TDM 003

[etrayamods]

⏵ arrival ⏴ NOTES\WARNINGS: Space horror, existential horror, clown horror, potential graphic violence & psychological trauma. Please add additional warnings as needed within threads. Your arrival does not go as anticipated. While most Etrayans wake up in the hospital, you find yourself somewhere else entirely. Not within the city bubble, not on the planet, but in a desolate room aboard a space station. There’s an endless mechanical whirring that can be heard from anywhere from just behind the walls, although the cause of the noise itself is difficult to discern. Instead of Aurora’s voice telling you of your situation, you are greeted by a man running past the sliding door of your room, opening it, and potentially a couple of others along the hallway. He stops just at the edge of the hallway, a hesitant smile on his lips as he raises a hand to the back of his hair. "Hey! Sorry about the uh–unexpected vacation? Trip? You can call me Alex, I’m one of the hands here aboard the Titan Eight. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but you don’t really belong here. Aaaaand neither do we! Haha, so at least we’ve got that in common. Right? We’re uh, stuck in the gravitational pull of a black hole of some sort and haven’t found a way out yet, and we keep getting random people pulled aboard." His hand smacks the wall next to him, and it opens up - revealing small handheld communication devices lined up behind it. "As you can probably tell, we’re getting used to it. Anyway. Feel free to take one of these, and read up a bit on the ship if you want. There’s a map, you were given a translator—" With a hand dropping to his collar, where a small button rests, "soon as we found you down below. Didn’t want you waking up and freaking out, did we? Just don’t break anything, please? Or don’t break it worse than it is. If this thing gets a big enough hole in it, or we run out of oxygen, or it, gods forbid, explodes, we’re all dead. I’ve got a thing I’m on the way to, but our AI, Aria, can lend you a hand with whatever. Just click her little icon on the comm. She's a bit basic, but she gets the job done." With a little salute, Alex turns himself around to run further down the hallway, leaving new arrivals to themselves and their little communicators. Looks like we’re not on Etraya anymore, Toto. For new arrivals, they will find themselves waking up in the sleeping quarters of Titan Eight, a space station that has found itself trapped just outside of what looks like it must be a black hole. The station is running low on supplies, but it has been for a very, very long time. Or at least, the crew seems to think it has. They’ll say they have two weeks' worth of supplies left for those currently on board, except every time they go back to their supplies, it’s still two weeks left regardless of the amount of time it’s been since they’ve last checked it. Even the crew seems to think it’s odd, looking at one another in confusion every time they’re counting their stock only to realize that it’s still drastically low but never too low. How long have they been here? Years, some seem to think. There are numerous children on board, some as young as nine, but no one on board is aging either. They have tried to track how much time has passed before, but it seems they’ve never been able to track it successfully. Journal entries all carry the same date even as crew members try to mark them differently — marks made on the ship and on bodies fade after midnight as if they had never been there to begin with. This is where the mission, and Etrayans comes in: remove the space station from the black hole’s gravitational pull. There are no further instructions, no limitations on how to accomplish this, and they are not given a time frame. Newcomers will not have this mission information on hand until someone who has stepped foot on Etraya proper can inform them. All of those who drop onto the ship were originally meant to be brought to Etraya and similar city bubbles, but the same pull that keeps the ship by the black hole seems to be preventing whatever method Echo and Aurora are using to get people to Etraya and is instead pulling them here. Titan Eight is not just an average space station. It was built by residents of Caerys 2, and used to serve as a vacation home for those who can afford the luxury rooms in the fourth quadrant. The first quadrant houses a carnival of sorts, the second hosts numerous vendors, and the third is where the crew, and unexpected guests, can be found during their off time. The fourth quadrant houses some of this galaxy's richest families. A mother and her two sons walk through the hallways, carrying umbrellas despite there being no natural light on board, but a closer look at them might explain it: they're so pale, their skin looks clear, dark black veins visible through skin. Their sclera are black, and their 'hair' isn't hair but long black feathers. Numerous guests aboard the ship don't appear to be human; rather, species' of all kinds. An engineer is more dragon than anything else: his long body extends throughout the engine facility, taking up a significant amount of space, but given the dragon himself seems to be leading all efforts to keep the ship running, everyone else tries to work around him. ⏵ whirlwind whimsy ⏴ During the daytime, Titan Eight is fun. Numerous rides are strewn about the wide open area: a massive carousel, ferris wheel, bumper cars, and various others. A seer will offer to tell your future, and performers gather in the big top, showing off their ability to bend themselves into unnatural shapes, or their lack of fear as they balance on thin wire high above the ground without a net to catch them, should they fall. One popular ride is the Tunnel of Love: a small boat that only fits two and steers itself through a tunnel that goes under the carousel. Soft, serene tunes play as various images play over the tunnel walls. While those who have been aboard Titan Eight for a significant period will likely see hearts, short videos of people holding hands, watching the sunset while swinging together - it's not the same for those displaced onto the space station. Instead, they'll see doorways into other worlds: an underwater city full of humanoid beings, a city bubble that looks like a small suburban area, a city built out of trees, or perhaps their own worlds: images of what they may be missing out on, or what could be. The House of Mirrors is also popular: a carnival worker will tell those passing by that it shows you other versions of yourself - who you could be, what you might become, who you once were, or the person you wish you were. Rumor has it the mirrors will whisper to you, telling you what you can do to avoid certain outcomes, or how to achieve others. There are also numerous carnival games set up: Balloon Darts, Ring Toss, Rifle Ranges - anything you could imagine at a carnival is set up somewhere. And given this is meant to be a luxury ship, everything is free of charge. ⏵ midnight entertainment ⏴ Titan Eight being stuck in the pull of the black hole doesn't seem to be the only problem. When the clocks onboard read 0000 hours, everything shifts. The fun carnival feels eerie. Children's laughter can be heard bouncing off the walls — sometimes sounding bright and cheerful; other times sounding downright sinister. Crew members and carnival workers suggest staying out of the first quadrant. After 2230 hours, they exit their workstations and find other spaces to hunker down in for the night. No one wants to be around when the excessively tall clown walks out of the House of Mirrors, dragging other clowns of various shapes and sizes right through the mirrors themselves. Carnival workers will explain they have tried breaking the mirrors but given how the ship resets at midnight, attempts to destroy everything have proved futile. The clowns themselves are odd. The tallest one has a smile filled with blood and a laugh that sounds like it belongs to a young child rather than the creature it is. It carries around a bloodied carving knife but doesn't reach for anyone who goes near it. Some clowns cry and sob, ripping fingernails from their nailbeds as they claw at the door leading into the central hub. Others laugh and scream, wandering around the open carnival area to cause damage wherever possible. Some hurt each other, or the other creatures wandering the carnival area. Most of them will attack on sight. During the nighttime hours, this is their area. And yet many remain around the House of Mirrors, guarding it, as if there is something inside of it that they must protect. Getting past them is near impossible: when one clown falls, two more rise out of the mirrors. When the mirrors are destroyed, the tall clown drags its hands against the broken pieces of glass, helping it to reform. By 0500 hours, the clowns have made their way back into the mirrors, taking along with them whatever they had been so protective of. ⏵ toucan play that game ⏴ While the fourth quadrant is generally reserved for guests who can afford to pay for the space and the staff who manage it, with the station stuck, they've opted to open the area to allow others to come and go during the day. In the center is a massive aviary, filled with birds of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Some of them have no feathers yet still manage to fly, some look as if they should have gone extinct thousands of years ago, and others are - completely unidentifiable, alien. Most of them are peaceful. But not all of them. Off in the far Southwest corner is a bird with three eyes, a long black tail, and a beak full of massive teeth. While it will not attack others, it will open its beak and speak in a voice that mimics one familiar to those wandering past it: a friend, a sibling, or someone who had long since passed, and says the last thing they remember that person saying to them, repeating it over and over again as long as they stay close to it. Outside of the aviary, there are exercise facilities, sunning rooms, a massive swimming pool and hot tub, areas for pets to rest and play with one another, and a large ballroom where dances are thrown once weekly. Residents dress up in their best gowns and suits, don masks, and dance away the stress of their situation. Staff and displaced are invited to join, although staff are encouraged to come to every other dance, so there are still enough to man the ballroom. ⏵ current player notes ⏴ Aurora approaches those currently stationed on Etraya individually, informing them of the mission at hand. She tells them that she is capable of releasing them much in the same way Echo originally pulled them onto the planet, but with a 'tether' still attached to keep them from getting lost too long. Time does not function the same way on the ship as it does on the planet; she suspects their time being on the ship won't register as any time at all to those remaining on Etraya, and that when they are pulled back, it will likely be as if they never left to begin with. Current characters are not pulled to Titan Eight during missions happening in game but in the downtime between them. Small rescue ships are docked at the Southeastern island, and she will send individuals off a few at a time. The ships will pass through the barrier without issue, but won't travel far at all outside of Etraya before they blip out of existence, and reappear in Titan Eight's orbit. They will also get a friendly introduction speech from Alex, and a ship communicator for any network-related needs while aboard Titan Eight! Earpieces will not work aboard the ship. When characters are pulled back, it will not be on rescue ships. Instead, they will find themselves suddenly dissipating at midnight, as the rest of the changes aboard the ship shift back to how they had been originally. The rescue ships disappear at midnight, along with the player characters. ⏵ NOTES ⏴ This TDM covers June to September. The TDM is game canon, meaning everything happening above is occurring within the game properly, and threads can be kept as game canon even if a character does not app. Time does not function the same on Titan Eight as on Etraya! Characters can be brought onto Titan Eight at any time and stationed there long before any of the Etrayans arrive to assist. For any questions relating to the contents of this log, please reply to our mod queries comment. All other questions can be directed to the FAQ. This is going to be an ongoing plot, which characters are welcome to try and solve, even if they aren't yet in the game!

Comments

Riley Grace Davis | Worm

[beagoodgirl]

ARRIVAL

[What does one do, if they find themselves awake in a strange an alien place, far away from everything they know? A single, rambling explanation that answers nothing substantial at all? What if you had some important things going on, back home? Maybe you'd get angry. Maybe you'd get scared. Maybe you'd dedicate every waking moment to trying to find a way back. Or maybe you'd totally shut down.]

Wow! Spaaaace...

[Riley Grace Davis, however, who has no applicable skills for resolving her intergalactic (interdimensional, perhaps?) case of being extremely lost, instead chooses to make the most of this impromptu vacation from her parole. Right now, that means that her face is pressed against one of the station's exterior windows, making eye contact with the black hole.

Slyly, her gaze slides over to the nearest person.]

...is actually pretty lame, huh? Or, this part of it is. Whatev.

WHIRLWIND WHIMSY

A

[A couple months ago, getting closer to a year now, Bonesaw would've had the time of her life tearing across the stalls and games, stuffing her face full of funnel cake, clapping at the performers antics.

Of course, she also would've been turning people into pretzels or something along those lines, so it's probably for the best that Riley instead looks consideringly at the bumper cars.]

Don't you think they're being really stingy? The tech for all this is total overkill! [She huffs, crossing her arms. Her eyes twinkle with purpose. Or maybe it's just boredom. Or malice. Or all three.] I'm sure they won't mind if I borrow some parts, just for the day before it all gets put back to normal.

[This is still better than pretzel-ing people, so basically she's immune to being criticized. In her unbiased opinion.

So, naturally, she turns big, round, mismatched eyes towards her current victim of conversation. She's so small, see?]

You'll help me out, right?

B

[Alternatively, you'll catch Riley staring at the tunnel of love. She looks almost offended by it.

Actually, she just straight up looks offended, no almost. She's looking at it like it just called her something very rude. Even so much as passing by her in that state will get her talking, attention ripped away from the attraction and towards the unfortunate passerby.]

Hey, over here! [She waves, with both arms. She needs to do this, you see, because she is very small and can potentially be easily overlooked.] I need your help with this stupid fucking tunnel, which seems to be the center of some... anomalous, paracausal phenomenon. I wanna see how it reacts to others who aren't meant to be here.

[Her frown deepens, but the crease of her brow relaxes.]

It could be our ticket out of here, potentially, but this is way beyond the scope of what I do. Still gotta give it a shot though, right?

TOUCAN PLAY THAT GAME

[Absent of anything to do sans exploration, the only surprising part of Riley ending up in the aviary is how long it took her. But, gosh, isn't there an awful lot to do in this place? Maybe it isn't that much of a surprise.

Then there's the simple fact that this place is bad for her impulse control. Ancient creatures roosting as if it's natural, featherless freaks taking to impossible flight, and things that obey no biological rhyme or rhythm that would be recognizable to a human, which make them achingly nostalgic to her.

This dose of the familiar in a place otherwise so terrifyingly alien, of course, could only end up in her letting down her guard. She should've known better, really; Riley never did like anesthetics, after all. So when that toothsome bird she was having a staring contest with croons a hoarse, broken, desperate—]

Be a good girl.

[—well, that prompts a reaction out of her.

A bit of surprise, sure. Maybe it even gets to her a little bit, she can admit that. But for the most part?

Bonesaw, starved for months of anything novel and monstrous, reaches for the bird with an overwhelming need to turn it inside out until she gets how it works. Until it's beautiful. Until it's hers. Until it's art.]

WILDCARD

If none of these appeal to you, or you have your own idea, hit me up at GeneralTrash and we can hash it out!

Toucan Play That Game

[equivo]

[ The first time he glimpsed Bonesaw through a gap in the carnival events, Krouse had been ready to bolt. On the hyper-specific list of blonde supervillains he'd rather not have an impromptu reunion with, she's a strong contender for the top slot not because of specific animosity, but sheer unhinged, batshit threat.

He hasn't forgotten the smell of that room, or how he'd been interesting enough to tag as the last grab for the road before an intervention he can't expect a second time rearranged those plans.

But then he'd seen Amy come into view, having an apparently mostly lucid conversation he couldn't overhear, and his retreat had been muddled with confusion.

Strange times make strange bedfellows. The absence of reconstructed clown horrors wandering the halls during the day might bode well. Maybe, somehow, Bonesaw's turned a slightly saner leaf. Maybe she thinks this is fun enough on its own. Maybe Amy implanted her with a virus that will make her melt into sludge if she gets too worked up. He kind of hopes it's the last one. But whatever it is, when he catches a second glimpse of blonde hair below eye level, he's come around to the possibility it's not an immediate, instant situation.

That's until he sees the look on her face as she reaches for the bird. ]

I don't think it's very polite to grab the wildlife.

[ An impulse. He regrets it. But now that he's said it, he's committed, so he follows it up with a mollifying smile. He's not really good with kids. Bonesaw isn't really a kid, though, so maybe it'll work out. ]

[beagoodgirl]

[Riley goes still at the interruption, but naturally still, certain movements remaining. That... was a very lucky break, actually! She was really about to do something extremely regrettable, when what she needs is to—]

Be a good girl.

[—Her hand twitches, and then slams into her side and away from the bird. Achingly, she wrenches her gaze towards the... guy.]

Oh, duh, silly me. It just looked so interesting I almost couldn't help myself there! Thanks for the catch.

[Her voice and demeanor are, notably, not nearly as affected as he might be recollecting. Though, even if much of the over-the-top childishness is gone, the sharpness in her gaze as she tilts her head at him is mostly the same.

Something is nagging at her. Big time.]

Do I know you? I feel like I know you from something.

[Read: What horrors have I inflicted on you or your loved ones?]

[equivo]

[ There are two options here. The first is to lie to a member of the Slaughterhouse Nine, knowing full well that she will find out he was lying eventually and come up with whatever response she thinks is proportionate to that impoliteness on top of whatever she might want to do with him otherwise. The second is to be marginally honest, revealing himself as one of the people who contributed to severely fucking up their citywide frolic, and dealing with what comes of that here and now.

He wants a cigarette with a sudden wistfulness, regardless of how advisable that might be on a spaceship. It'd be nice to have one while his lungs are still inside of his stupid fucking body. ]

I know Amy Dallon.

[ A soft pedal, to start with. He keeps smiling, aiming for the bland friendliness reserved for erratic strangers on the bus. ]

From back in Brockton Bay. But we don't really bring it up much around other people. Cape life, and all.

We met once. You probably don't remember. It wasn't for long, and that was a while ago, anyway.

[ So maybe bygones can be bygones. He contributed, but not that much. ]

[beagoodgirl]

[Riley blinks up at him, mismatched eyes palpably processing, and then a wonderful grimace blooms on her face.

It makes sense why she remembered this any. Brockton Bay going so completely to shit for them is probably one of like, four or five big pivotal moments in Riley's life.]

No, I remember you now. You're the teleporter, aren't you? Fuck.

[And that explains the particular familiarity. How could she forget an interesting pile of meat? A base with which to build a replacement for another broken toy that could teleport. An action figure with cool parts that got snatched away from her before Bonesaw could use it as she saw fit.

As Jack saw fit. Since she's trying to be honest with herself.

She looks away, and her eyes find the ground.]

You ended up getting away from me pretty cleanly— [In MASSIVELY relative terms. Queen of tact Riley Davis.] —but what I did do, what I planned to do, is unforgivable. So... I'm sorry. I know that doesn't make it better, but I'm sorry and I'm trying to change. Not an excuse, just letting you know.

[equivo]

[ The winding tension that had been ratcheting up Krouse's spine and radiating down into his right palm in the form of a near-panicked itch to be holding cool metal dissipates like cold water thrown onto a red-hot stovetop, billowing up in a cloud of disorientation. ]

What?

[ He heard her perfectly fine. The blurted question hangs for a second as he blinks down at her with eyes shocked round, his heartbeat lurching faster despite the apparent shift in her attitude.

This is the second apology he's received from someone he never would have expected an apology from that he's gotten in the past month. The first was ripped out of Tattletale's mouth by force, and Krouse almost expects to see the insectile mutation of a plushie she'd been clutching latched onto Bonesaw's back or hanging onto her ankle. It's outrageously unlikely, but it seems more plausible than whatever this is.

No sign of it. No clues as to where this is coming from, or what he's supposed to take away from it. For all he knows, it's just another sick little joke with a punchline he's not equipped to get. ]

I - [ He takes a shallow breath, gets a grip. ] Thanks. It's fine. We were the ones who came for you, right?

[ A gross distortion of events, but when in doubt, make the easy concession. He doesn't care about the details of the truth, and he's sure as hell not going out of his way to try to hold anyone accountable. ]

[beagoodgirl]

[He doesn't really believe her.

And, well, fucking duh? What was she expecting? To Trickster, it must be not too terribly unlike the devil, from the bible, appearing before him suddenly to declare his intention to stop being super evil. It's utterly and totally ridiculous.

Her face twitches, but Riley forces herself to not scowl, resulting in something that's almost but not quite a glower and almost but not quite a pout being directed at the dirt. This is the real change, after all. The agonizing, banal, and futile pursuit of even a scrap of atonement for her actions.]

It's not and you weren't, but whatever. It's Riley now, by the way. Just Riley.

And you? Also, what's your story here, anyways? It'd be stupid if I said something that didn't match.

[equivo]

[ Riley.

It's such a normal name to attach to her, this girl not meeting his eyes with a look on her face that isn't straining at the edges with manic malevolence. He half-wishes she'd kept it to herself.

He's not forgetting what she did or what she's capable of. The apprehensive caution isn't going anywhere. But Riley is like Sarah, or Taylor. It's a little bit less comfortable to hold certain possibilities in his head with a real name attached to them. Another degree less comfortable when she's offering to sync up narratives, opening a line of conversation he's been responsible for every time prior to now. ]

...mine's Krouse.

[ If they're getting stories straight. ]

And so far, it's that I'm a rogue. No villainy. No association with our other resident parahumans. It seemed cleaner.

[ The urge to retrieve a cigarette is back. He displaces it into picking at a thread on his sleeve, catching it between forefinger and thumb as he looks down at her, troubled. ]

I also come from further back than everyone else, in terms of time, so I really think I'm missing something here. Did you - quit?

[ It's a blunt, absurd question. People don't quit the Slaughterhouse Nine. It's not that kind of team. But he doesn't know how to square whatever this is with that, because he sure as hell doubts that Jack Slash decided they'd turn over a new leaf mid-ending the world. ]

[beagoodgirl]

[She looks up from the ground, and at— Krouse. A guy with a name, and maybe even friends, dreams. Not just a pile of meat and interesting parts.

Even if those parts are interesting.]

Yep. You're looking at the sole surviving graduate of Jack Slash's very own Slaughterhouse Nine, summa cum laude by default. [She pauses, her face scrunching a bit.] Well, I'm actually not entirely clear on what happened to a couple, and some of the clones survived. But they don't count, and I have seniority anyways.

[equivo]

[ Clones. Fucking of course, it'd somehow involve clones.

Krouse rubs the bridge of his nose, face contorting briefly as he takes that in, swallowing a whole array of smart remarks that spring to mind. None of them are funny or constructive. It's just a reflex like having a nerve tapped, words that come to mind as a smokescreen for having to say anything real. ]

Congratulations. [ Which really isn't much better. He drops his hand, mouth settling into a slightly crooked line instead of the tense smiles of earlier. ] It seemed like a sh- like a cruddy thing to be involved in.

So...if we're exchanging stories, do you have an idea of what you're going with?

[beagoodgirl]

Thanks. Uh, you can swear, by the way. If you feel like it. I don't care anymore.

[It's somewhat more complicated than a clean break, but she figures it might be a good idea to get that out there. That he won't get his salivary glands replaced with soap dispensers in the middle of the night if he keeps on swearing. Important stuff, that.]

And, not really. I dunno, maybe I'll be a rogue too or something. Probably better than being honest.

[She doesn't actually like that idea too much. It feels too easy, too simple. Her sins should be too vast to ever be hidden, and yet...

She shrugs.]

Did you have any ideas?

[equivo]

[ Krouse almost looks like he's about to speak on the subject of swearing, but then he holds his tongue, nodding with a faint creasing around his eyes. He guesses he had been thinking of her past aversion to cursing, on some level, but now that he's off the hook on that front - he's not sure it hadn't partially been that she still looks young enough that swearing around her brushes up against an old, mostly buried boundary.

Ridiculous, considering the shit she's done and who she used to pal around with. She's not even that young. He treasured his library of profanities at the age she looks like she is.

It feeds right into his growing uncertainty about how he's supposed to talk to her with hostilities set aside. He can't treat her like a kid, but she's too experienced and too brilliant to treat like a peer. But giving her the deference of a veteran villain also doesn't seem right. That tension shows in how he holds his shoulders and shifts on his feet, thinking about the answer to her question on more levels than it probably needs. ]

I'd suggest going for being a rogue, but not overcomplicating it. You don't need to come up with a whole story. You're a tinker, you're pursuing personal projects, you're not here to flip over the apple cart.

It'll probably help that you don't look like the type to be hiding anything.

[ He breathes out through his nose, still unsatisfied with his approach. ]

You should know that this place tends to bring up things from our pasts and share them around. There are files on us stored on the computer system below the hospital back on the planet, too. There's no saying what's in yours, but...you should keep it in mind.

[beagoodgirl]

[For a brief moment, Riley tries to think of even a single event in her past that isn't an utterly damning indictment of her character that would destroy any pretension of her being a rogue. She immediately concludes that there isn't.]

Well. In that case, maybe it'll be better if I'm open about parts of it? That I used to do some shady shit—[Understatement of the century, that.]—but that I'm totally normal now. Just so it isn't too weird when some stuff I did gets out, even if I won't include the specifics myself unless something happens. Keep it loose like you said.

[This would be so much easier to sell if she still had the bypass installed on her nervous system. She should bother Amy about that.]

[equivo]

[ She is supposed to be a genius, but it's still something of a relief that she puts that puzzle together by herself. He nods, tucking his hands into his pockets as another degree of tension leaves him. ]

Yeah. That's [ smart; what I did ] reasonable.

People know I went to prison. I've been telling them it had to do with me stealing a car, which is technically sort of true. I haven't been saying which prison, but...yeah.

You can pitch it as a redemption story. People like those.

[ The lack of judgment he's received for his milder revelations has been encouraging, even if he can't count on it. It's still going to be bad. It just might not be catastrophic.

But how far would that extend to Riley, with everything she's done? He hooks a flake of dry skin on his lip with a tooth and worries it loose. ]

And if it comes down to it, it wasn't all you, right? There's your passenger, and there's Jack. It's not a pass, but it's...mitigating.

[beagoodgirl]

[Speaking of why she wants that bypass back, Riley can't keep the scowl off her face at that suggestion.

Because, well, there's a level on which what Krouse said is simply true. A six year old fresh Trigger going up against Jack, with the passenger nudging her along? She never stood a chance, really. And she doesn't want to think about how little of herself actually belongs to her.

Since, to be able to believe that she can actually be better, she needs to believe she had a choice. And if she had a choice, then the blame should belong to her. Not Jack, not Bonesaw; Riley.

Her face schools itself. Moving on.]

Do the people here know about all that stuff? Passengers and powers?

[equivo]

[ She might actually be serious about wanting to do better. That, or it's the old villain tic of not wanting to let anyone else take credit for the work you pulled off. Either way, he has an odd twinge of sympathy. However bad taking ownership of their shit is, it's less humiliating than pretending to have been victims of circumstances.

A victim of circumstances wouldn't have made it as far as they did. Whatever happened to either of them, they found a way to adapt, to make it work. Riley even managed to make it out, to one degree or another. ]

I wouldn't say it's common knowledge? But it's come up in public, yeah. I'd assume anyone who scans the network might know the gist of it.

I don't think they have a detailed explanation on hand, but I don't know who everyone else has talked to, or what they've said. I've given a few people the one oh one on trigger events and parahuman physiology, but I'm not exactly a subject matter expert.

[ A moment's pause. Krouse shifts on his feet, flicking his gaze up to study a seam in the ceiling. ]

It does seem to be a limited phenomenon, receiving your powers as part of an alien invasion. I guess we're lucky like that.

[beagoodgirl]

[She wouldn't actually wish that fate on most people. But she is still immediately filled with an irrational wrath at the fact that apparently nobody else has to deal with that.]

Yay us. Winners of the "worst ever superpower source" competition by a landslide. Go team.

...so, what, do they just do things? [She waves her hand a bit. A little magical gesture.] Like that? No giant alien flesh computer working its bizarre science behind the scenes, their bodies are just like that?

[equivo]

Apparently.

[ Look at the two of them go. First they're both liars, and now they're both bitter. If they hit on a third shared quality, they might be in danger of finding real common ground.

It's such a stupid thought he smiles at it, his eyes dark.

But she's spending time with Amy, and he's starting to see how that might work, despite everything. There's something to shared experiences, however fucked up they are. Mostly shared experiences, besides a few little details he's still keeping to himself. ]

Or they just don't know about the alien flesh computer yet. Maybe you and Amy could -

[ He thinks better of finishing that sentence, eyes twitching away from her. ]

[beagoodgirl]

[And just when they almost had a conversation really going. The stumble there takes the wind completely out of Riley's sails, and reminds her that she's talking to a guy that she only just barely didn't completely ruin forever.]

Yeah, maybe. We're pretty cool like that.

Anyways, it was nice to catch up, but I should probably be going. I've got things on the agenda today other than looking at birds.

[She doesn't.]

Arrival

[ontologically]

[She should have known this would happen.

Part her did know. A very secret part of her even hoped. Amy isn't exactly loaded with friends - hasn't been, ever. She can't quite bring herself to expressly think of Riley that way because of all the strange baggage between them but somehow... it doesn't feel as complicated as Victoria or Lisa.]

Probably should've known you'd turn up eventually.

[She's been... largely sitting this one out. None of her abilities or specialities are particularly relevant to this kind of task, and she's just not particularly interested in slaving over it and driving herself to a breaking point for the third month in a row.]

[beagoodgirl]

[And there's the final, absolute, and definitive reason why Riley feels no pressing need to freak out about all this. Maybe other people would think it's weird for her to feel so completely trusting of such a particularly personal victim of her past atrocities, or the fact that said victim is what amounts to her de-facto parole officer, but they just don't get it.

And that's fine. Nobody else needs to get it. It's not for them, anyways.]

There're easier ways to say that you missed me, you know. [She peels herself away from the window. Nothing strange happens to her skin as she does this, it behaves perfectly normally.] Like... this!

[Arms spread wide, a Riley torpedo is launched at the midsection of one Amy Dallon, set on delivering a critical payload of a massive amount of love bug love hugs.

Somewhere, Blasto isn't rolling in his grave, because there's no way his body received the proper rites. But spiritually speaking, he's going the full gator.]

[ontologically]

Don't recall saying that.

[Hugging her without permission has, historically, gone very poorly. Then again, that was one in a series of hundreds of times that Victoria hugged her in a sudden display of affection.

If Amy modified Riley's body, no doubt she'd just find it funny.

One of the deeply disturbing and somehow relieving things about being around her.]

When did you come from? [Post Scion, clearly.]

[beagoodgirl]

Six months after Scion. I was visiting Jamie, if that helps you place it? After they rebranded the Fairy Queen. Valkyrie, now.

[Riley doesn't particularly let go of the hug to speak. In her body, streaming through her blood is adrenaline, cortisol, and norepinephrine, out from adrenal glands and oozing out her brain. They ebb thin, slowly being processed away as their production begins to lessen.]

...is it fucked up that I'm happy that you're here? It can't have been good for you. But I'm glad you're here.

[ontologically]

A few months after me, then.

[There was talk about it. Amy knew Ciara fairly well, at least as much as anyone knows the Fairy Queen. She remembers a discussion she had with her dad about the prospect of her joining the side of the angels.

So she went through with it. Good to know.]

Honestly, in terms of fucked up things you've said, thought or done, I'd say that ranks pretty low. [She smiles a little, to indicate she's joking. She's... also happy to see Riley again, she realizes. Riley is much easier to deal with than Tattletale or, worse, Victoria. And unlike anyone else in this place, she knows Riley won't judge her.] It's not all bad here. Like, it sucks, but no more than it sucks back home.

[Home being a generous descriptor here.]

[beagoodgirl]

[An undignified scoff of laughter escapes Riley. It's an extremely normal sound.]

Not any worse than the post-apocalypse, huh? Wow. [Finally, slowly, Riley lets go off her hug. She stays decisively in Amy's space, though.] This place might as well be paradise, then. Should we send back postcards?