ataraxionlogs | EVENT: BIA ▒ STERN

CHARACTERS: Ensemble production!
LOCATION: The stern areas of the ship
WARNINGS: Disturbing imagery, violence, psychological trauma, gore, etc.
SUMMARY: Characters have to fight to find their way back to each other from being increasingly isolated and plagued by their deepest fears and most hopeful dreams.
NOTES: May 27 onwards.

An echoing boom comes from deep in the middle of the ship, shakes its way through the trees and waters of the Oxygen Gardens, down into the maze of walkways and mechanics that make up the Engineering Complex. A sense of danger rolls through with it, enough to make you pause in your work, set down tools or supplies, ignore the thrumming pain in your head to find out what.

Trapped far away from the comforts of beds and kitchens and slow approaching necessity of gravcouches, you only have each other to turn to. But soon that grows difficult, turnings leading you off path, door slamming shut behind you. In the increasing isolation panic swells like an infection up through your mind-- but then soothes. You find your way into an unexpected comfort, the company of a long-gone friend, an old home filled with happy memories. You linger, drift into contentment, and yet it still can't calm one deep nagging doubt: you aren't safe where you've found yourself.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

hallways for bucky barnes

[ This is what Fenris was made for. His skin was layered with lyrium, like a runed sword, so he would be able to hold his own against magic. He's a triumph of ingenuity. A slave capable of making magisters shake with fear. Danarius' pet widowmaker. And now he has a gun.

But Danarius—this version of him, whatever it's made of—has something else. He has the ship. Fenris runs out of bullets bringing him down, turning corners and finding him again, robes clean and face unmarred. He leaves a dagger buried in his neck to the same effect. His head pounds. His eyes bleed. After a day of cat and mouse he's exhausted, cornered, and desperate enough that when he has the sense—inexplicably—that someone may be nearby, he latches onto it. ]

There now, [ Danarius says. The leather-and-chain collar in his hands isn't for decoration. The Qunari know how to shut down a mage, and it works just as well on Fenris. ] Be still, lad. We can fix this.

[ When he's close enough, Fenris bites his arm. ]

oxygen gardens for anyone

[ Other elves—not naming names, but the other ones, you know—might look more at home in the oxygen gardens. They might enjoy the smell of dirt. They might know what any of the plants are called. They might not mind the bugs, or at least coexist with them peacefully, instead of considering every bug that gets too close a personal enemy. That might be why Fenris doesn't get along with other elves.

Or it might be for the same reasons he doesn't get along with most everyone else: he's standoffish, even now, even knowing it could hurt him. He stands as far from the makeshift camp as he can without losing sight of it, beside a thick patch of trees and vines that keeps him shaded from the fluorescent lights. It helps, but not enough. There's still the humidity. He ends up with his jumpsuit unfastened, top half hanging lose like a sweatshirt tied around his waist (with a tank top underneath, no one get excited), covering the daggers and handgun hanging from either hip.

He keeps his eyes shut most of the time and holds very still unless he's twitching his nose or one ear to frighten a bug. When that won't stop the tickling, he checks for blood. ]

[He'd spotted Fenris close to the camp, but not all that close. Prickly, lonesome Fenris. The place might be going to hell, but some things never changed.

Sebastian was similarly dressed, it being too hot even for his Free Marcher sensibility. He was struggling, fears about the future coming to the forefront. Always fear about mages, and what they could do. Fear about his path, unknown as it was.

Being around people helped, barely.]

Fenris. [No point asking if he was alright, he wouldn't get an answer from his friend.]

Sebastian.

[ He doesn't open his eyes. That's more of a compliment than an insult. He trusts Sebastian enough not to keep an eye on him—an ear, maybe, tipping his head to point one in his friend's direction, but not an eye. ]

How's your head?

[The level of trust Fenris put in him was touching. He knew his friend well enough to realise that he wouldn't do that to just anyone, let himself be in the slightest vulnerable.

But he frowned at Fenris' comment,] My head? Aching. Yours as well?

[ Fenris nods, then does something—a very small pinchy something—with his eyebrows to indicate that he regrets that decision. He opens his eyes as an afterthought, and looks Sebastian over with the same cursory care he would use checking for wounds after a fight. ]

I don't understand any of this.

[ The headaches, the bleeding. What people are saying on the network about membranes and presences. ]

[He recognized that pained expression, mostly because his own matched it, and he carefully sat down on the ground next to Fenris.]

All I know is that my head has been hurting since it started. [The rest? That is beyond him. He barely understands the network, after all.]

[ Making it back to the gardens seemed a godsend, at the time, but when she returns all is but the same. People are here, Galadriel, Mira.... But not all, and they are still stuck here, still trapped.

It's not a good feeling for an elf who had only lately tasted freedom. Or one who had been reminded of its lack only days before.

She's wandering, restless, when she comes upon the elf. She hasn't met him--she would remember: his hair, his expression, his skin--and the latter, that felt like--

She stops in her tracks, wariness warring with some kind of curious, desperate need. His eyes are shut, and just when she's decided to leave him be, the decision is made for her. The black griffon hatchling pops up from its sling on her back, chirping loudly in greeting. Her hands tighten on her staff in a wince before she follows suit. ]

...Are you all right?

[ If Fenris had opened his eyes before she spoke, he might not have recognized her. He might have been too distracted by the griffon, by the fact that she's an elf, by the staff. But his eyes are closed, at first, and her voice is all he has to judge by, so he remembers: Anderfels, Grey Warden recruit. Mage sympathizer.

Opening his eyes answers any lingering confusion he might have has as to why. Mages who know they're dangerous exist, surely, but Fenris hasn't met many. Of course she sympathizes if she is one. ]

Yes. [ It's short. Dismissive. Go away. But then the creature peering over her shoulder earns his attention, and his flat, disinterested stare turns—a little interested, at least, if not friendly. ] What is that?

[ His voice places him, where his appearance had not. They had discussed politics on disagreeing sides, but still in a far more civil way than she was used to. He had been helpful, too, she remembers. Polite to her, if not friendly. That alone she would appreciate.

For that, where she would be wary, she instead tries to be open. ]

Sorry to disturb you then. She's a baby griffon. [ She reaches around to snag Revas, tucking her into her arms instead of her perch on Valya's shoulder. Valya looks down at the griffon in wry affection. ] And a troublemaker.

A griffon.

[ The repetition is a little skeptical. Given she's from the future, not the past, he assumes she'll understand why—unless they're breeding griffons in the gardens these days. ]

A griffon from Thedas?

[ He's not the first to express surprise--or doubt. Valya nods in turn. ]

She's from Thedas. Her and her near dozen siblings. The last ones left.

[ She's not unwilling to explain why--or how. But she doesn't know how to start. It's easier to... ]

...I'm Valya. I don't think I introduced myself to you before.

[Dasha approaches Fenris cautiously. The man does not exude friendliness, and Dasha's in enough pain as it stands--he's not in the market for a fight. Or even a raised voice, given the intensity of his near-continuous headache.

He stands a little ways away from Fenris, neither behind nor in front of him, but just a few feet to the side. Close enough to be heard, even with his soft-spoken voice.]

There's an easier way.

EVENT: BIA ▒ STERN

fenris | ota + closed

Fenris, my old friend...

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oxygen gardens

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