transport log » ❝ welcome to Exsilium ❞

[initiates]

Date & Time: Sept 23rd, 2012.
Location: The Initiative Hold & Courtyard.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports have all arrived and have been shuffled into the Courtyard after their initial briefings.
Warnings: None.

You've just been hustled and bustled through mazes of information and literal, wide corridors of the Initiative Hold and you've been equipped with your weapon—be it a gun, a sword, or even your existing powers. They've handed you this light netbook and a small pouch of coins (or a debit card, if you're more inclined), and there are several Transports before and after you going through the very same motions. You can hear the Greeter's voice as she walks alongside large groups, telling them all about the history of this place and sharing with you your purpose here in a hurried and urgent tone. "This isn't standard," she's saying, walking perhaps faster than most of the people she's dragging around. "We don't normally have so many Transports at once. Please, let me show you into the courtyard."

You pass what looks like huge gymnasiums, all with dummies and targets strewn and splayed around the room. Training areas. There are even classrooms, and a few small offices. You're rushed past a large library while the Greeter informs you that you can find almost all your information there, if you've got the time to look—and trust her, you'll have time. You don't spend a lot of time in the bank, and it's a bit of a blur of exchanges with more and more of these strangely-accented and oddly polite-seeming members of the Initiative.

Soon enough, you're in a massive courtyard bustling with all the other Transports. It's not exactly what you'd expect, and it looks more like barracks than anything—huge walls of concrete and stone, separating you from all of the hallways you'd just passed through. It's raining heavily, and dark clouds loom in the air. It's a chill cold, and there are shelters—long cloth hangings that extend from the walls of concrete to house you from the rain, but not enough. Most notably, the courtyard is filled with a marketplace. Even in the cold and the rain, there are several citizens seated at their covered booths and tables. They're selling all manner of their own handmade goods and foods, and citizens and Transports alike are traveling from one small covered shop to another in search of all manner of necessities.

The Greeter's voice has become so faint now, but you swear you can make it out in the back of the crowds as she tells you, "Good luck. Be safe!"

Her voice is drowned out by the busy marketplace, though even the transactions taking place are somewhat subdued. Nobody is overly happy, really, though most citizens can be found with smiles on their faces. It doesn't seem like they're that shocked to see you, either; even if you're not bound in tattered rags and wrapped in heavy shawls as they are. You're welcome to walk up to a shop, and find yourself something to eat—hey, maybe you'll even find something akin to a raincoat. Or, you can join the others under the coverings against the walls. Where am I? What war? She was talking so fast, and it didn't all make very much sense… did anyone else catch it all?

Welcome to the courtyard. Welcome to the Initiative Hold—and most importantly, welcome to Exsilium.

Comments

[allsongs]

[fragments of a melody find him in the midst of his baffled moments, lilting and foreign.

so many strangers. the words seem to present themselves, despite not being sang or spoken aloud. wearied and worried. what will become of you?

it's a bleak turn of note, immediately followed by something gentler, warmer.

ah, you are not so alone.]

[flagrate]

[ the voice-notvoice breaks ace out of his thoughts. he looks around, trying to find it, when he hears the second bit.

he stills, then, frowning slightly. ]

... what the hell? [ it's muttered under his breath. if he's hearing things, he doesn't want to let anyone else in on the fact that he's snapped. ]

[allsongs]

[be calm.

Simmaeri stands at a distance, standing in the rain as one standing in no rain at all; it doesn't bother her, she feels no chill.

but she smiles wanly in the direction of the young man, still singing her strange song.]

[flagrate]

[ when he spots her, ace stills. the song and the notvoice are strange enough that he's not quite sure what to do with them. he's not freaking out, just... confused.

so he gives her a small wave and hopes he doesn't look like a total idiot for doing so. ]

[allsongs]

[a moment passes and she lifts her hand in response, the smile slowly starting to reach her eyes. she quiets then, watching – waiting, really. to see what he does. what kind of person he could be.]

[flagrate]

[ he's a curious sort of person, really. so he tilts his head to the side and can't keep the "this is new and interesting" look off his face. ]

Can you hear me from all the way over there?

[allsongs]

[unfortunately, no. busy, bustling, bothered crowds conflict with his sound. but with his attention and curiosity gotten, Simmaeri's hand tilts, lowering a little. her fingers bend in one of those more-or-less universal come this way gestures.]

[flagrate]

[ that gesture is pretty unmistakeable. and ace is just curious enough that he stands up and moves simmaeri's way when he sees it. ]

... Hello.

[allsongs]

Hello. [a bland smile.] Who are you?

[flagrate]

Ace. My name's Ace. It's nice to meet you.

[allsongs]

Ace. [short. but simple? that depends. the squint in her eyes gives away the notion of more thought than a simple name demands.] Yes...It is nice to meet. [Ace, huh?] What is Ace mean? More than a name?