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

[moralperil]

Maybe if we boil and strain it, but it'll turn to mush... If there are any pieces of metal in it, though, even teeny tiny ones, that'd be bad...!

[Mahdi dumps the remaining food into a heat-safe bowl, tapping his chin. He senses the woman is struggling - not everyone has a tag that allows them to speak the local language, after all.]

Are you sure your hand is okay? [He asks a little more slowly.] Please let me see.

[praevikaan]

[She listens to the tablet as it translates, and then tucks it under one arm to extend her hand. She isn't hurt, and she's aware of it, but it seems a quicker way to prove such a thing. She holds her palm flat, the skin is rough and calloused but certainly not harmed.]

Tiny pieces would be inconsequential. It does not harm the body. It-- [she waves a hand] passes.

[... there've been a lot of experiments done back home on the matter, generally by people trying to parse out the creation of shoarocks, whoops.]

[moralperil]

[Mahdi gives her hand a once over, and nods.]

I don't want the food to be wasted, but most people will get cut up inside if they eat metal pieces. Are you sure that will be safe for you?

[He's speaking carefully and slowly, unusual for him. It's not condescending at all in tone, he's just aware she's using her tablet to translating and knowing how easy it is to misunderstand just about anything, he wants to make sure it's easier for her.]

[praevikaan]

[The concern is touching, and earns a fleeting smile.]

I will boil it as you say, then. Metal does not float, the pieces can be recovered. Or.

[She tilts her head to one side.]

Magnets?

[moralperil]

[Mahdi claps his hands together in surprise and delight.] Of course, they'll sink! That would be a way to get them to separate, as long as you don't turn the food to mush. Good thinking!

[praevikaan]

[There. Compromise. She smiles.]

I have yet to learn your name. I am Sikoyja. Ah-- Koya? If it gives you difficulty to say.

[moralperil]

Sikoyja. [Mahdi speaks it rather slowly, and probably gets the emphasis wrong, but he does manage to get the whole name out.]

Spoken language is difficult to me no matter what. But that doesn't ever stop me from talking! Sikoyja is a really pretty name. [He says it more confidently the second time around.] I'm Mahdi. Or Clare, if you please. Whatever. [He gives a small, wiggly-finger wave.] It's nice to meet you.

[praevikaan]

['Mahdi'. That almost sounds like it could be Zekelue, and it earns a moment's scrutiny. She's certain he's not from her world, but more often it seems as if she's running into similarities, things that are almost close enough. She repeats the name once in her mind, and then tentatively outloud. She's good with languages, so she gets it mostly right.]

Why is it difficult? Language, I mean. [... and after a moment she remembers that curiosity really shouldn't override manners, so,] And it is nice to meet you, also.

[moralperil]

Talking is difficult! Getting my head around like... having to [Mahdi touches his mouth and sort of pushes outward in a gesture that would probably usually be used to indicate vomiting] make the sounds, and everything? There are so many different meanings to words and I get things mixed up! It's not easy when everyone is so different they can't just sort of tune into what you're thinking.