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[initiates]

Date & Time: Evening, 10th February 3312
Location: Transport Room
Characters: Open To All
Summary: Everyone is brought into the transport room at roughly the same time, in a great succession and flow of imported individuals. Everyone is being lead around in small bundles, or left to their own devices together inside the Initiative Hold.
Warnings: None.

Widespread and crowded, everyone is being transported into this unusually bright room with an efficiency that is almost horrifying. One after the other, new people are appearing -- being led, shown around and then ultimately abandoned with one final phrase; "Good luck."

The Initiative Hold is wide, like a small town in its depth and industry. You've received your weapon; you've got your keys, your netbook, and one of those robed strangers has shoved a small pouch full of what you can only assume is money into your open palm. You've been given an apartment, but where on earth -- are we on earth? -- is it? Your best opportunity right now is to mingle; at least, that's what everyone else appears to be doing. Those strangers in the robes have left. They're tending to the people who are arriving, one by one and in a quick procession. Energy bustles all around you, as you're strapped up with your sudden gifts and looking around.

Hey, maybe you'll even see some familiar faces.

Comments

[flightlessbird]

[ Well, there's at least one excited party here. Artika looks pretty much thrilled to be here, all cheerful smiles and wide, dark eyes. In fact, most of her eyes are dark, just the very corners being white, and only when she's especially wide-eyed impressed by something. She's also pretty naked, with just a flap of a bright orange loincloth in the way of clothing. She's also not much of a show, being mostly bone and muscle, with no chest to speak of.

But she's perfectly willing to head over and accost anyone that catches her eye-- and many things do. Bright colors. No colors. Very tall people. Very short people. Blonde people! Redheads. Ohh, brunettes are interesting. And who can forget the black-haired people, like her? They're all terribly interesting, and Artika is happy to abandon everything she'd been handed in favor of better observation. ]

[stonefaith]

[ Bariyan casts his eyes over the room, sees nothing, goes for a seco-- wait, hold on. The orange stands out. Also, the fact that she-- she? is it a girl? Bariyan can't tell from this distance and remedies that by carefully navigating his way towards her.

All right, probably a girl. ]

Are you cold?

[ That's about as tactful as Bariyan can manage right now. He frowns down at her. ]

[flightlessbird]

[ Artika, meanwhile, is all too happy to completely disregard that frown and peer up intently at Bariyan. She hasn't seen many humans as dark as she is! That's interesting. And black hair, too! That's appreciated. She finally seems to notice that he's said something, and blinks a little comprehension onto the scene. ]

Yes. [ It is a little chilly around here, she's just now noticing. ] And if you are hot, then I could help with that. [ that with a pointed little glance down at his outerwear. Surely he doesn't need that much cloth. Surely. ]

[stonefaith]

[ Her voice, her accent, her-- it catches Bariyan off guard. And that throws him off, enough that he almost slides straight into defensive mode before he catches himself. He looks down, and tugs at the collar of his shirt. ]

Here.

[ He looks around, hopes that no one is paying attention, and shrugs out of his shirt to hand it over to the girl. He pauses briefly in the process because he's forgotten that, neck aside, his torso is peppered in old stab wounds. Bariyan grimaces down at himself. Oh well. Too late now. ]

Can't have my pants though, sorry 'bout that. But we could probably get you some more clothes somewhere around here. [ Bariyan clicks his teeth together and pats his pockets, feeling for the money that they'd handed over earlier. If there's money, then there's shops, right? ]

[flightlessbird]

[ Oh. Well. That's an awful lot of scars this guy has. She eyes them as she pulls on the shirt, and as soon as she's done and with no sense whatsoever of personal boundaries, Artika promptly leans in for a closer look. She doesn't outright prod at them, but only because she can't imagine they would feel like much of anything, and there's no use in it. ]

Are you a mercenary? [ She glances up only to deliver the question, and then she's right back to her study— and she's not limiting it to the front, but looping around him for a full once-over. ] You have more wounds than Pyran, though! Maybe that means you are a mercenary that is not very good at fighting.

[stonefaith]

[ Bariyan immediately leans back when Artika comes close, then grimaces and puts up with the impromptu 360-degree inspection. The set of his shoulders stiffens and he shifts his weight from foot to foot, awkwardly. ]

Nah. I used to be. Not anymore.

[ Bariyan fidgets, then breaks. He turns to face Artika and crosses his arms over his chest. The action hides the bulk of his injuries. ]

May I ask you something? [ He does pause, but not long enough for an answer. ] What are you?

[ He is examining Artika's ears, markings, and feathers with mild interest. Actually, possibly a little more than mild interest -- he looks like he is just one step away from reaching out and tugging at both of her ears. ]

[flightlessbird]

[ It's right about then that Artika decides she likes him. He used to be a mercenary. Aforementioned Pyran is a mercenary. What more could she need? And as if that weren't enough, he'd surrendered some property to her. That makes him pretty okay in her books. She straightens happily from her exam when he turns to face her, hands behind her back and smile bright.

She opens her mouth to answer, and-- that's not a word. That's totally not a word, just a weird, whistling birdcall. But she whistles it very definitively, at least. A second later, she adds: ] But you are human, and your voice doesn't work right, and so you probably can't say that. So you can say "Avian" instead. The humans named us that.

[costumechanger]

[Zoë's fairly upbeat herself - finding out more about the situation they'd been dropped in could happen later, right now she was more interested in meeting some of the people she'd be working with. Artika catches her eye because she was clearly non-human, though not of any species Zoë recognized. So she makes her way over to the girl, a smile on her face.]

Hello. What world are you from?

[flightlessbird]

[ Oh, wow, that's some seriously brightly colored hair. ...Well, for a human. Artika spends a couple of seconds peering intently before finally dropping her gaze to Zoë's face instead. ]

My own. [ Like it's just totally obvious. ] Your hair is nice. Who are you?

[costumechanger]

[Her hair's floating on its own, too, making it even more a spectacle to watch.]

Thanks. My name's Zoë. What's yours? And does your planet have a name? The one I was born on is named Aleph.

[flightlessbird]

Artika! [ Not really her name, but Zoë wouldn't be able to say the right one anyway, so it's good enough. The next question gets only a curious look, though. ] Planet -- I don't know that word yet. What is it?

[costumechanger]

It's nice to meet you, Artika. And 'planet' is the same as 'world' when 'world' is used to mean a large body in a stable orbit around a star.

[flightlessbird]

[ Well, she at least recognizes the word "star". That's a start, right? She considers it anyway though, before deciding, decisively: ] Then I am not from a planet.

[garwithnobrakes]

[Here, have a lettucehead green hair for your perusal. Being a teenage boy, Gareas would whistle at the view -- if there were any kind of view to be had, that is. Besides that, her eyes, general appearance and the accosting thing is kind of wigging him out a little.

All told, the welcome is rather less friendly than it could have been.]

Did you want something or what? I haven't got any extra clothes.

[flightlessbird]

[ Green hair! On a human! How odd. Maybe they're a little more like her own birdy friends than she'd thought? She doesn't answer him right away, too busy seeing how many angles she can get for this intense peering going on.

Eventually, and from a lean far to his left: ] I don't want your clothes, they are not pretty. What is your name?

[garwithnobrakes]

[In a world where humans with pink and blue hair tend to happen on top of the regular hair colors... Well, let's just say he's not an oddity and isn't really pleased about feeling like one -- even though the girl's appearance and behavior alone kind of explains it.

Really, though, does she live in a... man, they used to live in caves, didn't they? But wait. Even if she's a cave-dweller--]

What do you mean, they're not-- They're perfectly good clothes! It's a uniform, all right? [No, he doesn't want his clothes to be pretty, but don't diss them!]

... I'm Gareas. Garu. Would you just-- [putting out a hand to hopefully move her back a couple paces, by the forehead if necessary; personal bubbles are nice every now and then] --What are you, anyway?

[flightlessbird]

[ She has no idea what a uniform is, and doesn't much care. It's no clothing she wants. Her hands rise to wrap around his wrist at that, to bring it down for examination, but -- oh, it's like every human hand she's ever seen before, how boring. She'll just be sort of flinging that away again, carelessly. ]

I am an Avian. I am really-- [ shrill bird-whistle goes here ] But you are human and would not be able to say that, so you don't have to try. [ A pause, and she adds, a little curiously: ] You are human? Yes? You have green hair.

[garwithnobrakes]

[The fling is probably helped by the fact that he's also jerking his wrist away! He is not a scientific specimen, damn it, even if half the time the medical department loves messing with them--]

An Avian, what, like a bird-- [the whistle makes him flinch because ow, that was way too close] --birds don't have ears.

[Yes, that is what he got out of that.]

I'm not going to go around whistling at people, anyway! And of course I'm human, there's nothin' wrong with my hair!

[flightlessbird]

[ Well, now she's starting to become aware of his annoyance-- but only because it's causing some of her own. She huffs, hands falling to her hips. ]

I have ears. And I did not want you to go around whistling people, because you would do it wrong.

[noble_sin]

[Blonde people? Very quite blonde, in Loiec's case, with rather overexcited hair in general. He's got some clothes that are unusual even for this bunch, too. With the initial shock of the situation starting to wear off, he's melted a bit back into his normal curious manner.]

Ah, bonjorn?

[For all that the sudden attention surprises him, Artika's state of undress doesn't get his attention, beyond how it makes her stand out from the crowd. He might as well be a robot instead of an adolescent male.]

(permissions post over here)

[flightlessbird]

[ A word she doesn't know! Artika had been pretty shamelessly staring (the hair, she really likes the hair), but the strange word snaps her attention back to his face. ]

Bonjorn? [ It comes with the same questioning inflection, in what's really a pretty good imitation of his voice in general. ] I do not know that word, what is it?

[noble_sin]

Ehm... non intelligere.

[He's got an apologetic look, because whatever's going on with her ears is really quite fascinating, and for a moment he almost wonders if she could be one of the elves, skinned with bark instead of leaves... but there's the scent. It's not right, not at all, but it's still familiar, like a picture seen in a many-broken mirror. But he's been nothing but human for a year, with only the stink of the city and the fields on him. Would she even know?

He purses his lips, and whistles a little multilayered interrogative noise that sounds a bit like a songbird playing a harmonica.]

[flightlessbird]

[ More words she doesn't know! She's about to happily parrot them back, and hope understanding follows pronunciation, but then-- oh. Well. That is really, really, really interesting. She doesn't recognize any of the words she's familiar with in that musical string, but it's impossible not to recognize the sounds. Sounds she's never heard a human successfully manage, for that matter.

She opens her mouth and returns a strand of harmonious birdsong, long and very defintively toned, like she expects him to understand every word. There's a greeting in it, an introduction, commentary on the present situation, and finally an inquiry for his name. Because of course he'll understand all that, if he can make those noises. ]

[noble_sin]

[Nope. Not at all, though he strains to try and pick out familiar patterns, like an American tourist valiantly hoping that if he tries hard enough the local language will spontaneously turn into English.

He murmurs back a response, a little harsher-edged in the layers and with odd clicks at the back of his throat, almost dolphin-like, but it's just as incomprehensible on his side as the first exchange was.]

[flightlessbird]

[ Oh, that's a little disappointing. But! Artika doesn't look disheartened for long. Language barriers aren't exactly new for her. So instead she tips her head, smiles, and puts a hand to her chest. ]

Artika.

[ That's always pretty straight forward. ]