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apocalypsehowcomm2023-01-15 10:39 pm
archonloaf) wrote in apocalypsehowcomm2023-01-15 10:39 pm
Log - Arrival Catch-All (OTA / B3)
Who: Urianger & Open / B3 Residents
When: Monday January 16th
Where: A: ADI, Demolition zone | B: Apartment B3 | C: ADI, various
Summary: Confused giant nerd arrives in Gloucester
Warnings: Spoilers for FFXIV: Endwalker. Likely mention of death, grief, suicidal ideation and apocalypse-scale disaster
A: Arrival - ADI Demolition Zone, OTA
This is not where he’s supposed to be; the disappointment comes as a swift blade between his ribs.
It was, he will concede, perhaps wishful thinking to imagine he might have lingered on beside the Warrior of Light as their journey continued, but that not being the case his soul should, by rights, have returned to the Aetherial Sea, no? There to reunite with the others - Thancred, Twelve-willing Moenbryda, perhaps Master Louisoix himself - before memory and self are swept away and the cycle begins anew.
But this is not the calm blue embrace of the Aetherial Sea (and the fact he knows how that embrace should look and feel is testament to quite how remarkable the last few days have been). This is rubble, and chain, and the chill bite of cold air on his exposed back, and Urianger is hopelessly, helplessly confused.
Sigh. He pinches his brow, and starts counting to 10 to try and clear his mind. He is supposed to be the smart one, after all. If anyone can figure this out, it’s probably him, right?
B: Housing - Apartment B3 (Rue, Tim, Monday Night Football)
In retrospect, it should have been obvious; it's not the first time he's been forcibly yanked from one world to another to try and fight an apocalypse, though it's certainly the gentlest (and somehow, oddly, all the much worse for the absence of pounding headache and insistent plea). No rest for the wicked, isn’t that how the saying goes?
So he reads the paper, listens to the speech, tries to absorb what he can (though as calm as his exterior is on the inside much, too much, of those first few hours is a blur of Twelve’s sake, haven’t I earned a rest? indignation and why aren’t the others here too? grief and if I’m not dead I should be there still, what if Etheirys falls? panic) and in due course is deposited outside what he’s told will be his home for the duration. No doubt he cuts a mildly ridiculous figure - all 6 foot 6, pointed ears and purple facial tattoo of him, the generic black hoodie purchased to cover his robe both too broad for his slight frame and too short for his elezen-scale torso (though he is quite fond of this pouch pocket on the front; it lets him hide how much his fingers are twisting round each other as he fidgets with his rings), a backpack containing basic supplies and his various foci slung across his shoulders.
Inhale. Exhale. Unclench the jaw, lower the shoulders. His is not Thancred’s easy confidence, nor Moenbryda’s irrepressible spirit (and Twelve, both their absences are a wound that seems to unscab every time he moves) but he can fake being sociable when he has to. This is just another mission.
So he straightens his spine, affixes a gentle smile, and knocks on the door to B3.
C: Wildcard - ADI (various), OTA
Maybe you encounter this ridiculous creature elsewhere - perhaps in the Library while trying to familiarize himself with how computers work (they’re simultaneously similar enough to and different enough from what he’s used to it’s somehow more difficult than starting from complete ignorance)?
Or perhaps in the Cafeteria devouring Massachusetts Bucket List Adventure Guide or something of that ilk (look, the book selection was pretty sparse, all knowledge is valuable, and beggars can’t be choosers) with considerably more enthusiasm than whatever meal he’s forgotten he ordered?
When: Monday January 16th
Where: A: ADI, Demolition zone | B: Apartment B3 | C: ADI, various
Summary: Confused giant nerd arrives in Gloucester
Warnings: Spoilers for FFXIV: Endwalker. Likely mention of death, grief, suicidal ideation and apocalypse-scale disaster
A: Arrival - ADI Demolition Zone, OTA
This is not where he’s supposed to be; the disappointment comes as a swift blade between his ribs.
It was, he will concede, perhaps wishful thinking to imagine he might have lingered on beside the Warrior of Light as their journey continued, but that not being the case his soul should, by rights, have returned to the Aetherial Sea, no? There to reunite with the others - Thancred, Twelve-willing Moenbryda, perhaps Master Louisoix himself - before memory and self are swept away and the cycle begins anew.
But this is not the calm blue embrace of the Aetherial Sea (and the fact he knows how that embrace should look and feel is testament to quite how remarkable the last few days have been). This is rubble, and chain, and the chill bite of cold air on his exposed back, and Urianger is hopelessly, helplessly confused.
Sigh. He pinches his brow, and starts counting to 10 to try and clear his mind. He is supposed to be the smart one, after all. If anyone can figure this out, it’s probably him, right?
B: Housing - Apartment B3 (Rue, Tim, Monday Night Football)
In retrospect, it should have been obvious; it's not the first time he's been forcibly yanked from one world to another to try and fight an apocalypse, though it's certainly the gentlest (and somehow, oddly, all the much worse for the absence of pounding headache and insistent plea). No rest for the wicked, isn’t that how the saying goes?
So he reads the paper, listens to the speech, tries to absorb what he can (though as calm as his exterior is on the inside much, too much, of those first few hours is a blur of Twelve’s sake, haven’t I earned a rest? indignation and why aren’t the others here too? grief and if I’m not dead I should be there still, what if Etheirys falls? panic) and in due course is deposited outside what he’s told will be his home for the duration. No doubt he cuts a mildly ridiculous figure - all 6 foot 6, pointed ears and purple facial tattoo of him, the generic black hoodie purchased to cover his robe both too broad for his slight frame and too short for his elezen-scale torso (though he is quite fond of this pouch pocket on the front; it lets him hide how much his fingers are twisting round each other as he fidgets with his rings), a backpack containing basic supplies and his various foci slung across his shoulders.
Inhale. Exhale. Unclench the jaw, lower the shoulders. His is not Thancred’s easy confidence, nor Moenbryda’s irrepressible spirit (and Twelve, both their absences are a wound that seems to unscab every time he moves) but he can fake being sociable when he has to. This is just another mission.
So he straightens his spine, affixes a gentle smile, and knocks on the door to B3.
C: Wildcard - ADI (various), OTA
Maybe you encounter this ridiculous creature elsewhere - perhaps in the Library while trying to familiarize himself with how computers work (they’re simultaneously similar enough to and different enough from what he’s used to it’s somehow more difficult than starting from complete ignorance)?
Or perhaps in the Cafeteria devouring Massachusetts Bucket List Adventure Guide or something of that ilk (look, the book selection was pretty sparse, all knowledge is valuable, and beggars can’t be choosers) with considerably more enthusiasm than whatever meal he’s forgotten he ordered?
no subject
Not as serious as spending endless nights combing meticulously through a backlog of forum posts and comments, a whole half-year's worth of happenings and new faces needing to get put in his catalog.
Hell, getting lost all up in his own head after Mr. Milton's wake hadn't been part of the plan but it just happened. And then... well, inevitably, Monday night rolled around again. And a football game was on.
Tim honestly couldn't tell Rue when the last time was he had actually dedicated time to a game. He had sheepishly reminded them it was no big deal, really, but there was enthusiasm on the other end aaaand... Tim, a quarter of the game in, only felt a little like having the earth open and swallow him up.
He liked football games. He liked Rue.
But he could be doing more with his time than reciting (shockingly good-naturedly) the purposes behind the team uniforms and the referee's calls. It felt weirdly stifling to be sat on a good couch with a kind... person, watching and putting focus towards something inconsequential and still... enjoyable. Like he didn't deserve it. Which Tim's not entirely sure he does on account of
the door.
"I've got it!"
Right, Rue could've heard him just fine without the exclamation but it will give a moment for the Unknown outside to brace themselves.
Tim is riddled with paranoia thank you very much and if this is an unwanted intrusion then he'll be damned to put Rue in the path of it--
He turns the door open, every lock sounding before he does so. He peers out, and the first thing he sees is
"'Sup?"
that way too utilitarian backpack-slash-duffelbag of Stuff that ADI might throw at people who look like they don't have a freakin' clue. Curious but not unguarded, Tim swings open the door to B3 just a little more. To show off the newest acquisition to Rue, more than to let this... other freakishly tall dude right on it. Long arms. Tim will stay out of immediate range.
"You new?"
Like the answer isn't... obvious.
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Which is exactly why they they agreed to a standing Monday Night Football invitation. Even if the sport itself doesn't excite them - Tim's explained it enough, but Rue still doesn't full understand the rules - they enjoy the time spent with their roommate, bonding over something he enjoys and is so knowledgeable of. It doesn't feel like a waste of time if they get to spend it together.
The knock comes and Tim leaps up to answer the door, just like the gentleman he is. Rue preens a bit from the couch, looking delighted at how polite and well-mannered their young friend is, though their expression shifts to something else once they see the person on the other side of the door.
"Oh!" Rue steps up behind Tim and looms behind the young man, eyes dark and large as they stare unblinkingly at the newcomer. An unfamiliar face, tall and skinny and dressed in black, looking perhaps a touch lost with his standard-issue ADI pack. It isn't too difficult to imagine why he's knocked.
"A new roommate? Have you been assigned to B-Three?"
Behind them, there's the muffled cheer of a stadium full of people cheering from the television.
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"... 't'is woefully obvious, no? I-"
And then there's Rue, who to Urianger's credit doesn't phase him more than any other New Person, familiar as he is with Hrothgar and Arkasodara and such; they get the same nod, and a slightly more confident smile now he's starting to hit... maybe not his stride, but a passable amble.
"Aye. I am to reside herein until such time as a means to return home might be devis'ed, so I am t-"
The cheer cuts across said passable amble.
"Thou hast company."
Logic dictates there cannot be that many people in such a small space, but logic also dictates that he is dead and none of this is possible. Logic is clearly having a day off. He shifts the backpack on his shoulder, glances back the way he came.
"I can return at a more favourable hour, if thou desire'st space to entertain."
Granted, he has no idea where he'll go until said favourable hour, but there's bound to be a cafe somewhere? Or- Thaliak be kind - a library? Or something.
Sorry I'm late
Another one.
Not another soul drafted to a war that isn't theirs, no, but another person who talks like they stepped out of AP English Lit. Stepped out of Theater Club with too much gusto for their role. Stepped out of a Wizards and Warlocks session believing their character voice is much too cool to leave behind.
There's another small shock of terror when Tim, in a rush to save the dude from feeling unwelcome, says, "Nah, bro, that's just the Patriots fumbling another field goal."
...and because he also, apparently, speaks in tongues, he steps fully aside with the door opening at his back as most it can. The room? Empty. The TV? Hollering with Buccaneers cheers. A man of action, this Timothy Drake. He keeps an embarrassed flush at bay for now, reminding himself that the newcomer is probably suffering and he shouldn't be adding to the feeling of... displacement. Tim clears his throat.
"Come in here, get cozy. And then sit down with us."
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They beam at the newcomer and Tim in turn, proud of how the young man welcomes their new roommate without (audible) complaint.
"Please join us! We insist! You are interrupting nothing. My name is Delloso de la Rue, but you may call me Rue. Everyone does. And this here is my dear friend Timothy Drake. We would be most delighted to have you join us in our home and to share this space with you for as long as you require."
Rue waves a wing out, gesturing for Urianger to join them inside.
"Tim has been teaching me all about Monday Night Football! You simply must come join us."
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Urianger, on the other hand, is very much not used to places feeling busy. Or, at least, to a different sort of busy - the kind where people pass through on their way somewhere else, rather than reside. It's weird. These two are being far, far kinder than he, a stranger foisted upon them by the vagaries of their new employers(? Is that the right word?) really deserves (and that unkind voice he's heard since he was tiny, but hasn't yet realised is louder here, says that it's just a matter of time before he screws up and they, seeing the real him revealed, think better of it). He glances between them, committing the names to memory, and gives another nod.
"If thou art certain; my thanks." One hand over his heart (fingers wrapped anxiously around the backpack strap) he bows - "Urianger Augurelt, at thy service" - before stepping into the room, glancing around. The box that the cheers emanate from is probably the most interesting thing, and where his attention inevitably ends back up, but he's doing his best to get a general sense of the space.
ssshhh we don't say that L word round these parts
Funny, how he knows he should feel bad about scrutinizing Urianger. Or worse, in any case. But Tim casts that particular social slight as his right; he has seniority.
So it's no surprise, or shouldn't be, that as Urianger straightens up from his bow and Tim blinks, pretending to not have been committing that purple mark to memory, he tries his hand at conviction again. "Things can and will go south in this world, fast," he says. There's a time and place for everything under the sun; it's not Tim's fault that the time and place for-- Monday night football (oh my god they really are having a get-together for Monday night football) is the result of many harmless, evasive coincidences and pure fucking luck.
And Rue, being... kind of pushy and Tim being kind of a pushover himself but that's like, not the point.
"We all came here the same way, and the least we can do is trust each other to try and make our time here suck a little less. Regardless of what we think of the mission."
He jerks his head to the bedrooms, doors closed on all but gesturing where appropriate. "Rue got to call dibs since they got here first and got the best crib. I'm on the other side of the balcony. But I'll get you a TV by the end of the week to put in your room if you want."
no subject
If this is to be their new roommate, Rue isn't going to give him the chance to feel unwelcome in his new home.
"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Augurelt, certainly. Please, come in out of the cold and sit down. Let me put on some tea to help you warm up." Their gaze falls on Tim, beaming warmly at the young man, before they disappear into the kitchen, voice trailing out into the living room while they put the kettle on.
"It is a much smaller space than I am accustomed to, but I hope that it will be to your liking. I admit, when I first stepped into these apartments I was very eager to plan my leave of them, but I have since changed my mind. Spending the time with others has been invaluable and I am so grateful it put Tim and I in the same path. His knowledge of this plane has been invaluable to me, as has his friendship. I hope the both of us can bring such a joyful sense of camaraderie into your life as well."
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"Pray, do not trouble thyself" he smiles at Tim's offer of a TV, dropping his backpack by the couch and taking a seat (back straight, hands folded in his lap, taking up as little space as possible - his gaze continues to roam in a manner that might be thought owl-like if not for, you know, the literal owl putting him to shame). "I am told some funds hath been allocated to assist in acclimation, and my needs are few; if there is aught the house requires, though, it should please me to assist."
C - Computers
No. Stop. [This isn't really his job (at least not today) but Donnie puts down the box of files he'd been carrying and leans around Urianger to take the mouse from him.] You don't need to be so specific with the search function. Use keyword combinations. Put a minus sign in front of what you want to filter out of returns.
Re: C - Computers
Still, at least he's not freaking out about the whole Giant Turtle thing? Kojin, after all, exist, and that's what he assumes this is. A small, smooth, very tech savvy kojin. So he withdraws his hands in a please, go ahead sort of way, brow furrowing slightly as he watches attentively]
... thou presumest I know what I wish not to see.
oh sorry i just realized this was prose and not brackets, i'll switch back
All good! Use whatever is most comfortable and I'll match 💜
"'twas mine intent to make careful study of the Ur Myth of this star, therein to glean by resonance and dissonance whether it bearerth the hallmarks of Etheirys or no. Alas, it seems I did most woefully underestimate the enormity of such a task, or rather of the breadth of scholarship of which one might avail themselves."
Looking at his screen, it seems across several tabs he's effectively (or rather, massively ineffectively) googled "Myths About Crystals", "What is aether?" and "Zodiark (showing results for: zodiac)". The results are... predictably mixed, and one (the aether one) definitely shows evidence of having fallen in a wiki hole.
no subject
Donnie's on the spectrum also. "Hmm." He sinks into the nearest chair, twirling just a bit as he taps his chin and eyeballs Urianger's open tabs. The results honestly are fairly close to what he'd expect from his own home world, which isn't that unusual considering this one just seems to be another split of his own home Earth."From the people I've talked to, admittedly not much in depth, there seems to be two groups of individuals. That is, those of us from some version of this dimension -with an 'Earth,' and similar cities therein- and people from completely different systems." Donnie points at the screen. "Example: it's unlikely you'll ever find a reference to a 'Zodiark' that isn't in rooted in fiction. Mythology isn't my typical wheelhouse, but I'm not exactly unlearned."
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Well, yes. Okay. That makes sense, and on some level he knew it already, but it had been a pleasant fiction to cling to - were this one of the Fourteen, then he already knows how to get home, he just can't do it yet. But if it's something else entirely..
He sighs, massages his temples. "So I had begun to suspect. Hath this 'Earth' any precedent for such a confluence, or do we tread now into waters as-yet uncharted?"
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"Generally? With a gradual convergence of aethyric mien, and the stronger line devouring the weaker. Though in such instances, in our experience, hath the myriad strands ever sprung from a single source - a furcation, indeed, may be the better analogy. Of this 'Earth' are we entirely ignorant."
np, hope you're doing better!!
He straightens up, tapping the monitor frame lightly. "If you're looking for how it's possible to be on a planet that doesn't even seem related to yours at all, you're not gonna find specifics in here. Or methods. Nothing outside of unrelated fiction that wouldn't address your concerns directly."
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A sensible man might infer that the thing to do is accept your lot right now and make the best of it, but flying in the face of impossible odds always has been a Scion specialty.
He lets out a long sigh, pinches his brow again - "... my thanks, for thy candour."
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Donnie shoves himself up from the chair to collect his box of files once more, resolutely not looking at Urianger's screen so he doesn't give in to the urge to just do all of the potential research for this guy. He should probably do his job, pretend like he's a good boy so he can get rid of his ADI baby-sitter. The dude doesn't need help. It's not Donnie's problem. He doesn't need to fix it.
..................GOD, okay- "Fine, Why don't we compare notes after I'm done? You obviously are familiar with travel between dimensions or worlds or whatever it is you call it, and that intrigues me. In exchange, I'll answer whatever questions you have to the best of my considerable ability. Deal?"
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"If it is no burden on thy part I shouldst be glad to speak further at thy convenience. For now, do not let me detain thee."
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timeskip?
Absolutely!
"My apologies for the delay; shall we?"
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He just nods and pushes off the wall to walk in pace with the ridiculously tall elf dude, who did not look this tall while sitting down, and finishes his texting. ...and starts another one. "I assume you got the standard run-down from ADI personnel when you showed up. Anything unclear about that?"
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Finally looks up at Urianger. "There's about a thousand different myths of how this planet came to be, but the truth of it is that four-point-five billion years ago, the solar system stabilized and enough gas and particulate matter gathered for gravity to engage and compress it into the ball we now call Earth." Shrugs and returns his attention to his phone. Pulls up some articles in browser tabs to double-check his numbers. "I guess it's impossible to completely rule out the possibility of that 'confluence' event you mentioned having ever occurred, but neither myself nor most other people on this Earth or my own are aware of it."