etrayalogs | FEBRUARY MINGLE

Entry tags:

FEBRUARY MINGLE

WHO: Everyone!
WHEN: February 14th - March
WHERE: Etraya
WHAT: The arrival of newcomers, a mini mission, and some new city features!
NOTES\WARNINGS:

⏵ arrival ⏴
Welcome to Etraya!

Arrival goes as expected - characters awaken on hospital beds and are offered an explanation of their situation: that they have arrived in the city of Etraya, and they are their world's only hope. They are welcome to wander the hospital if they would like to - the upper floors are mostly empty, full of pristine hallways and numerous rooms filled with supplies, cots, and things one would expect from a relatively average 21st-century hospital.

In the hospital's lobby are several party tables set out with miscellaneous baked goods: croissants, cookies, breads, cake slices, as well as tea and coffee to accompany them - or hot chocolate, for those who are opposed to the other offerings.

Outside the hospital, the last remnants of snow are melting in the sunlight as the weather begins to warm up. It's still chilly enough one might want to put on a coat, but not so cold a jacket is necessary for wandering around without freezing off one's fingers.

We hope you enjoy your stay.

⏵ heroes return ⏴

As the Quantum Rail train glides to a halt, returning passengers step out onto familiar ground - the train station, right where they had initially begun their mission. When exiting the station, their earpieces vibrate, indicating the automatic download of a detailed map which highlights key locations, transit paths, and notable landmarks. As Aurora promised, she had been working on a few renovations around Etraya! A sleek trolley system now winds through Etraya, following clearly marked pathways through the city bubble to make travel across the city smoother. However, the trolley only moves one way, eternally following the loop Aurora has set it on. And because of this, it takes six hours to complete it's loop all the way around. Don't miss your stop!

Pets and animals have been returned to their usual preferred areas, some awaiting the arrival of their owners, and others keeping to themselves in the forested areas throughout Etraya.

Beyond the small upgrades, things seem relatively unchanged - until one familiar sign catches the eye. One marked by four vertical lines, methodically crossed out one by one: the final slash has now been drawn through. The tally is complete. What it indicates has yet to be made clear, but it has to mean something, right? No one would go through the effort of making an ominous-sounding sign without following through.

⏵ love in the air ⏴

This Valentines Day, Aurora and the companion bots have opted to try something a little different: they have scattered mystery valentines across the city. Hidden within mailboxes, tucked into cafe menus, slipped under doors, on the outside of high windows for those wall-crawlers to spot. There are countless of these little slips of papers, strewn throughout the city. And within each valentine, is a challenge or gesture to complete. Please feel free to make these up yourselves as long as they fit in with the theme!

Some examples include:

Deliver a flower to a stranger.
Write a heartfelt poem for someone.
Share a box of chocolates!
Confess your feelings for another.
Play matchmaker for two people - this can be platonic, or romantic!
Gift a friend with a stuffed animal.
Give five different people a genuine compliment.

While not mandatory, completing five tasks will earn an individual an additional ten points to use towards anything they would like!

Each little Valentine is signed "Your Secret Admirer. ♡", and some of them may even be addressed to specific individuals. Don't be surprised, Eddie, if you see one or two that are specifically addressed to you lurking around your collection of chicken friends!

And while most of these are harmless, some of the valentines cards come with effects for those who come into contact with the paper. Perhaps they thought it was a piece of garbage, or were just kicking it out of the way rather than intending on taking part. It doesn't matter! They get to join in on the fun, too.

Heart Eyes - your pupils literally turn into hearts for a few hours, making it hard to focus on anything other than things (or people) you find attractive.
Love-Struck Stammer - You can only speak in poetic compliments or romantic declarations, regardless of whom you're speaking to.
Chocolate Bliss - Everything feels good. Simple. Easy. As if there's nothing in the world to concern yourself with. You feel happy, without any concerns or worry.
Rose-Tinted Vision - everything looks soft and romantic, as if you're in a romance novel. You know the ones.
Magnetic Attraction - regardless of what you had been doing, you suddenly find yourself unable to leave the side of the person closest to you. Had you been eating chocolates while walking down the street? Well, have fun getting stuck to the guy who'd been out for a jog!
Serenade Syndrome - you find it impossible to resist the urge to sing your words, turning all conversations into love ballads.
Heartstrings - A thread appears, connecting you to someone close by who you share many similarities too. Perhaps you had never met this person before, but the threads tied around your pinky fingers that refuse to let go until you allow yourself to open up to them clearly means you should be a little more familiar with them.

Love is in the air—or maybe just a bit of well-intended chaos! 💕

⏵ NOTES ⏴

Welcome back from the mission, and welcome to Etraya for our newcomers! We've tried to keep this log simple for an easy introduction, as well as some downtime for our mission-goers who worked hard to solve the Quantum Rail mystery.

There is something else going on, but. . . well, no one seems to know what! The computer that had been on the lower floor of the hospital is now missing, and Aurora may seem a little flustered as she flits around Etraya, in search of something.

For all questions relating to this log, please refer to the mod queries comment. All other questions can be directed to the FAQ.

⏵FULL NAVIGATION⏴

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Steak it is.

[ John picks up a pack of two promising looking steaks, keeps it casual. He gets the sense Carver is starting to struggle in here and he did just force him to express an opinion. John recognizes how hard that can be; it's his own weakness too. If he's fine with everything then everything is fine, right? But there's this little voice these days that sounds a lot like Harold that nags him about things like this. Maybe he's taking them out on Carver instead of himself, but any voice that comes from Harold can only be good. Harold would never lead him astray. ]

I think we'll have asparagus with it. Let's finish up so we can head to the liquor store.

[ He's at Kwik Trip pretty often these days getting groceries for the library, so he knows his way around the store and they're out pretty quickly after that, trudging their way back to the city center where the liquor store is nearby. It's a longer trip on foot, but even with the string they're able to make good time.

As they step inside the liquor store John looks around. He hasn't actually been here yet, just occasionally drinks what Harold has around. It's probably better that he keeps his distance. ]

Your turn.

[ It feels domestic, is the thing. Like going to the store before the world went even more to shit than usual. Carver thinks unbidden of getting groceries to make Riley dinner, only he and Riley never bitched at each other over protein options, and promptly puts that thought away into a little box where it belongs. It doesn't matter. It cannot.

But the simple truth here is that this is happening. He can't bolt to higher ground because John's there and it'd be a weakness besides. Only a coward would run from this.

Carver works his jaw, rocking on his heels when they step inside the liquor store. He hates the shine of it, the light shining off all those bottles, the excess, more than he's seen in years, think of all the antiseptic they could make -

Focus, Carve, Leah murmurs in his ear. What's wrong with you?

He grabs the first bottle in front of him. It's some kind of sake, apparently. ]

Let's go.

[ He knows, deep down, that he's making this difficult. That it's just more of the regular bullshit around here, no point in getting emotional, but the tension from the train lives in his chest now. It's settled in there like a splinter, worrying under his skin, and he's still sleeping like shit. Unable to settle. ]

[ Harold would probably complain that Carver didn't pick something to match the meal, but John isn't about to, so they wordlessly leave and head back to the apartments. The apartment John lives in doesn't have his name outside, but he has the key and lets them in. The inside is clean, organized, but with little details that make it seem like someone actually lives here. A book on the coffee table, a mug and plate in a strainer next to the sink, a coat and scarf draped over the back of a chair. The corners have a bit of dust, the mopping is a bit sloppy, there's a coffee stain on the counter. John knows how to stage a room properly.

He guides them to the kitchen but doesn't bother putting anything in the fridge. Whatever they have now is what he'll be using, there's only some butter in the fridge and canned items in the cupboards, but there's a proper assortment of pots and pans. ]

It'll be awkward movement but we can probably make this work.

[ And of course, capitalism isn't a thing here so they don't have to pay, they just take what they want and there's no one to stop them. No one to fight them for their old or a drink or the clothes on their back. There's just enough for everyone and apparently it'll always be like this, the lessons of the train and the world back home already forgotten by everyone except Carver, again.

He walks silently, marking every corner, every potential blindspot they pass. And then once they're inside John's apartment he marks the corners there, too. Looking for security cameras, for hidden weapons, for whatever intelligence he can gather like this.

It's a nice place, probably. Carver doubts anyone's even died in here. But it serves a purpose and there's a reason John didn't bring him back to the library, where he actually lives.

Carver just exhales sharply and strips his gloves off - the string, stupidly, doesn't budge - to wash his hands. This is happening. This is fucking happening. ]

[ It's true, John didn't take Carver back to where he actually lives. It's a space he feels very careful with, very cautious. There's something precious about walking in and having Harold look up and say "welcome back, Mr. Reese" that he doesn't want to share with other people. There's some deep joy in him, getting to come back to Harold, even if they've been forced together by circumstance rather than desire. (John desires it, immensely, he just doesn't think Harold does.) The tactical reasons of excluding Carver from the library's living space are second to this, even though practically they should be his first thought.

Making the meal is an awkward shuffle around the kitchen, John occasionally directing Carver to help with something, but he does most of it himself, efficiently and clearly with practice. At the end of the trial they have a rather nice meal set out at the table: steak, asparagus, and crispy potatoes. John feels rather proud of throwing this together under the circumstances. He's clearly in a good mood when he turns to Carver. ]

Hope you're hungry.

[ By right, it should be an easy moment. There's food and booze and nobody's trying to kill them. They don't have to ration anything, don't have to set a guard to watch for the dead or their looming enemies. It's just a moment, with what probably will be good food cooking and then served. John doesn't even try small talk, just gets to work and gives Carver smaller tasks.

It should be easy. It might even be nice except that Carver can't shake the feeling that he's being tested somehow. John's easy mood doesn't help. Carver just takes his plate and pulls it in close, instinctively defensive.

But then, it's a sin to be greedy. To take more than your fair share, or to eat before a superior's deemed it time.

Carver pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing out. ]

I'm always hungry.

[ Even here, in a place where no one's ever starved. ]

Great, dig in.

[ John certainly does. He knows he cooks good food. And it is good. The steak is juicy and perfectly cooked, the asparagus isn't too soft or too crunchy, and the potatoes are the perfect combination of crispy on the outside and creamy in the middle with just the right amount of salt and oil. It doesn't match the meal, but the sake is even pretty good. John drinks it carefully, the way he drinks all drinks these days, but he doesn't turn it away. They're supposed to be doing this properly, after all. ]

[ He shoots John a suspicious look, not bothering to hide it, but no threats or tests come. If this is a trick, it's not one that's sprung. And, as it turns out, John's a good cook. Carver watched him to make sure there was no drugs or fuckery added, no ground glass or rat poison because you never can tell what people will try and ally is a tenuous state at best.

Or maybe Carver's paranoid because he hasn't been sleeping much.

Carver stabs a potato. ] It's good, [ he adds, somewhat grudgingly. He doesn't wolf it down. He has manners, still. ]

Thanks, [ is all John says in reply. He knows Carver isn't one for small talk, and neither is he, so he doesn't force it. He hopes Carver will just enjoy having some good food. John just eats in silence, taking a bit of this, a bit of that, a sip of his drink. There's water on the table too, he drinks that as well. He'll let Carver make the next move, let him do what he's comfortable with. ]

[ The sake remains largely untouched. He takes a sip to prove he's not afraid of it, though Carver quietly longs for more - something to quiet his head down just for a minute - and then sticks to water. He eats silently, hunched protectively over his plate, and thinks longingly of the communal meals the Reapers used to have. Always with someone on watch to make sure the rest of them could let their guard down for a few minutes. Carver cooked whenever he could, even swapping duties with some of the others. He could've gotten out of it, as an almost-NCO, but he always liked cooking. He wonders, but doesn't ask, if John does too.

But the sting stays stubbornly on.

Carver eats silently, watching it. Eyes narrowed. ]

Okay. Now what?

[ "Now what" indeed. They've done something very Valentine's Day-y and apparently that's not what's expected of them. Or maybe they did it wrong, somehow? John doesn't know. He's never done anything real for Valentine's Day. Never was in the right relationship at the right time. He would have done for Jessica, but he was in the Army at the time. It hurts a little to think of what she deserved, what she got, but time has smoothed that over, some. ]

I don't know. I've been mostly successful with avoiding what happens here. Anything happened like this to you before?

Not unless you mean the time me and Shaw got locked in cages and had to confess our secrets.

[ It comes out flat, more than a little angry. He doesn't resent Shaw for it. They were both caught and nearly drowned in the river for their trouble. It happened. They survived it. They were, in some senses, made stronger for it in the end. It made them allies, didn't it?

He doesn't know what this makes him and John, except for two men in a room eating a meal that Carver feels increasingly awkward and unsuited for. ]

I don't know the rules here.

[ That's a terrible idea, but John doesn't have any others. ]

We can try that, unless you have another idea. Or we can write romantic poetry to each other.

[ Carver clearly doesn't like the idea, but John really doesn't have anything else. Writing poetry sounds equally unappealing. John isn't sure he knows how to write romantic poetry. They could probably find an example in the library, he knows where the poetry section is. ]

I'm not writing you poetry.

[ Though if this doesn't work, Carver supposes they could go to the library and read some of the romantic shit out loud. Would that count? So much of the magic shit here is opaque, the sort of fairytale nonsense that only makes sense in stories. Not when it's thrown at real people.

He twitches, feeling the warning edges of a migraine pulsing in his skull, and takes another drink of sake. God, he's tired. ]

Ugh. Fine. It's probably gotta be romantic, right? You got somebody back in the world?

[ He doubts it. But what else is there to try? ]

[ John goes a little cold when he realizes Carver is probably right. Is this where he says it? Is this where he says he loves Harold? That he's dedicated his life to Harold? That he feels like he's taking advantage of Harold every time he makes him dinner but can't stop, can't let go of his ill gotten gains?

No. He can't say that. ]

I did. [ It's halting, because it hurts to talk about Jessica and he's still reeling from thinking about confessing his feelings for Harold. ] I let her die. She asked me to come help her and I couldn't put work off, couldn't say no. Her husband killed her and I wasn't there even thought I told her I would be.

[ It hurts so badly to talk about Jessica, his broken promise to her. She died because he couldn't say no to the CIA. And for what? They tried to kill him instead. Kara shot him, they sent bomber jets to blow up his corpse. All that and Jessica died. He thinks it shows on his face, in his voice, even though he tries to hide it. ]

[ Somehow, he's not expecting an immediate answer, let alone a detailed one. Carver gives John a narrow look, assessing. It could be a lie. Could be a story that John prepared ahead of time and memorized. Something to spark sympathy, a connection between them.

Or maybe it's just a bad turn that happened. He supposes it doesn't matter.

Carver tilts his head, watching John silently for a long moment. The sting between them doesn't break. ]

She was a civilian?

She was a nurse. A great person. I loved her laugh. I quit the Army to be with her, but— [ he remembers Mexico, Jessica looking at the television ] 9/11 happened. I knew I had to go back. I didn't ask her to wait for me.

[ That fateful conversation in the airport, right when he was leaving for the CIA. His last chance to get out, to be someone else, and he couldn't say it. ]

[ And she didn't, is the unspoken part. She moved on and married someone else, someone who turned on her. Enough of a connection stayed between them for her to call John for help, though. There's guilt there, Carver realizes, a well of it churning not even deeply below the surface. He could exploit that without much effort. Any good interrogator would.

He breathes out, centering himself. Watching John close. ]

You wanted a life with her. What kind of life?

[ This part is easier. He knows how to ask questions. ]

[ What kind of life indeed? John can't even imagine it. Can't imagine being worthy of being with her after all he'd done, though he would have tried. But Kara was right, in the end: there's no going back from the path he started down. He can see that now. ]

I just wanted a better one for her. [ But he has nothing more he can say about Jessica. It's a closed book. He's said all there is to say. His fate was sealed in an airport terminal years ago. ] What about you?

[ A better life. An easy thing to say, to aspire to. It's one of those lofty little phrases people like to turn to without really thinking about the how and why. What's better mean? How do you get there? That's the part that trips people up.

But then, it's easy to love a ghost.

Carver exhales. He knew the question was coming back to him. He could lie, he supposes. No one here would know the difference except maybe whatever bullshit magic's bound him and John together in the first place. ]

Had someone. Didn't keep them. Chose my team instead.

[ He doesn't say Riley's name. He served during DADT and maybe there's no one left to give a shit now, but he doesn't want to fight about it here and he'd have to fight about it if John said something, out of sheer principle. ]

[ John understands. There's a sense of belonging that can't be denied with that kind of comradery. He was never close enough with his team in the Army not to leave them for different opportunities, but he understands. He's seen it in others. There was Joey, after all, who fell into a life of crime just to support the family of a fellow Marine he felt responsible for. ]

What was their name?

[ If John had to spill his guts then Carver does too. ]

[ His jaw works. Then: ]

Riley.

[ It's been something like fifteen years since Riley kicked him out. There was no going back after that. They didn't even fight at the end. Riley just told him how it was and Carver accepted it, knew there was no point in promising it'd be different because it wouldn't.

He doesn't know if Riley survived the fall. So many didn't. ]

We served together.

[ Served together but not part of the same team? John is a little surprised at that, but doesn't let it show. But. He knows how hard it is to talk about this. He can tell it's hard for Carver. He didn't want Carver to push him and he doesn't want to push in return. If they need to confess then this is confession enough. He's about to open his mouth and call an end to this conversation when the thread just... dissolves. Like it was never there. He stares at his hand just for a moment, and then drains his glass. He feels like that's deserved. ]

Sometimes this place is awful.

[ There's no fanfare when it ends. Carver stares at his hand, flexing his gingers in case this too is a trap. But the string is just gone.

He takes his glass without a word and downs the rest of the sake with a hiss. ]

Yeah. Sure fucking is.

Want some more potatoes and sake?

[ There's more of both, and the potatoes are good. It's his favorite way of making potatoes, though there's something to be said for mashed. Honestly, it was a toss up. But the offer is more of an attempt to return to normalcy, to put this conversation behind them. ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject