(no subject)

[initiates]

Date: December 1st
Location: The Observatory.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports arrive and are shuffled into the Observatory after their initial briefings.
Warnings: None.

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, solemn and taciturn. 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, or tells you that the DITR's greeters will explain everything. On the tablet, you can find the history of this place and a record of what your new cohorts have experienced. 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; they show multiple variations of satellite images, focused on... somewhere snowy. It's difficult to say more than that, but those that record heat readings seem to suggest there are people there, where ever "there" is. It's night outside the great wide windows, and the lunar landscape isn't much to look at right now. But, hey, at least all the lights are on, right? No more creepy red emergency lighting upon arrival — not that you'd know anything about that.

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, and to the remains of Exsilium.

[[ ooc; As a note for players of current characters: please keep your root comments confined to the various groups and organizations that set up root comments to greet new characters! We highly encourage tagging around here, but since it's a log meant for new characters specifically, we ask that they be the ones to set up root threads to the entry. Thank you, and happy playing! ]]

Comments

[mortuaria]

[ Okay. A vampire who wants to protect humanity. Sure, why not? ]

Where's your donkey leg?

[bloodthirsts]

I... beg your pardon?

[mortuaria]

Never mind. It's an empousa thing.

So what you're saying is you're a good vampire.

[bloodthirsts]

[She has no idea what that word means but decides not to question it right now.]

Yes! I work for an organisation called Hellsing [She helpfully taps the insignia on the breast of her uniform.] which acts in secret under command of the Queen and government to protect the United Kingdom from the threat of vampires and other monsters.

[mortuaria]

[ As angry and macabre as Nico is, he's willing to give fellow outcasts a chance. Lots of people are misunderstood, judged for what they are instead of who they are. ]

Okay.

[bloodthirsts]

I apologise if I scared you. I've never met anyone who could sense that before.

[She straightens, hoping to get things on a better footing.]

My name is Seras Victoria, pleasure to meet you.

[mortuaria]

Nico di Angelo.

Most half-bloods wouldn't be able to either, but I'm not most half-bloods.

[bloodthirsts]

Do you prefer Mr. di Angelo or is it alright if I call you Nico?

[It's a pretty sounding name!]

May I ask why you can?

[mortuaria]

Uh. Nico's fine.

[ really what ]

Because my dad is the god of the Underworld.

[gevurah]

A few of them since I've been here. They aren't always focused on physical combat.

[counterattacked]

[It's not weird, okay, it's standard issue where he comes from. (It's weird.) It's also probably pretty useless on the moon, way to go. It's a pain in the ass to cart around in pieces, though, so wearing it for now makes more sense, even if it's a bit cumbersome in small spaces. He's got one hand braced on the wall to keep himself upright as the other finishes securing the gear. Almost there, so he answers without looking up.]

I'm fine. [Stubborn, as firmly as he is able, a little harsher than it needs to be.] I've got it. Worry about someone else.

[He's chronically bad at accepting concern, even when he really ought to, so it's brusque, dismissive. Finished with the stubborn buckle, he straightens, lifts his head and-

...stares. Not subtly, either. Wide eyed and abruptly silent for a few shocked seconds. She's blue. Her hair is very blue. That is not a thing that happens. Give him a second.]

1/3

[clansman]

[ the real question is why you'd leave yata, you loser.

late-late-later, mikoto walks right past him. ]

[clansman]

[ . . .









. . . ]

[clansman]

[ She's spared a glance: one second, two, a flick from feet to crown. ]

. . . hah. Doubt it.

[clansman]

[ andddd walks right back

to stand before his corner in perfect silence.

with this exact expression. ]

isn't that everyone's policy.

[clansman]

. . . oh?

[ -- white hair.

His head turns; his eyes fix on the boy. After a moment, Mikoto's smile cracks, thin and slow, curving back into indifference. ]

How fast're you. . . ?

[clansman]

Doesn't look like it.

[ eric, then, and yata. the sense of them is right, and the weight of borrowed silver's a new and heavy glint against his ear, and the flame's still coiled like a beast at the back of his mind, but --



. . . but kusanagi's not here.

this means he has to actually do work, doesn't it. ]

They talk to you?

[clansman]

. . . Tetsuya Kuroko.

[ It's a lazy repetition, a test of the syllables more than an acknowledgment. ]

Did you want something?

[clansman]

[ Shouting in his vicinity's nothing new; he's hit the lock twice (the second rattle is possibly a little ominous) before it occurs to him that the noise might be directed at him. ]

What?

[clansman]

[ he stops!!! just short of crashing into her.

and takes a step back.

-- and laughs. what a question. ]

Nowhere.

[clansman]

[ Wow, it's a midget. His head turns, but he doesn't actually let go of the lock. But she sounds really worked up about it. . .


. . . ]

There's other doors.

[clansman]

[ Too many syllables, too many oddities in one go. ]

Haah?

[counterattacked]

[He's sort of half-listening, narrowing his eyes and tipping his head to peer past Armin toward his gear and those very familiar stains. He's brought 'round to the current conversation again by the surprisingly blinding light in his eyes, and he blinks hard in surprise.]

I didn't hit my head.

[He doesn't sound...entirely sure of that answer. Even his memory of the fight with the female titan is a sort of hazy and painful mesh of grief and anger and bloodlust right now. He knows he lost but he doesn't remember anything after that. His hands pull themselves into tense fists of their own accord.]

The female-type titan- You saw her, didn't you? She broke right through the left flank.

[Right through to the center of the formation. Right out of the trap that had been set for her.]

[hotdate]

...Uh...no. Not exactly. I kind of need oxygen to live and that isn't out there.

...mikoto no what're you going to do

[veratrum]

[Liam tilts his head at the question. Now that the man's turned to face him, the too-briht, unnerving green lights in his pupils seem to grow even brighter, and he considers the question. He doesn't look much like that Boy. Maybe a tall, befreckled, creepy-as-hell Weissman?]

Fast enough.

[He shrugs, easily enough.] But, you know, that's an airlock. I was told it's preeeetty bad for people to just open those up around here.