exsiliumlogs | (no subject)

Date: February 1st
Location: The Initiative Hold & Courtyard.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports have all arrived and have been shuffled into the Courtyard after their initial briefings, while older Transports are returning from the mission to Uruguay.
Warnings: None.

While those who have been guests of Exsilium since at least the last wave of Transports return from their desperate mission and are pressed out of the Transporter room and into the Courtyard, the Initiative prepares to receive a second wave at the same time. And if you're in that second wave, the fresh meat, then 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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It's become something of a habit of Galadriel's to linger around the hold when the new transports arrive. It's always interesting and often productive- she's rarely been disappointed.

She's standing in the market place, a cloak pulled over her head, mostly just watching people come and go, when she spots a familiar figure. She steps forward, calling to him and trusting her voice to carry above the crowd.]

Gi suilon, Legolas.

[it does carry, and even had he never heard her voice before he could not think it anything but an elven one.

whether it is the crowd that parts or he that moves between the gaps, the distance between them is quickly covered, and he lowers his head in a gesture of respect.]

Hail, my Lady. A star may not shine, but my heart is gladdened nonetheless. Would that we had met again under better circumstances.

[She gives a little nod in return]

The circumstances may not be as we would have them, but I am glad for this meeting also. [She gestures back toward the street.] Shall we walk as we speak? There is much to say and I would not halt your explorations.

Aye, of course. Though I think I would have chance enough to explore at a later time. We need not hasten.

[nevertheless, he will start walking in that direction with the slighest of indications.]

[She's glad to walk anyway. She's never been one to sit still; the movement helps her think.]

It may seem a queer question, but I trust you will soon see its necessity, if you do not already. How long has it been since you left my woods?

Nay, it is not queer at all. Two fortnights, perhaps, a month, for our realm.

[his gaze drops, quietly calculating and with a tinge of sadness-]

..But I would add another ten months, a year even, for the time it has been since I last laid eyes on our Middle-Earth.

[Curiosity and concern are both evident on her face.]

Then you are one of those who has been taken from elsewhere. I have spoken to others, but rarely so.

It seems an uncommon occurence, but, yes. I was taken from a ship that sailed the stars, where I saw Aragorn, for a time, and Frodo for much more.

[..and thranduil. but that's a thought he won't voice. it's a painful thing to admit, that he has left his father behind there.]

A ship that sailed the stars? Shall we call you Eärendil now? [A little lighthearted teasing to distract him. Whether or not he voices the reasons, there's something softly sad about him. It's to be expected, she supposes, after so long from home.]

[for a moment he's confused, frowning ever so slightly. but once he realizes what he's just said, it does distract him enough to flicker a grin across his face momentarily.]

Aye, we shall. It would, if it was at all like that of Eärendil. But it had no sails, and held many, many people and creatures.. And a sizeable forest of its own.

[he's starting to miss those trees now, silent and uncooperative as they were.]

A forest! [The exclamation is made in surprise, but her tone swiftly turns nostalgic.] It has been far too long since I have wandered through a forest.

Aye, a forest. [he laughs, briefly and softly.] I was surprised to see it as well, when I first came upon it. It is different from any that I know of Middle-Earth.. I cannot discern their voices, if any they have. And there are only insects, and what creatures are brought from other worlds. Sometimes I think it is too quiet.

[it's.. saddening. he's never been so isolated from the sounds of nature for so long, or even from nature itself. and now he is stuck again in a city, an island, on which there is little green life to be found and the lands toxic.]

..But they were trees nonetheless, and more pleasing to behold than the rest of the ship. It is sad, truly, that there is little of such things here.