here they talked of revolution, here it was they lit the flame

[initiates]

Date: October 1st
Location: The Observatory.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports arrive and are shuffled into the Observatory for the show of the year. Initial briefings are very brief this time around, and that Greeter just won't stop crying.
Warnings: new confused people and old sad people??

Your arrival here has been very unceremonious. One second you were somewhere else, and now, very suddenly, your feet hit the glowing white of the Transporter pad, and you're here. You aren't alone, either. There's a crowd of others around you, each seeming just as bewildered, angry, or confused as you might feel. At the head of the group is a woman in purple robes, with eyes red as if she'd just finished crying. She hurries over a quick overview of your intended purpose here, and gives direct answers when asked for them, but to most things she simply shows you how to access the tablet you've just been given. There, you can find the history of this place and a record of what your new cohorts have experienced — although it won't have Network access for another 8 hours. Someone stands on hand to give you a weapon, and though the armory is now greatly reduced, you should be able to find something to suit you.

You're shepherded down a walkway tunnel and into the Observatory, where you will find screens mounted on three sides of the wide room. The only lighting comes from dull red emergency lights, and the scenes of a dreary, rainy city from various cameras up on the screens; the largest of the screens opens up to a view of Earth from a good distance away -- this one isn't a screen at all, you might realize, but a window. As you watch, all screens in the room fill with light, impossibly bright. It consumes the buildings, the people, everything. There is no sound played, perhaps mercifully, only that white light -- and then nothing.

Through the large window, there's a pinprick of light over one of the landmasses on the blue planet. It grows to a tiny blossom and then dies away, but a cloud begins to mushroom outward in the same spot. It pushes the natural clouds out of the way, claiming that small portion of the world and wrapping it in a uniform gray.

Strings of numbers begin to fill the blanked out screens as the base's AI begins collecting data and calculations, but the show seems to be over. You're free to explore the base, visit and use any of the VR rooms, or discover your new room and roommates, but try not to step out of any airlocks if oxygen is a requirement for your system.

Welcome to the moon base, with front row seats to the grave of Exsilium.

[[ooc; reminder! The Network will be down for 8 hours after the wave of new Transports.]]

Comments

[skennen]

I will heal.

[An answer that's always been easy to give.

Though it usually doesn't have an unspoken 'the Exiles won't' tacked onto it.

He follows her lead. It's right, proper.]

Are you all right?

[hyanaimne]

I am fine. [it comes almost angrily, before she forces herself to calm down. She should have been down there, with him and the Exiles. Damned Initiative.

She offers him a hand]

Come, let me at least look at your wounds to make sure it is nothing serious.

[skennen]

[He wants to shake his head, say no, tell her that won't be necessary, and then keep walking. To where, he doesn't know, but he's sure if he can just continue to move, he can put off thinking a while longer.

Instead, he finds himself nodding once. He doesn't take her hand, but he does turn around to face her. Absently, he hooks his tomahawk back into the belts on his coat.

He's too tired to fight or otherwise resist - although he suspects he could muster some energy were an Initiative member to cross his path right about now.]

[hyanaimne]

[she keeps her hand out, frowning. He looks like he's going to fall over, the least she can do is offer some support]

I've supplies in my room. [the frown deepens] My magic does not work right up here, or else I would do it here and now.

[skennen]

[He tries to pretend he doesn't see that hand stuck out at him, but she doesn't take it back and he's finally forced to acknowledge it.

Which he does by grasping her proffered hand quickly and giving it a polite shake. He removes his hand from hers immediately afterward.]

Lead the way.

[hyanaimne]

[Men. But she leaves at that with a nod and a slightly annoyed look, before turning to lead Connor to where her room is]

[skennen]

[He wanders after her, a touch sheepish under the exhaustion and the shock and the pain and the anger.]

What do your supplies consist of?

[hyanaimne]

Bandages and medicine. Whatever I had on me at the time I was forced up here.

[skennen]

[That puts him a bit more at ease. What kind of supplies he thought a user of magic might rely on when their magic isn't 'working right', he wouldn't be able to say, but bandages and medicine he knows.]

I see.

[hyanaimne]

[she glances over her shoulder at him, eyebrow raised]

When I told you I was a healer, I did not mean to imply that it was only magic I was capable of.

[skennen]

[Both his eyebrows draw up in response, though a certain wariness accompanies his confusion.]

I... do not understand. What other magic do you... practice?

[hyanaimne]

Ah, perhaps I should have worded it better . . . ?

I am trained in traditional healing. No magic. A . . . physician, of sorts?

[skennen]

[Understanding drags a sigh of relief out of him. The smallest hint of a smile curls the edge of his mouth, but it's half a grimace and it doesn't quite reach his eyes.]

A doctor. Or yes, a healer. A traditional healer.

[hyanaimne]

[she smiles a bit back, relieved herself. She'd hate to have to chase him down and force him into letting her care for him. That would just be embarrassing]

Mm, exactly.

[skennen]

[He might not have run but he definitely would have been watching her that much closer throughout the entire process.]

We do not have so much magic where I am from and what magic we do have is... different, I think.

[hyanaimne]

[she slows her steps so he's walking next to her. Much better to converse that way]

My world is full of all sorts, some of which, as skilled as I am, I cannot even hope to ever cast. What do you mean by different?

[skennen]

[He appreciates the conversation, too. Even if it treads into some uncomfortable territory, he doesn't have to suffer through thoughts of the Initiative or the United Earth or those hundreds of thousands of Exiles.]

The magic I have learned about here is... It seems a natural part of people's lives. Something they grow up knowing, something they use for good. Healing magic or magic that allows plants to grow and flourish.

Where I am from, I would say magic is... I would say it is more sinister. At least, the magic that people can cast as spells is. There is an evilness to it. Or at least a wrongness to it? A wrongness that can be very dangerous.

[And don't even get him started on the magic artifacts that are said to be able to control people's minds.]

[hyanaimne]

[she listens, probably the most intent he's seen her yet. Learning about magic - any magic - was always of interest of her. And well, the distraction from everything was nice. Very nice]

There is magic like that where I am from; even the magic I am capable of can be used in that way. It is how the world is - anything that can be used for good, can be used for bad.

[skennen]

[He glances over at her, but his closed expression suggests he's not convinced.]

Do you believe the opposite can be said, as well? Anything that is used for evil can also be used for good?

[hyanaimne]

Of course. [there's no hesitation]

[skennen]

[His answer is one noncommittal grunt and a slight, unsteady sway on his next step. Eloquent.]

[hyanaimne]

[sigh. As they reach her room, she reaches out to stop him before he can go further, and opens the door]

Come on, let us patch you up.

[skennen]

[He nods a little, waiting to follow her in and then taking a cursory look around her room.]

Is healing your profession where you are from?

[hyanaimne]

[Tempest gestures for him to take a seat, then heads over to her things, picking up her cloak. She reaches inside it, to the hidden pockets there, looking for her supplies, though she pauses at the question and looks at him]

Healing? Ah - no. I was a mercenary.

[skennen]

[Connor removes his bow and empty quiver and props them up in the corner of the room before sitting down.

Her reply brings his attention back to her and he eyes her for a moment, his gaze more appraising. Eventually, he nods again.]

Fighting for pay.