( open ) i'll fly you to the moon and back

[initiates]

Date & Time: September 21st - September 30th, 11:59 PM
Location: The Hold, the Moon Base
Characters: Any/all.
Summary: The Transports are evacuating to the Moon Base. Those on the Moon Base try to settle in and figure out their next move. Setting info can be found here.
Warnings: Talk of nuclear warheads and reference to immense loss of life. Please contact the mods should any individual thread get graphically violent or anything else of the sort.
Note: Use date and location tags in your subject headlines! Such as "On the moon, 23rd onward" or "On the spaceship, 25th" or "down at the Hold, 29th."

The Hold is a flurry of activity, grim faced members of the Initiative group directing supplies and people with the subdued air of people facing their own doom, and wondering at how to process the knowledge. None of the Initiative appears unaware of what will happen; their eyes linger on the Transports, expressions pleading, hopeful, doubtful, or immeasurably sad in turn.

Every eight hours, the space ship is sent back up with a load of people and supplies. The pilots are worked until they can't; the AI stolen ages ago by the Initiative greets and corrals people and supplies at both ends, and in the middle step between.

The network continues to broadcast on narrow channels between the Moon Base and Exsilium, up until the time that all connections are lost, with the carrier located en route to Exsilium. The first airship will pass by without dropping anything, but it's too early to celebrate. At a six hour delay from behind, the second airship arrives, and with it, the dark promise of the Black Code's nuclear weaponry.

The six hour window allows for time for those left behind, either by choice or circumstance, to be pulled to the Moon Base with the successful activation of the Transport Pad. New characters will ultimately arrive with the remainder of those not yet on the Moon Base, all in time to witness the explosive contact of the nuclear warhead with the ground of Exsilium live on satellite.

But until then, there's only the hurry, the silence, and the potential for full out rioting should the Transports spread word to the Exiles inevitably left behind to face this fate.

Comments

30th

[bumbles]

( His sisters were named for Titans. Asteria of the falling stars, Selene of the moon. Phoebe is simply bright, light and brilliance. To stand here feels wrong for so many reasons, the same reasons that are dragging across so many people, fingers scrabbling to gather up rotting fruit, so that there are hands slipping through your skin and tearing you apart as they try to save you.

Donny's wearing Atlas. He hasn't found Max yet - he needs to, and in the same way, facing her feels like it'll make the finality of this real. When he sees Max he has to accept they didn't have a better solution to this.

He still has his bag hanging off his shoulder as he comes to stand besides Addie. He's Donny pretending to be Atlas, standing taller and bearing up all the weight. )

[bloodbiter]

[It takes a good few moments before she notices him, and once she does she scolds herself for the obliviousness. She glances up towards the unfamiliar boy, debating on whether or not to say something. She can't be sure he wants company. It takes a few moments before she speaks up.]

How do you find them?

[The stars.]

[bumbles]

They-- m-must see a lot.

( Softly, and for now he can't even find it to berate himself for speaking under Atlas' mask, for the way his words tangle over his tongue. )

I, um. W-wondered way they'd say.

( Scold, support, reason, sympathise. Punish? Reward? Philosophise? But then, apparently by the time a human being can see a stare, it is dead already. )

[bloodbiter]

[She looks towards them, then towards him, then towards the ground.]

They cannot speak or see anything. They are but stars.

[They're wondrous, that's true; still, she's not feeling incredibly imaginative or spiritual after so much tragedy. A pause.]

They are beautiful, though.

[bumbles]

( It feels like a blow to the chest; his jaw tightens, and he keeps his gaze on them, like they might save them, offer up some answer. )

It'd b-be-- be nice if they were uh, w-were something more.

( Ella said she was God, or would be, though, and he didn't imagine her to have any answers. Stars seemed simpler. At least he can agree they're beautiful. )

D-do uh, do you know about-- c-constellations?

[bloodbiter]

[She pauses, thinking about that. Even if they were something more, she thinks, they would still be so far away. Out of reach. Still, perhaps it would be comforting to have a silent sympathizer floating somewhere out there rather than globes of light indifferent to their suffering.]

I suppose it would be nice, yes. What would you ask of them?

[She shakes her head.]

I do not.

[bumbles]

I d-don't-- don't know. ( A soft admission, smiling faintly as he watches. ) I d-don't-- I think it'd b-be better to j-just listen. Not um, t-try to c-coax them to say something specific. Whatever they thought w-was uh, important to say.

( He's an artist, okay, he says weird stuff. )

There's uh, a b-bunch. Some um, are used for astrology and-- yep. Like p-predicting your future and stuff.

[bloodbiter]

[His thoughts on the stars are interesting; however, the description of astrology catches her attention more.]

You can predict your future using the stars? Is that reliable?

[bumbles]

( His smile widens just briefly, before it fades again. )

Um, that-- d-depends who you uh, t-talk to. Some p-people say it's just, uh. L-like you look for stuff to um, to m-match your horoscope, and stuff? B-but--

( Atlas pauses, and shrugs, glancing towards her. ) I think it's k-kinda interesting. That's j-just-- m-my world, though.

[bloodbiter]

What is a horoscope? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the term.

[bumbles]

It's um. It's-- like a p-prediction? B-based um, based on w-what sign you were uh, b-born under, p-people write p-predictions and stuff. Horoscopes say stuff l-like-- stuff like what successes you'll have b-but-- but really vague.

( Shrugging, scoffing at himself because this is so silly, so childish. ) It's, um. K-kinda-- silly. For fun, I g-guess.

( Quieter, because it seems so especially stupid right now. )