesn't bother him at all, aside from making his long hair that much heavier. He wanders around towards any groups standing close to food stalls and shops, before eventually stopping so he can lean over someone's shoulder and say:]

Hey, you. I've got a question.

[He has no intention of being polite in order to the get answer, and he leans in closer to make his point. Judal is not backing off until someone answers him, and you're going to get dripped on if you don't decide quickly.]

[Scathach is, in fact, on the lookout for a raincoat. She cannot stand the rain, and is doing everything she can to avoid it: dodging between shops and awnings, holding various items over her head to keep the rain off her hair. But this is mostly futile, and the skinny redhead ends up more or less soaked by the time she gives up her search and heads back to the hold. Her hair and clothing are sticking to her, and she looks more than a little like a cat that has just been thrown into a creek. To say the least, she looks like a miserable teenager.

The only thing off is how she shakes her head a little too quickly for a normal human, and when she finishes, her hair is merely damp. Scatty mutters to herself in Gaelic, running a hand through her hair and glancing around. New recruits, excellent.]

1 - (For Everyone)
[Shinji's never been good with large crowds. Walking through them always gave him a feeling akin to drowning. And so he walks fast, skirting the edges of the market, making a wide berths to avoid others. He doesn't know what he's looking for. All he knows is that he wants out of this packed marketplace and find somewhere where there wasn't so much strange people.

He keeps his head down as he fast-walks, barely aware of his surroundings. He may or may not be watching where he's going.]

2 - (For Asuka)
[After awkwardly drifting around for a while, Shinji decides that he's done for today. He doesn't care much for socializing right now. All he wants to do is find his room, curl into bed, and pretend that this was all a bad dream.

And so, with shoulders hunched and arms clutched, he slowly heads back to the hold. It's freezing out here, compared to the eternal summer of his world, and his current clothes offer little protection.

He wishes that he had his SDAT player. The noisy drone of market activity and the new arrivals mingling only irritated and intimidated him.]

You don't understand-- [ He was in the middle of trying to tell the Greeter, shouldering past people as he struggled to keep up with the woman; he had to find Korra, everyone. This Greeter had urged him through so many corridors, past so many rooms. The training area was the only thing that seemed familiar to him. What was going on? Purpose and history, it had all been mashed together like cold morning gruel. Mako was almost positive he'd need to hear all of that a second time around at least.

Speaking of which... ]

Hey, look-- [ The Greeter's suddenly disappeared on him, her voice fading off beneath the sounds of the marketplace. He spins around to look around for where she'd gone off to only to find himself standing in the rain. ] This can't be happening. [ Mako sighs, shoulders dropping in resignation. He takes a look around at the various booths and the other Transports, the natives bundled down. No one looks familiar, there's no Asami, no Bolin, no nobody. Korra, Tenzin and his family, Korra's family.

Hunching his shoulders against the chill that seems to permeate through the extra warmth of his core temperature and settle in his bones, Mako pulls his scarf up as he ducks his head to press his chin and mouth into it, moving towards the coverings for shelter.

Where is he supposed to go from here? It doesn't seem plausible that any one of his friends or family will be here. Not in a place like this. All he has is a pouch of money, a strange looking device, and a slip of paper with instructions on how to reach his new living quarters. ]

[Every cell in Sam's body is on edge; he's tried to take it all in but impossible amounts of information have been dumped on him all at once and he struggles to make sense of it all. He's been taken. But they gave him a gun. But he's just one person, what the hell can he do against all these people with just himself and a gun? Dean. He has to find Dean, first of all. And then the library, there was a library back there. A library he can use.

He looks around him; he seems to be surrounded by confusion. This isn't gonna work, he needs to think, he needs quiet. He walks around, trying to find someplace dry and secluded to take out his cell phone and check out that tablet. They said everyone here's got one - if Dean didn't smash his against the wall it might be his best chance of finding his brother.]

Jr. wasn't too happy about this abducted-from-his-own-universe thing, but seeing all those antique guns the Initiative had was, he had to admit, pretty damn cool. And there was all kinds of stuff available in the shops, which frankly, he'd probably need some of if he was going to be here long. Too bad a lot of stuff was displayed at the eye level of people a little taller than he was.

At least the people here seemed friendly, and Gaignun could take care of the Foundation. And of course Mary and Shelley could be trusted with the Durandal ~~because they would not use it to ram into things~~.

"Yo," he said, raising a hand in greeting as he approached someone who wasn't selling anything. They were more likely to be from outside... uh, Exsilium, right? That's what this place was called. "You been here long?"

[Pippin is already spending his coins at a food stall, picking up a lumpy pastry pie and thanking the seller with a grin. Then he covers his head with the hood of his cloak and heads back out into the marketplace, taking in all the sights and smells as he eats and tries not to get in anyone's way.

What a strange place. He hopes he can learn his way about. It was easier in Minas Tirith when he had a guide, but he supposes he'll just have to depend on himself.]

[Sheena is dressed for practicality-- for the most part. These clothes are what she journeyed in, and they allow her some degree of flexibility while also signifying what village she's from. She has no reason to replace them. Even so, curiosity leads her to the corner of the bazaar where all sorts of handmade clothes draw her attention. And funny hats. She's never seen hats like that before.

The marketplace is a welcome distraction from the dose of reality she received earlier. She's not sure what to make of it. She's not sure how to feel. Right now, she's faintly stunned, not much more than numb. At some point it will sink in that she's been kidnapped worlds away from home and she has absolutely no one here but herself...

At some point, she's wandered to a food stand. She picks up an apple and examines it.]

Hey, Corrine—

[It was reflex-- instinct, really-- but now she feels utterly stupid. Corrine's been gone for months. She just...

Sheena puts the apple back down.]

[This is impossible.

Kaworu wanders out into the marketplace, but he is wholly uninterested in anything being sold. It's mystifying that he is even here. It's impossible... Shinji-kun killed him like he asked. He was supposed to be free now, but here he is, contained by yet another secretive organization feeding him a slew of explanations. And what's worse, he is completely alone. There's no pull at all. Neither Adam nor any other angels are here, not even Lilith. The last thing he remembers is joy as he was finally allowed to die. But his freedom didn't come, and now he's alone for the first time in his life.

He finds a spot mostly protected by the rain and leans against the cold wall, staring down at the netbook and bag of coins that were handed to him.]

[This definitely isn't Sugar Rush. The sky is gray, the buildings are made out of... well... not food that's for sure (he'd even taste tested), and well... the art style and graphics of this game are far more photorealistic. That intro cutscene was a little long for an arcade game too now that he thought about it. But that wasn't really important to Ralph at the moment. He'd obviously entered the wrong game, a new game maybe? He'd have to poke around later, he had plans with Vanellope and he had to get this giant Pac-Man pretzel to her before it-]

Wait, where's the pretzel? Aww Geez... the Surge Protector must've confiscated it. It's gonna take me a week to get another one!

[He slumps a bit in defeat as he watches the other newbies disperse around him. Suddenly he's left standing alone in the courtyard, feeling small and lost, despite his large stature. The rain hits his face, and he flinches a bit, unaccustomed to such advanced simulations in the other games he's visited. He looks around, hoping to find the way he came in so he can attempt to leave and finish up his plans before the work day starts. Unfortunately, he can't find the exit... He sighs heavily and starts to ask around, hoping one of these NPCs will know the way out.]

'Scuse me, I uh- Hey, could you tell me what game this is? Does you know how I can get back to...

[Anxiousness starts to take in as he's unable to get any helpful answers, finally he cups his giant hands around his mouth as a makeshift megaphone and calls into the marketplace.]

Does ANYONE know how to get back to Game Central from here?!

[ Ehhhh, though he tried his best to actually pay attention, all he could notice was... This other person walking beside him ever since he looked some thing up on the internet back at home. With a cheeky smile, the cocks his head towards him and continues to talk about how lucky he was. Nearly escaping Skeletons and into this strange, deranged place, he was at least safe from being specifically targeted.

This guy had black hair and metallic marble eyes, but they were always half-lidded while the smile continues to sneer.

"Instead of having to deal with the cult, you get to screw around in banged down Britain, huh?"

It was better to ignore, but it was already the end of the tour and he almost didn't retain anything from that guy's senseless babbling about how he has lived through these many world phases. Usually, he would brush it off with a calm expression, but he looks quite frustrated. Whatever the Greeter said must have been important yet all he caught was some of the history and something about housing.

The rest was drowned out easily by how this world looks very similar to his in a different world phase. He really didn't need this and was willing to ask until--

"Wow, Sidel, you really don't pay attention, huh." He said as he leans against the wall on the other side. "Even I got everything!" ]

Maybe I would have had at least one clue if you would shut your mouth. [ He usually doesn't retaliate much to being patronized himself, but this was a big deal. The snappy hiss may or may not be thrown at your direction because that's where he is. He just wanted to find a raincoat in peace!

He should really pick one rather than stay here drenched, but all of the ones he has found look hideous. ]

---
ooc: red text are hallucinations! If you want him to hallucinate something, go ahead.

[ Saber jingles the marques within hand and snorts, glancing around. ] A paltry sum, though given the setting, understandable. Hm, they would do more to try and decorate the place. These ruins are tire me just by gazing upon them.

[ She stows her marques and holds up her tablet. She's going to have to make an announcement soon. She needs to find out whether or not her Master truly came with her... but since she doesn't feel her presence, Saber finds it'd be a frustrating and nearly futile search. She looks at her current area that could only be superficially called a marketplace - nothing like the forums of Rome.

But back to her current predicament... with no Master, she could already feel the change to her powers. She feels weakened, but not overly so. Maintaining a physical form isn't as taxing as she thought, but even so, Saber's gonna have to be cautious. This is not the Moon Cell, but perhaps she can still...

Flash! Saber goes into spirit form, disappearing from sight... then reappearing back onto the spot a moment later. Well, that's a slight glimmer of hope in this deplorable situation. Time to gain information on this land and its inhabitants, both native and foreign. ]

The first thing she did when she felt the power drawing her to where she now was, was pull in the wings; the second was change her clothes into something that fit in a bit. As she landed, she looked, except for her hair, quite human.

When the weapons were discussed, she tried not to smirk - she didn't need a weapon - but .... hm. These glasses. They seemed interesting. And when she put them on, they fit her face perfectly. And she could... ooh, so many different things that somehow seemed to be clearer.

Taking her directions and room assignment, she slipped the card into a breast pocket, held the computer carefully, and stepped out, looking around to see what was going on before trying to find her way to wherever she had to go.

She takes a moment, though, to pull in her aura, trying to hide her nature... although it may not work terribly well.

[Sesshoumaru, not one for crowds, can be found standing apart from the other Transports, ignoring the weather and trying to put the information that prattling human had given him into terms he can understand. Several times she had come close to meeting her end at the demon's hand; her only saving graces the knowledge she held and the probability her death would have resulted in his staying here permanently.

Wherever "here" actually is...

Feeling the press of his new weapon against his side, he pushes those disquieting thoughts aside as he draws the blade and studies the workmanship. Secretly impressed with the blade, he goes one step further and easily lifts it above his head to test the weight and balance with one swing.]

Edited 2013-01-06 09:33 (UTC)

Absolute disgust locked itself on Gilgamesh's face. He regarded the crown he was given irritably before finally putting it on--knowing for a fact that he was attracted to such garish things. It was only a basic circlet and nothing too fancy, but it did have a ring which could be removed from it--which he quickly did. Sliding the ring on his left ring finger, Gilgamesh's armor began to slowly shimmer away in the middle of the armory before being converted into a rather garish looking attire.

He wore a v-neck sweater with an ostentatious gold necklace, coupled with pants which resembled a snake-skin pattern. His shoes were closer to loafers than anything else and the gold bracers he wore complimented the gold ring he slipped on his finger. Despite how expensively he seemed to be dressed, Gilgamesh looked nothing short of angry.

His anger was palpable--literally sucking the warmth out of the room and as he left, it sucked out what little warmth was in the air outside. Regarding the sky with disgust, Gilgamesh trudged on to discern where on Earth he was before glancing into the tablet he was offered--accidentally making a post and essentially irritating himself with the responses he received.

[ Good thing he still has his umbrella luckily, huh?

The Greeter leaves, and Yashiro doesn't bother to move from his spot. He peeks up at the dreary sky from under his umbrella, a pensive look on his face.

"Too much information" might be an understatement. Everything that's happened in the past day has just been one blow after another - he thought dealing with the scary people chasing him was enough, but apparently not. Now he's... being recruited to fight? He can't even do that, though! Why not ask one of the people trying to kill him instead!?

In his first moment alone with his thoughts, all he can do is look down and give himself a wry smile. ]

...What am I doing?

Kuroh tries to call back to the Greeter through the crowds, because woman, he still doesn't know what's going on, don't just disappear on him like that, but it's too late--she's gone.

Well, there's still no shortage of other people to question, and question he will, because forget the kidnapping situation for a moment: he has a couple people to find.

So, one could approach this youth doing a couple of things: going around and demanding answers from the people running the various booths, who merely try to sell him their goods, for the most part. Or off to the side some time later, taking shelter from the rain and going through his new tablet device with a stern expression. He frequently scans the crowds, and always seems disappointed the faces he sees are unfamiliar.

Otherwise, he starts approaching fellow Transports himself. It's fairly easy to tell from their demeanors who is new like him and who is not, but that's really not relevant to his question: "Excuse me." While ensuring he has their attention, he maintains a respectful distance. "I am looking for someone. If you've seen them, I'd be grateful if you could help me."

[ At first, Fëanor is fascinated - a new world, a new place where everything is different and there are no Valar to teach them (or command them). But then, the more he hears about the United Earth - and the more he hears about the Initiative and how has been drafted without so much as a by your leave - the angrier he gets. As much as the description of the United Earth sets his teeth on edge, he is no one's pawn to be carted off and flung through time to do someone else's work!

But the Greeter doesn't respond to fury, and Fëanor quickly surmises that no amount of vitriol will get him what he wants, and so he goes quiet, listening and taking it in, exercising what little self-control he has if only so that he doesn't have to ask more questions later.

And then, he's deposited in the market, and all he can do is simply stew, glowering at the crowd of strange people and strange beings. There is too much to take in, and the curiosity and fascination and eagerness to explore slowly win out over his bitterness at having been dragged here for a purpose he did not choose.

And so, after a time he is to be found pacing about the market place and peering into the stalls. If there is a material being sold he is unfamiliar with, he badgers the poor shopkeepers with questions. What is it made of? What are it's properties? Where it is mined or what is it distilled from?

But he doesn't buy anything - not yet, anyway. He needs a place to work first, and so later on, when he's completed a circuit of the shops, he seeks a clear spot, heedless of the rain (what is a bit of chill and damp to an immortal elf, after all?), and begins to study his changed hammer, talking to himself as he inspects it for changes. ]

But what did they do to it...?

[ After all's said and done, Vanille was itching to get out of the hold. It felt suffocating in there, with all the information and confused auras flying off of the metallic walls, and her eyes were beginning to cross from sheer atmosphere. Once she got out, she stretched, inhaling the fresh air.. well, she expected an intake of fresh air. The air here was choked, worse than even the worst parts of Cocoon. It was then that she began to really miss being on Pulse.

At least it was raining. Vanille ran out in to the vast marketplace twirling and skipping a bit to let the droplets hit her bare shoulders. She took solace in the fact that, no matter where she went, there would be a sky, and that sky would always cry from time to time. It was weird, how she began to rely on that fact in times like these. ]

Oh! [ It was then she realized her tablet had fallen from her pockets. She scrambles to the floor, then jogs over to an awning, wiping it off and inspecting it with a quizzical look. ] Oh no.. Is it still okay? Um, how does this thingy cut on anyway? Ahhhh.. hm! [ Her fingers explore the device until it lands on a button. She presses it, and the tablet lights up briefly before cutting off again. She makes an excited, suspenseful sound, but huffs in disappointment when it cuts back off. ] I didn't break it, did I?

[The boy doesn't seem too impressed with the situation at all. No, not when he and his partner, Tsuzuki, had just been recovering from the aftermaths of Kyoto. He didn't have anything to do with this war at all, none of these new arrivals did. They never asked for this, and surely others were just as confused and frustrated and angry at the situation. He didn't have time for this. He had to get back to Tsuzuki.

But just as his frustration was coming to build, he heard the Greeter's voice and listened, following a little behind the rest of the crowd and wondering how long this tour was going to take. He wasn't sure he could endure more than an hour of this, being surrounded by so many people with such strong emotions at being brought here.

He took note of the library, and paused at the courtyard, wondering where to go from here. He leans against a wall out of the way for a moment, watching everyone, trying to figure out if there was a way to see who else had arrived, if there was anyone else from home here or not. It seemed like there were people from all sorts of different places and time periods, from what he could gather, and if he showed up here it might be possible others from home had as well. But then, would he really want any of them involved in this? Tsuzuki certainly didn't seem like the soldier type, after all, and this was, apparently a war. He was capable of defending himself, Hisoka knew that, but at the same time, it pained both of them to see others suffer, to kill or hurt someone. Just because they were powerful that did not mean they wanted to use their powers like this.

Which led him to consider the 'weapon' he had been granted. His empathy. Sure, he had lashed out with it before, but it was never really intentional, and he didn't know how he felt about using it in such an offensive way in battle. He couldn't help thinking back to Tsubaki-hime, how upset he had been at killing her. If he felt that bad about killing her when she was already injured, how would be manage in this sort of situation? He shakes his head, deciding to approach one of the people and see if they might answer some questions.]

Excuse me?

Edited 2013-01-06 22:21 (UTC)

[This was all so much. Tsuzuki held his spell paper tightly, hiding his hands in his pockets. The weapon room had hid so many different weapons, all so grand and intimidating. His own spells had seemed so small and harmless in comparison. But they were his, and he'd rather have a shield for Hisoka than a sword they could both get hurt by. Knowing himself, he didn't trust himself to carry a weapon.

Where was Hisoka, anyway? He lifted his gaze enough that the rain hit him in the face. It was cold and strange here: He knew the little empath wouldn't like it. He frowned with concern, walking briskly towards the nearest door. Someone had mentioned rooms. He needed to investigate that. Maybe he should have been more careful, because he almost walked straight into another person.]

Sorry!

Threaded | Flat

Page 1 of 2

no subject

[for Utena]

[Open]

open!