MISSION 001

[etrayamods]

WHO: Everyone!
WHEN: March 29th-April 20th
WHERE: Everywhere on Etraya
WHAT: Mission 001!
NOTES\WARNINGS: Potential violence, death.

⏵ mission prep ⏴ On the morning of the 29th, characters will receive a notification from Aurora to come to the hospital’s ground floor to prepare for their first mission. On this floor, pairs will be given slips of paper with matching numbers. If characters have chosen their partners, they too will receive small slips of paper with matching numbers, as these numbers match the room assignment they will be asked to please step inside. The rooms themselves are bare. There’s a cot, two chairs pushed up against a small table, a miniature fridge set up below a sink, and a television that only plays static. On the table is a note, which simply reads: Welcome. To prepare you for your first mission, we are giving you time to get to know your partner. You have a twelve-hour time limit to discuss your lives together. We recommend talking about moments throughout your life that have defined the person you have become. In addition, we have included several ingredients inside the miniature refrigerator. You must, without telling your partner specifically what it is, create their favorite drink using the ingredients within and above the refrigerator. Do not attempt to cheat. Do not make your own drink. If you pass, you will both be given two points and the door will unlock. If you fail, you may try again with the same partner or a new partner may be reassigned to you. Good luck. Within the mini fridge will be numerous ingredients - these ingredients could be anything, from Bantha milk to dragon fruit - whatever their favorite drinks are, they will find all the correct ingredients to make them. There will also be numerous extra ingredients. Maybe a character’s favorite drink is a nice cup of peppermint tea. The kettle, and the tea bags, will be present on top of the mini fridge, but there may also be soda bottles inside the fridge and various milk substitutes. Cheating by making their own drink will result in the game being reset, and a new partner being assigned or no partner at all being assigned and they will simply be removed from this part of the exercise. ⏵ the secret's out⏴ Numerous notes can be found throughout Etraya’s populated areas - falling from the sky, taped to doors, slid under them, or perhaps being handed out by a few of the companion bots who will eagerly note how these are meant to help, but a quick read may show that they’re not things anyone wants to be given out so freely. After all, on the notes are secrets, untold truths, things that were never meant to be shared nor wanted out in the open. Some of these aren’t notes at all, but small packages that are not addressed to anyone in particular, or addressed to the incorrect party. Inside the packages are items that may be associated with a particular event: a knife that had been used to betray a friend still stained with blood, a mask meant to conceal identity, a picture featuring a moment in time that had best been left forgotten. The goal of the game becomes clear by the notes written on the back or thin slips within the packages: match the secret to the person. You could simply ignore them, but the note also includes an addendum: more notes will continue to be sent until the person is matched to their secret. ⏵ cracked reflection ⏴ Every person is an intricate mosaic, composed of numerous facets that shape what makes them - themselves. After all, one person is not simply one picture, but rather, a puzzle comprised of myriad pieces. These pieces may shape their strengths, their sense of humor, the influences of their upbringing, and who they admired in their formative years. Together, these fragments coalesce into a singular form: you. But what if those pieces were rearranged? What if the fundamental aspects that define who you are simply… didn’t exist? What if, rather than being a courageous hero, you were cast as a formidable villain? What if, instead of pursuing the path that led you to greatness, you veered in a different direction? A new dawn breaks over Etraya. The artificial sun rises over the horizon, accompanied by the melodic chirping of birds. As the denizens of Etraya awaken, they sense... a shift in the air - a feeling of dissonance, as if a piece of themselves has suddenly gone missing. Because it has. Doubles of every current inhabitant of Etraya roam the corridors of the apartment building and the surrounding facilities. They let themselves into Roxx to get a few new outfits, get themselves a meal at the hospital cafeteria, or maybe they’re raiding the snack shelves at Kwik Trip. They may bear a striking resemblance to their counterpart and act very similarly, but there is something off about them. A quality that sets them apart. Remember that step you took, that led you to your current career? The step you’ve kept secret for so long, that has defined your actions ever since? They didn’t take it. They went down a different path, something darker, or perhaps something lighter. They took the path you most feared, the one you knew would turn out terribly. And they in turn - turned out for the worst. Characters will find they are facing one of their worst fears: themselves, but their worst selves. The version of them that they fought so hard not to become, that they strove against rather than towards. And the mission? They need to take out their worst selves. But there’s a twist: interaction with their doubles isn’t possible. Both halves are cognizant of each other’s existence, yet they are incapable of verbally or physically interacting with each other. And while the double understands what they are, the original? Well… how do you truly know you are who you’re supposed to be? What if you were the double all along? What if you are your own worst self? There is one way to be sure: the color of the copies’ blood is slightly darker than what it should be. Running closer to a red-black than the red you would anticipate. Or for some, perhaps their blood is red where it should be running black. While they feel and look real, driving a unique blade straight through where their heart would be will cause doubles to dissipate into nothing once the knife penetrates deep enough. As for the genuine articles, well, the blade is sharp—and it’s going to hurt. A blade is provided for every authentic copy. Those who were sleeping through the night will find it beside them upon awakening. As for those who remain vigilant throughout the night, the blade will manifest beside them in the early hours of April 2nd. Guess someone is going to have to kill your double. ⏵ quicksilver has no sense of tact ⏴ Aurora’s announcement left out several crucial details: the existence of the doubles, for one. But also the looming deadline to take care of the mess that has been dropped onto Etraya. Inside the characters’ wrists, they will discover a timer gradually counting down. The timers are only visible for the person who dons it, as is the amount of time given. Every person is given an individual time limit, but it cannot be longer than two weeks. As the numbers dwindle, more black marks appear going up the inside of their arms toward the inside of their elbow. And what are the black marks? With each additional black mark, they begin to feel… less like themselves, and more like their doppelgangers. In the beginning, maybe they barely notice the change. Maybe it’s a favorite food they loved that they now hate, or perhaps it’s an event that has shifted: something small but important - a decision to save a life changed to taking one. Maybe they’ll feel like a piece of themselves is no longer the same, replaced with another feeling or sensation. Where something would have usually made them empathetic to another's blight, now they find their suffering funny. Regardless, the longer their doubles are around, the longer they slowly begin to become their doubles - and their doubles begin to become just like them. If their doppelganger is not taken out at the end of their provided time, it will simply dissipate and the original will remain changed. The only way to return to normal is to kill the original. After death, the character will remain dead for twenty-four hours before returning to their normal selves as if the death had never occurred. While killing them to return them to normal is information Aurora will readily share, no one will inform them that they will simply return to normal by April 20th. ⏵ OOC ⏴ Welcome to the first mission! For any questions relating to this mission please reply below. All other questions can be directed to the FAQ. Please note that while ICly, characters are not given a choice, players can choose which missions they wish for their characters to participate in. They may have missed receiving room assignments, or their secrets may not have been dropped, or a copy may not have shown up for them. This may not always be an option in future missions! ⏵FULL NAVIGATION⏴

Comments

[myagic]

[To be sure, the pain would've disrupted her focus enough to prevent her from casting any bigger spells, even if her magic wasn't limited by the bizarre aer restriction in this place. As it is, it's not just rage that has her trembling as she continues cradling the throbbing, burning limb, watching the latest explosions with vengeful, hateful intent. And on Clarke's dodge, she reacts with a hiss of equal parts fury and hurt.

But all that pain only serves to fuel her anger further, funneled into her desire for payback against Clarke. The other girl scrambles to her feet, and Rita's already taking a step back to prepare another fireball volley. Clarke charges headlong towards her, and Rita's gaze smoulders in anticipation of revenge--but just as the glyph is complete, the other girl dodges, infuriatingly fast, and then a bodily impact is throwing Rita to the ground.

The fall jars her injury, pulling another shriek from her throat, before she starts thrashing with her other limbs to try and escape the hold.]

Get--off!!

[skaikru]

( it takes a lot of rage to fight through the pain of one's own skin sloughing off in droves in the wake of such a severe burn. in the back of her mind, clarke registers a deep respect for this rita's determination — just to immediately stricken that thought, because she can't waste time feeling for these others. there is a stark line drawn in the sand here; on one side, the doppelgangers, and on the other stand the people she's doing this for. her rita is a cagey beast as likely to send off a fireball as she is to not, but she's a different girl entirely. she's good, and funny, and thinks mint toothpaste sandwiched between two cookies makes for a proper treat, and picks fights, and is scared of ghosts, and lost in their death match of a pillow fight, and defended her to the ends of the earth while they'd been sunken deep in a ship prison, and loves her best friend to the point of vehemence.

she has to finish this. if only so her friend stops questioning her own mind, because she hadn't been there to fight back against the village, but she can do this. she can do the blood, and withstand the smoke, and take the heat, and commit an atrocity.

two bodies collide and clarke succeeds in knocking this rita off balance. they're sent sprawling; rita screams, and clarke just grunts with the effort it takes her to shake off the impact and set her mind to putting the few inches and pounds she has on her adversary to good use. she hasn't grappled on the ground like this since she'd fought for her life against staci pratt in his dissociative state; there's no skill involved, just instinct and adrenaline narrowing her field of vision. the other girl thrashes and to a point, clarke allows it; keeps her left arm lashed across her torso but allows rita to writhe and squirm, weathers any kicks to her shins she has to take before managing to hook a leg behind the other's knee to further strangle her movements. all until the moment presents itself to jut out her right hand for rita's burnt and blistering forearm and twist. she can feel skin part from flesh beneath her palm, she can smell the crispy and oddly pork-like scent of a person partially cooked, and can finally chance freeing up her left hand to dig at her waistline for a blade.

somehow, the etraya-issued knife in the pocket of her cargo pants hadn't twisted and lacerate clarke's thigh in the fall. she grapples with a sweat-slicked palm to get a good grasp on the hilt, yanks it out and — despite wanting to feel as sick about this as the knot in her stomach insists she should, ultimately sounds rather unmoved. )

Sorry.

( unmoved. cold. detached. and mostly just angry, because these doubles were never supposed to be here in the first place. something bright and sharp and murderous glints in the blue of her eyes in their last second face to face, then clarke stabs down and hits true; feels the blade meet the resistance of rita's ribcage and break through to puncture her heart. )

[myagic]

[There's nothing graceful about the struggle; Rita's unsinged arm flails wildly, grabbing for any purchase, and she kicks at Clarke's legs. If her head was clearer, it might feel like a mockery that Clarke allows her to fight in vain for this long, but as it is, pain and anger cloud rational thought-

And that only doubles when Clarke retaliates. Rita contorts against her as she shrieks, and the shriek cuts itself off into a whimper. She struggles again, bucking side to side as tears stream down her face, and when she cracks her eyes open, it's to a water-blurred blade against a smouldering backdrop of her home. Sorry, Clarke says without sounding so at all, and Rita chokes out an agonized cry-]

Why?!

[She barely has the space to think, neurons overwhelmed by one single limb--until distraction comes sudden and all too final in the plunge of the blade into her heart. The air is forced out her lungs, heart spasming around metal, and she twitches and flails a couple more times.

And then she goes limp, face frozen in contorted agony, and her body starts to dissipate into the ether, blending in with the floating embers.]

wraps this up

[skaikru]

( the way rita cries out in abject fury mixed with almost childish confusion... that should hurt.

the way the body of someone who looks exactly like her friend — to the point it doesn't even look wrong, that is her friend — starts to melt into nothingness should hurt too. and later it will. at some point by the end of this evening clarke will be a sniveling mess biting back screams as she actually digests all she'd done on this dreary, damp day. but right now she's sprawled out in the middle of a house fire, watching the other girl's face dissolve like cotton candy placed in water and all she can think about is slipping her fingers between the dissipating flesh of rita's neck and yanking off the collared blastia.

the mage shack this rita had somehow manifested in etraya with her arrival shudders and wheezes overhead as fire digs itself into the wooden bones of the structure, and once clarke starts coughing she can't seem to stop. smoke floods her mouth and nose, pricks at her eyes and extracts the closest she can manage in terms of crying with a few tears of irritation. the deed is done and there's no body to worry about burying, but it still takes a moment to pick herself up from the floor and orient herself. she watches the shelves burn, parchment scrolls shrivel and smoke, flames dance along the walls and thinks to herself that at least a stab through the heart was quick. if she dies here too, it's going to suck.

so she tries for the door, only to find the metal knob heated to the point of scalding and drawing her hand back with a hiss. that's not good, but a nearby window and a large yet-unburnt tome make for a decent exit in a flurry of broken glass. it's honestly surprising, with the adrenaline fallout and smoke inhalation sending her head for a bit of a loop, that she manages to haul herself out without anything more than a few jagged cuts in her pants. and outside, sucking in short breaths of fresh air, clarke spares one moment to look back through the glass. back to where rita'd laid, burning the image into her minds eye and bitterly adding one more tally to her long running list of people she'd killed.

then the ceiling whines and a few beams crash down in that exact spot. fire rules, fire ruins. fire eats and fire demands and fire is forever hungry.

blastia in hand, clarke spares a thought — she remembers the spell rita'd used to evoke cannons jets of water all that time ago, she'd always wanted to try it. but she squeezes the gem in her hand and turns to retreat into the encroaching darkness of early afternoon — before anyone else comes this way, drawn by what they might not recognize as a funeral pyre. let it burn. she has one more name on her list, and stopping now may mean she never sums up the will to continue. )