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]

[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.

[hyanaimne]

That is a nice way of putting it.

[she distracts herself by looking through those pockets] I am a mage, so I was often hired as protection for a group. Either that, or I would take whatever would pay for a meal and a room for the night.

[skennen]

I imagine that makes for a hard life.

[hyanaimne]

Not particularly.

[she pulls out the bandages and a small tube of ointment, then turns to him, looking him over]

Where are you wounded?

[skennen]

[He glances down at himself in turn and frowns. That's a good question she's asked. He can't tell the pain of bruises and aching muscles apart from treatable wounds; everything seems to hurt equally through the haze in his mind.

To keep silence from setting in, he picks at the subject of her work further while he searches for tears in the fabric of his robes.]

You enjoyed living day-to-day then?

[hyanaimne]

[Tempest comes over to kneel in front of him, helping to search for the worst of his wounds. Though she frowns at the question, hesitating for a long moment.

It's almost when that silence sets in that she decides to answer, and for once, with the truth]

No. I did not enjoy living at all.

[skennen]

[Connor promptly loses all interest in counting and pointing out the gashes that mark his torso and limbs.

He sits back, hands falling to rest on his thighs. It doesn't take him long to decide how to respond.]

It is not my place to ask why that is, but if you would like to tell me, I will listen.

[hyanaimne]

[Connor is the second person to say that to her - ever. No one ever asks, but they offer, and it's something that always throws Tempest off her "game". So many months into her stay here and it still surprised her that people would offer that.

She sighs out, slow, but doesn't look up, still focused on Connor's wounds]

The reason I became a mercenary was to seek revenge. A man . . my lover, I suppose, destroyed my village and those who lived there, and it is only by chance that I survived that. I was barely an adult, and he did it because of what we were - after we showed him nothing but kindness.

So I spent the rest of my life becoming what he was, so that I could hunt him down and kill him for what he did.

[skennen]

[Her explanation leaves him staring. His features are still softened by sympathy, but his eyes are definitely wider and fixed firmly on her face.

He seems to catch himself after a moment, looking away and back again.]

And did you succeed in killing him?

[hyanaimne]

[with a sigh, she sits back on her heels, letting her hands drop]

I did.

[skennen]

[Connor inclines his head, his gaze distant.]

Some men need to die.

[A weighty statement, but one he knows to be true.]

A life built around seeking justice is a difficult life to live, even if your work is not hard for you. I understand why you did not enjoy the path you were made to walk. But you have set a terrible wrong right in ending that man. I hope you are able to find some happiness now.

[hyanaimne]

[her fingers clench in the material of her pants, tightly]

I am . . . trying. I did not expect to get a second chance, after everything that had happened.

[skennen]

It may take time, Tempest. Be patient with yourself, if you can.

[He has far more experience with men destroying villages and quests for revenge than he does second chances so he fears his words may ring a bit hollow here, but he offers his advice anyway, wanting to help.]