(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

[hoody]

Annie has been approached once or twice, but she has that kind of aura about her that doesn't really facilitate conversation or interaction. She's starting to realize that that might be something of an inhibition here — this isn't the world within the walls or the world outside, or even a world on a planet at all. She would need to speak with others to get her bearings and figure out her next move. That meant getting away from this window and the snarl of her thoughts and speaking with people.

She thinks she would prefer be back in Trost, fighting titans. Just briefly, for a passing second.

She senses someone standing nearby and turns her attention on the person; another kid, maybe around her own age. He seems a little bit more like a kid to her, at least; the military and fighting titans robbed everyone she knew of that kind of thing.

Annie looks down blankly at the styrofoam cup for a moment before she takes it. It's warm, and when she ventures a taste, it's sweet — chocolate, even. She had never really had the luxury of hot chocolate before; she replies with a, "Thanks," which sounds slightly stilted, yet genuine.

She takes another sip before venturing conversation. "Are you here to calm down all of us panicked newcomers?" A moment's pause, then, "Or, what is it — Transports?" There was a fair amount of terminology she had to figure out.

[velveteened]

"Transports," he affirms with a nod, and his smile warms with a note of faint pride at her having picked up the term already.

It's not the first upsurge of warmth at her response, either; the thanks, however stilted, merits one too with its sincerity. He's seen — experienced — the reactions people have to a situation like this one, and they understandably run the gamut but tend towards the dismayed and unhappy (to say the least). And who can blame anyone? Short of coming directly out of an unbearably terrible situation, being forcibly taken from one's entire world and brought to a strange one's horrible war is disorienting and incredibly upsetting. Perhaps the added facet of also being on the moon is just another strange thing in the light of all that; the loss of a city forcing their hands can't have the same sort of sting when someone hasn't even seen the city before, much less known its inhabitants. He watches her reactions, how relatively calm she seems from the outside, though he of all people realizes how misleading that can be.

"As for that," he goes on with a laugh, that being if he's here to calm people, "that depends! Is it working?"

He winks, exaggerating the joke all the more.

"I thought you can't go wrong with hot chocolate! Unless someone doesn't like chocolate, or has an allergy," which would be unfortunate, "but in that case, there's tea and coffee too. And cookies!"

[hoody]

She finds the term somewhat strange, nonetheless. 'Transports' made them sound like they were still in some sort of transition, although, from what she heard, they were all stuck static here until they won whatever war this Initiative wanted them to win and they were all sent home. Well, they were stuck here spatially at least. She had heard about the whole wrinkle of time travel thrown into the mix. The idea of being temporally shifted between places and times in this alien world was a little too much for her to digest, though, in addition to everything else.

Perhaps it was fortunate that the place Annie came from was already ravaged by war and terror; the prospect of being thrust into another one wasn't one she was particularly fond of, but that was more so because of her lack of decision on the topic rather than lack of familiarity. Considering the opponent that she had been trained to fight, fighting normal humans might seem almost too simple.

Unfortunately, all of Oz's charm goes completely lost on Annie. She looks at him, impassive through the reply and the wink and remaining silent for a moment before replying with a shrug and a murmured, "You might have to ask someone else to find that out." Annie Leonhardt did not panic. She had trained too long and too hard for that. She simply needed time to adjust and acclimate to new situations, but that was all she needed.

"The chocolate is fine." She takes another sip; honestly, it was one of her favorite aspects to being cooped up here currently. Fare had been better in the interior than it had been at the training camp and in Trost, but they certainly hadn't had any sort of dessert like this with any type of regularity. She makes something of a face at the suggestion of a cookie, however. "No, I think I'll pass." She'd been given one earlier and had decided it was best to avoid them.

[velveteened]

Oz never thought he'd see the day where he met someone who doesn't like cookies, but if he's learned anything while being here it's that anything is indeed possible. Her demeanor, the lack of response to his own, doesn't bother him; it's often enough he meets people less than impressed with his ridiculousness, really, nice as it might've been to make her smile.

There's plenty of time yet to try harder at that.

"There's a machine in the cafeteria for making hot drinks, though resources are a little limited," he says apologetically.

It's always a bit of a stretch, being up here, and even with people being sent back all the time; regular influxes of new people only ensures that status quo stays the same.

"Do you have any questions?"

[hoody]

If he'd tried the cookies that had been offered to her, she believes he'd be of the same opinion. That, and her appetite had a tendency of getting a little bit... off when she was anxious (or more-so than usual). As for attempting to get her to smile, well. He was welcome to try, but wars could be waged for that and no one would emerge the victor. Besides, what on earth was there to distill from this situation which might make her happy? She sighs.

A look of puzzlement settles over her expression at this talk of a drink machine, though. "It... makes drinks? A machine?" If she hasn't tipped her hand from where technology had progressed to in her own world yet, that would probably help. The maneuver gear she is presently strapped into is the pinnacle of human technology in her world; they hadn't had the time or means to invent fancy drink machines.

Questions? It's more like what she doesn't have a question for. She settles on one that seems most pressing. "How do they let us know they have a mission for us?"

[velveteened]

"A machine!"

He repeats it cheerfully, but not without understanding. The technology for it isn't something he'd pretend to grasp, and it certainly doesn't exist anywhere in his world. It's more a testament to the amount of time he's spent here than anything else that devices like these are something he can talk about like they're commonplace. As for her question —

"There's an announcement. Though, that's only for missions they need everyone or a lot of people to go on. You can always go on smaller missions by yourself or with only a few other people if you want."

[hoody]

A... machine. That makes fancy drinks. And Annie had thought that the one which pulled people from different places and times in the universe was unbelievable...

She would just have to look around and explore all of these machines and whatever else herself—having people tell her about them wouldn't help in the slightest. As for the missions, they would be announced. The idea of electing to go on smaller missions herself seems ridiculous to her (would she even waste her time for the benefit of an organization she cared nothing for?), but, then again, if she was going to be stuck here, it might be worth alleviating the boredom.

Annie looks away, thinking to herself, for a moment or two—long enough for the conversation to lull and for the stranger to feel she might've forgotten him. Then she seems to remember, looking at him from the corner of her eye and murmuring, "Thanks for the information." It would sound like an automatic thing, one someone said for necessity and not due to genuine feeling. Then she's back to looking out the window with a stormy expression on her face.