TDM #1, arc 1.0: we drift like worried fire

[lamentus]

BUFF

Bonded of The Sorrowweld will find that the NPCs are especially friendly to them this month. Seriously, they just keep trying to give you things. It might get annoying.

DEBUFF

For those who are bonded to Tarnished Az-Mehet, you keep seeing shadows out of the corner of your eye on every screen in the ship, even your datapad. Something is lurking.

At first, you feel a pull. In which direction, you do not know. When a portal of shimmering black and glittering stars appears in front of you, it only seems natural to step into it. On the journey, it is as if you see everything: ancient galaxies wheeling through space, cultures born and growing and leaving their planets, lights creeping over landmasses and them winking out all at once. You see the hungry arm of a black hole, an enigmatic smile under a mirrored mask, a fist clenched tight around an endless sword. Fangs shining in starlight, bandaged feet that have traveled so many miles and still remain sturdy, and code shattering under titanium will.

And then your feet touch solid ground again, and what you have seen is suddenly hard to recall, the merest of glimpses springing to mind when you try to think back.

All you know is that you witnessed something enormous, something you probably shouldn't have seen.

As you struggle to refocus your gaze, all you see for a long moment is white. White walls, white floor. Narrow white cots lined up against a wall, screens blinking above them in tones of soothing aqua and mint. You are in a medbay — a highly advanced one, given the lack of bulky machinery — but perhaps the most eye-catching thing about the room is a long window showing endless black and twinkling stars outside.

Before you can give voice to any thoughts, a small robot flutters toward you, and perches on the back of a chair. "Hello, Wayfarer!" the birdform chirps cheerfully. "I imagine you must have many questions; allow me to enlighten you! You have fallen victim to a quantum accident and have been pulled to another universe, but the Ascendants, in their generosity, intercepted your signal and brought you here so that you did not wind up in empty space. You are aboard the Theorem of the Astral Rose; our mission is to explore uncharted space and search for the Song!"

They pause, thinking, their little blue eye aglow, and then brighten.

"Oh! Introductions are in order! I am Starling's Lament in Flight, but you may call me Starling's Lament. I am one of the Hosts of this exploration vessel; we will do everything we can to ensure a safe voyage for you. Unfortunately, at this moment, we cannot send you home. The Ascendants have indicated that their search for the Song may play some key role in doing so." They whistle a merry tune. "Please enjoy your stay!"

REFLECT

When you manage to get your wits about you -- it's a bumpy ride between universes! -- you start to leave the medbay. Starling's Lament has indicated that you are free to explore the ship, and nowhere is off limits to you. As you leave the cool white tones of the medbay behind, a hallway stretches out in front of you. Both sides are transparent, offering a view into the long dark of space beyond. However, unlike deep space, there is currently quite a lot to see.



On the left lays the broad curve of a planet, lush green landmass and white clouds skidding across its surface. Its star is just sinking behind it, lighting up the very edge of its atmosphere in tones of engine-burn orange and ozone blue, as long shadows cast by enormous space elevators creep across the landmasses. Its most eye-catching feature, however, are the hexagonal structures webbed across its surface, connected by fine corridors with all the geometric precision of woven spider's silk. You can just barely see the tiny dots of spaceships flowing around them, docking, embarking, shuttling between them.

"That is the Redline Trading Post." You hear a tiny whisper, and look up to see another robot — a beetleform, this time, with a shiny dotted shell — watching you curiously from its place on the ceiling. In fact, there are a number of other Hosts doing the exact same thing; a snakeform coiled around a barrier rail, a catform with bright yellow eyes peeking around the corner, a chirping droneform hovering some distance down the hallway. They're all fascinated by you. "But we will be departing soon. You will not get to taste the Galactic Snowball Nova-Cream, the shining culinary jewel of Redline. Sorry. I hear it is very tasty."

You look to your right, away from the planet and the Redline post, to gaze out into the depths of space. In the distance, there is a nebula, its gasses lit up in shades of coral pink and deep purple. It is pockmarked with stars both young and old, newborn stellar entities cradled in the depths of its life-making dust. Set against the dark of space, it is a flower in bloom.



It's beautiful, except—

The longer you look at it, the more something nags at the corner of your mind. A memory glances across your thoughts, unbidden. Something you hoped for, maybe; or something you fear. Whatever the memory, as you gaze at the nebula, a small piece of it curls, shaping in response to your memory. It is your face, reflected perfectly. Smiling, or howling in anger, or weeping.

Eventually, the nebula will go back to normal. But for now, it reflects the fears and triumphs of the new Wayfarers, a mirror held up in the darkness of space.

IMBIBE

Once you make it into the bulk of the ship, the Hosts inform you that as they have just restocked all essential supplies, they will be throwing a party in your honor, and they hope you will sample the food.

Maybe you're incredibly dubious about this. Maybe you're starving after your long journey. Either way, you find yourself in the mess hall. It's less like a traditional mess hall and more like a park full of food trucks with seating in the middle. The food trucks are bright and eye-catching, Hosts serving huge heaps of food from their interiors, as their signs advertise everything from Earthen Ancient Egyptian food (As Close As We Can Reconstruct It!) to Raxalar Black Stew (New and Improved: Now Free Of Grit!).

Real grass is underfoot, and the picnic-style seating in the middle appears to be real wood. The lighting is a myriad; whimsical string lights strung between the trucks, floating globe lights playfully dancing like fireflies, and the luminescence of a dogform's patterns and a droneform's enormous eyes and a flyform's glittering trail. The Hosts are clearly excited.

And if the food happens to have... some kind of effect?

Well, the Hosts say, that's only to be expected! The attention of an Edict may, for a nano-second, turn toward the start of this voyage, and that's bound to make anything go a little wonky. Also, they've used some ingredients from the local system, and it's only customary there to share some thoughts and ideas and memories when you eat together. How else can you properly get to know each other?

RED BUFFALO SHANK WITH SPIKED LOTUS

This may or may not look appealing to you depending on your sensibilities, but it does smell incredible. Soft, savory red meat paired with the fragrant, earthy scent of the vegetable. The Red Buffalo is perfectly seared, and if you poke them cautiously, you'll find the spikes are entirely edible, as long as you chew well enough. If Wayfarers eat this, they will find themselves sharing a memory with the nearest person, a vision of the last time they were truly happy.

UPSIDE-DOWN PLUM SPARK-WINE

It seems the Hosts aren't quite sure of the appropriate alcohol content of substances, as this will burn all the way down, chased by a cool, sparkly feeling all the way down one's esophagus. It tastes of sweetly sour plums, and a potential hangover tomorrow morning. Wayfarers that imbibe this alcohol beverage will start overhearing the thoughts of those around them, as if they are perfectly in tune with everyone.

GOLDEN BUNS WITH SPICED HONEY DRIZZLE

Ah, a perfectly homey looking meal, sweet and savory, gently steaming. These are a must-try for any Wayfarer with a sweet tooth, proudly boasting of the agricultural and apiary skill of a nearby alien culture. The buns are perfectly fluffy, the spiced honey is warming. What's not to love? After eating this, Wayfarers will find themselves and the nearest person sharing a vision of themselves as they might have been had they gone down the worst possible path in their life.

CHERRY COLA!™

This isn't the Cherry Cola! you may or may not be familiar with, but it's interesting that whatever alien came up with this came up with the same Earth word. Or maybe the Hosts got it from Earth? Either way, it's fizzy, it's sparkly, it makes you feel like you're floating on rainbow bubbles. Upon drinking this, imbibers will telepathically project outward a vision of the most beautiful thing they've ever seen.

A CAKE. MAYBE.

Dear god. What is it? Who came up with this? Who is even brave enough to try this? It certainly… has a taste. It… has an appearance. Whether either of these things are good is in the eye of the beholder. Wayfarers adventurous enough to put this in their mouths (or other eating appendages) will find themselves uncontrollably speaking aloud of the thing they long for the most.

INITIATE

Eventually, it comes time to launch.

The Hosts are a blur of activity, some of them packing up more delicate equipment in case of errant gravity waves during initial propulsion, some of them herding the Wayfarers into a seating area reserved specifically for the safety of its occupants during launch, deceleration, and rare turbulence. You are informed that engine flare will be so bright it will rival a star for the next twenty-five hours of engine start-up burn, but you will only need to stay strapped in for half an hour or so.

As the Theorem's enormous engines start cycling, the entire ship seems to hum in melodic song. And after everybody is strapped in, that's when the intensity starts. Gravity seems to want to push everything toward the stern, and Wayfarers are pressed hard against their seats with the inertia. After half an hour, the Hosts cheerily announce that everybody is free to get up and move around — but you might want to stay near a window, as they will be doing a low dive through the nearby planet's second moon's atmosphere, and it will be quite the sight.

Soon enough, the moon becomes visible. It is of unbroken crimson red, though subtle shifting in its surface lets you guess that it's water rather than earth. And then, as the Theorem rolls gently to the side, the view in the windows nearly perfectly split between moon and space, that's when you see them, swimming through the atmosphere.



To call them fish would be inaccurate — they are not in an ocean, or any body of water — and yet, that will be the word that springs to mind for most Wayfarers. Some of them are sleek and small, schooling in packs of shimmering white and ochre. Others are long and pointed, appendages pointed backward to exude a bright pink gas that propels them forward and which trails after them like oil slicks in the air. The locals call them x'enuda, the Hosts tell you, a combination of words that mean to fly and cunning prey.

They swim closer, swarming outside of the window. Some of them swim through, phasing through the shielding and windows alike, to dance gently in the interior of the Theorem, darting to and fro. If any Wayfarers find themselves curious enough to reach out and touch these creatures, they will find themselves similarly phased, capable of passing through matter for the next few minutes before the shared electrical field wears off and returns them to normal corporality. The external shield will catch you if you phase right through the ship's floor, but you may need to swim back up. Others may find themselves suddenly craving company, as if the x'enuda's instinct to remain safe in a school is catching.

FOREWORD

"All Wayfarers, please report to the docking bay!"

As you filter into the enormous cavern that makes up the docking bay of the Theorem, you see rows of smaller spacecraft. Some of them are sleek and light, like they'd be as free as a feather during aerial combat, while others are bulky and spacious. Many of them have designs in alien languages on them, or bizarre looking mascots, seemingly for good luck. As the occasional screen informs you, you are free to claim any one of the ships as your own, but first, Starling's Lament would very much like to give a presentation.

Past the rows of ships lays an expansive opening in the side of the Theorem, many stories high and wide, a shimmering forcefield the only thing between you and space. Beyond it, you can see the quickly fading shape of the planet and moons you left behind as the Theorem continues acceleration. It is in front of this that Starling's Lament has set up a large hologram of a star map.

As they start to explain once everyone is gathered, the map currently shows the region of space you are in. It is an enormous quadrant of multiple galaxies, some pinwheeled in shape, some circuler or tube-like. A line arcs across it, heading into what is clearly less-explored space, beyond the area colorfully marked as Alliance territory. Eventually, that line stops at a star, which then magnifies to reveal a six planet system, the second planet from the star circled.

This is your first objective: designation Epsilon-355.

There are many stories of which planets the Last Pilgrim has set foot upon, and yet, nobody has ever verified any of them. This, the Ascendants claim, is the closest match they have found for one of those planets in a scrap of story: a land of golden sand and shimmering glass, where pilgrimages track their way across the Golden Barrens desert. The planet is small and unassuming in the hologram, and the details next to it are scarce: relatively normal gravity, breathable atmosphere. More details will become available as the Theorem gets close enough for in-depth scans.

If there any notes of the Song to be found, they may yet be found in the Last Pilgrim's footprints.

Presentation nearly over, Starling's Lament directs you a series of tables that have neatly assembled packages of gear. Once you have picked your Division, you are welcome to claim the technological tools of its trade. You can also look at the spaceships available to claim, or even just watch out the docking bay door as you leave the planet behind and head deeper into space.

Welcome to the mission, Wayfarer.

(CODE)

Comments

Muelsyse | Arknights

[hyompora]

i. reflect

[At first Muelsyse is convinced this must be a dream—it’s not like this isn’t a theme that’s been haunting her subconscious lately, after all. Then, perhaps it feels like some kind of cruel joke.

But the fact that her feet are solidly on the deck of a craft in space is nothing more than plain, uncaring fact. The cool, perfectly filtered air circulating throughout this hallway and onward throughout the rest of the ship tells her as much, even if the sights before her feel completely unreal. The sight of the planet from this vantage point is striking on its own, and while she marvels at it for a time, it’s the bright, painted colors of the distant nebula that snare her attention for longer.

It’s beautiful. It’s heart-wrenching. She wonders if Kristen had been treated to sights like this once she broke her way out of the sky. Wonders if maybe she’s still looking out at a sight like this even now.

She isn’t sure how long she’s been standing there staring before she registers that she’s not the only one taking in the sights here right now. Amber eyes shift to her impromptu partner in stargazing, a smile on her face and a cheerful tone to her voice despite the words it carries.]

It feels kinda lonely, doesn’t it?

[But maybe she’s just predisposed to feeling that way.]

ii. initiate

[The interior of the ship feels more stifling than she’d care to admit, particularly with how constrained she’s feeling now that she’s inexplicably cut off from her connection to water. Only able to be in one place at one time when she’s used to the flurry and buzz of having a simultaneous presences with the aid of her flowing shapes. So dreadfully unfair!

But the ship’s course sees fit to give her a little treat when that water-bound crimson moon provides a few visitors for them.]

a.
[The fins are a delight in the way they sweep so gracefully through the air around them, and Muelsyse brightens almost instantly the moment they phase right into the ship itself. Before long, she’s letting herself fall into an impromptu dance with them as they flit about the room, sweeping to and fro, mimicking their fluid grace with ease.

If you get too close while she does so, she’ll reach out to grab you by the wrist to pull you in alongside her with a wink.]

C’mon, join us! I think they like it.

b.
[Of course she couldn’t help but give one a touch, and it’s a choice she doesn’t regret at all when she realizes that it’s passed on the ability to slip right through solid objects as if they were porous and she, well… water! She’s flitting throughout the ship while she can, pleased as can be.

She pops her head through one wall, head canted to the side and long blonde hair drifting after her, grinning when it brings her face to face with you.]

Hiya! Hope I’m not interrupting anything~

[Or giving you an elf jumpscare in the middle of… whatever it is you’re doing.]

iii. foreword

[They’d have to get down to business eventually, and Muelsyse listens to the presentation with sharp attention, even if her brows are a little furrowed throughout. Once the little robotic fowlbeast finishes up, she filters along with the rest of the eclectic crew to the rows of tables lined with packages of equipment. It’s one from the batch of Science and Engineering that she claims as her own, taking the pack and moving somewhere a little more out of the way before she digs through it more properly.

She’s eyeing the field testing kit within with particular scrutiny when she pauses to look up, catching your eye with a cheery little smile—whether you’re just passing by or perhaps are looking for a place to stop and examine your own supplies.]

Wasting no time in putting us to work, huh? They must want that “Song” of theirs super duper bad.

iv. wildcard

[Feel free to catch her at the party to play with food effects, poking around other parts of the ship or hangar prior to mission start, or whatever else—I’ll roll with anything. You’re also welcome to DM if you’d like to hash out something specific or would like me to write a starter for you!]

ii. initiate - b

[precocity]

[ windows tend to be the best vantage point for observation, well, high places too and secluded, dilapidated alleyways. izaya has given up standing in favour of sitting on the floor and looking up.

his mind is still catching up with all the changes, but watching these creatures—x'enuda, as they had been named by the hosts— dance and swim back and forth, izaya finds himself marginally relaxing into the setting.

which all comes to an abrupt end when—a head pops out of the fucking wall next to him and izaya lets out an unmanly sound of surprise.

no one tell on him. ]

Fuck! Warn a guy next time.

[hyompora]

[She’ll keep your secret. Maybe. (No.)

That very unmanly note of startlement is chased by light, twinkling laughter from her as she moves to slip more fully into the room, movements fluid and graceful in a way that’s reminiscent of a gentle stream of water.]

And miss out on that look on your face?

[There’s an impish smile on display as she settles into the space beside him before it fades into something more playfully innocent. Oh yes, this is a woman who delights in catching people off guard.]

Sorry, sorry. But it was too good to resist.

[precocity]

[ izaya looks like he swallowed a lemon; her laughter isn't grating but his battered pride has just taken another hit and there's not a ton of it left. ]

Yes, along with the potential heart attack.

[ he makes a gesture with his hand, dismissive. ] That's fair, besides it's not the strangest thing I've seen today. Though it has been the most surprising, congratulations.

[hyompora]

Why, thank you.

[Yeah, she looks pretty pleased with herself—and that sour look of his is the sort of thing liable to goad her on a little more in any other circumstance.

But as he alludes to, today has been far from normal for any of them. She relaxes, growing a little more somber as her gaze sweeps around the room.]

Everything about this is pretty nuts though, you’re right.

[precocity]

Well, since you nearly gave me a heart attack [ she didn't, he's being a diva ] How about a little introduction? I can't say I've ever met someone who could pop out of a solid wall like that.

[ does celty's shadow tentacles count? ... nah. shifting a little, he makes enough space for her to settle down next to him if she wants, invitation unspoken. ]

Orihara Izaya, from planet Earth or should I introduce it as 'Earth dimension'? Universe? Not from around here, at the very least.

initiate, b.

[fisteacuffs]

[ what he's doing happens to be changing, and it's fortunate for the both of them that he's mostly finished by the time her head pops unannounced through the wall, the sliver of abdomen ducking away like the sun behind clouds as he tugs a nondescript grey shirt the rest of the way down.

for the space of two heartbeats there's nothing but silence, coupled by tension cutting through his shoulders and a subtle dig of his heels into the floor. then—a smile, perfectly amiable but failing to reach his eyes. ]

You know, I'm told it's generally polite to knock first.

[hyompora]

[Oh, my god. Muelsyse perhaps did not think through the ramifications of popping into rooms unannounced around this part of the ship, as focused as she was on playing a teensy-weensy little prank on unsuspecting crewmates. She had to take advantage while she could, after all; how was she going to keep from getting bored without water clones to surprise people with?

So instead she’s treated to some surprise in turn when it clicks that she’d narrowly avoided a much more awkward situation. The momentum of her little surprise-entrance maneuver keeps her from just backtracking out of there immediately, but like. He’s already dressed anyway. It’s fine.

Still, she makes a play at putting her hands over her eyes, but she does peek at him through an obvious gap in her fingers.]

Whoopsies!

[A beat, then she’s letting her hands drop, matching his smile with a perfectly practiced one of her own.]

But to be fair, it’s a liiittle hard to knock like this.

[Which she demonstrates by miming a knock at the wall she’d just entered from, hand phasing through it just as silently—but her tone suggests she knows full well there were polite options other than knocking at her disposal too.]

[fisteacuffs]

[ he can't sense any animosity radiating off the unfamiliar woman, and it's enough that he lets both his shoulders and hands drop. his smile warms half a degree, quirking up at her obvious mischief. ]

I see your point.

[ no harm, no foul. besides, better to get to know any fellow crewmates - shipmates? what is the right term for whatever they are anyhow - than to cut off the only potential allies he might have for a very long time. ]

Well, since both you and I are already here [ with a sweep of his hand between himself and her ] is there anything I can do for you?

[hyompora]

[Love to see someone willing to find a little amusement in her mischief. She lets her hands come to rest behind her, idly clasped together as she rocks back on her heels with a hum.]

I’m mostly just getting a feel for the ship and the people on it.

[Lucky chance she ended up here to pester him versus any other crewmate, but Muelsyse is not a woman who lets a chance to chat up a new face pass her by.]

So much to see, you know? Done any poking around yourself yet?

[fisteacuffs]

[ there's a nod and a hum of agreement at her words. it's nearly overwhelming how unfamiliar this whole place is, from the ship itself to the dark skies outside to their little mechanical hosts that scurry and whizz past. but while it's a lot to take in, it's also intriguing in its own way. ]

Smart move.

[ he'd been doing much the same himself before the urge to shuck off all his trappings and dress in something a little more nondescript had guided him to his room. though, since they're already on the topic— ]

Actually, if you don't mind, would it be alright if I came along with you? They say all things are more enjoyable when done in good company.

[ and she does seem like good company. ]

i.

[transmit]

[ He'd never given the stars much thought before. Always present on any beautiful journey, yet never more than distant, glittering decorations blanketing the land of Terra.

His steps carry him almost automatically, mind adrift as he traces constellations with his eyes, shapes without name or form. Was this what the Iberian forefathers sought when navigating the seas? Familiar patterns in the sky, guiding them home no matter where they roamed? The thought feels almost fantastical.

It's only when he spots a vaguely familiar figure, even more distracted than he is, that he's pulled from his reverie, curiosity taking root. Hm! How long before she notices him? He takes a step by her side. He steps quietly to her side; that seems far more entertaining than brooding over why he, of all people, was chosen. ]

The part that feels lonely—is it being far from home, or that I'm not who you wish I were? You're not likely to find better than Rhodes' very own Mister Congeniality, Miss Muelsyse.

[ He meets her gaze sidelong, the corners of his mouth twitching into a faint, teasing grin. ]

I jest. [ Turning his attention back to the stars, he tilts his head thoughtfully. ] It's quite a different view from what we're used to, isn't it? A shame we're among the few able to enjoy it.

[hyompora]

[The stars were such an odd thing to her—first, the interest and obsession of a dear friend, and then a tantalizing possibility built upon that very obsession. It was only weeks ago that she had tried her hardest to reach for them right alongside Kristen, only to be denied at the last moment. She had taken what time she needed to write off the possibility for herself—in the immediate present, if not as a tantalizing opportunity for the distant future—that it feels so surreal to find herself here in a blink, with seemingly no effort at all.

That vaguely nagging feeling of familiarity about the man beside her suddenly slots into place with the mention of that one name—Rhodes. Muelsyse may only have minimal time spent upon the landship between recent cooperation and earlier… unannounced visits, but some operators have more of a reputation than others, particularly those with such an outgoing personality.

But maybe a little bit of outgoing is exactly what she needs to feel more grounded right about now.]

Such a shame indeed.

[She feigns a put-upon sigh, injecting a little playfulness into her own smile before it fades into something more neutral.]

Really thought I’d missed my shot at seeing something like this. Feels like I’m just gonna wake up at any moment, finding nothing more than a dream.

[transmit]

[ A little bit of outgoing goes a long way. Maybe a bit too long, in this case. ]

Well, you'll be glad to know I'm not the kind of guy just anyone's subconscious could make up. Fortunately—! Or unfortunately, for the both of us, this isn't a dream.

[ He rolls up his sleeve, revealing skin with the faint glimmer of a row of neat crystal beneath. He gives it a quick pinch and mutters a quiet 'ow,' as thought that somehow proves his point. ]

See? Solid flesh. Two for two for impeccable evidence.

[ The real takeaway, he figures, is that no dream would be cruel enough to include the existence of the certain other thing. But it is what it is; he doesn't look too put out about it. ]

[hyompora]

[His demonstration prompts a little laugh from her, and she turns her attention to him more fully with a glint in her eye.]

Can’t refute solid evidence, you’re right about that.

[Something she knows full well as a scientist. And that scientific mind has been buzzing with all sorts of half-formed hypotheses and eager speculation that she’s hardly been able to spare a moment of full focus to with the overwhelming novelty of it all… but the sight of familiar crystal marring his skin does bring an important thought to the forefront for a moment.

Would they find Originium out here, so far from home? Sensitive as she is to the stuff, she can tell by how crisp and clean the air being filtered through these halls is that it’s not likely to be a factor on the ship itself—and she can’t help the exciting little flutter of hope that stirs up in her chest.]

Wonder what makes us the super duper lucky ones to wind up here like this… [There’s a little wistfulness in the way she lets that trail off.]

IIa

[underworldboss]

[Svarog had been silently observing the alien specimens, comparing them to the entries of every known species in the database. The results are meager, finding only shallow similarities at best, though they bear the most resemblance to descriptions belonging to that of a 'void song whale' which has been recorded to exist in quantum space.

A new specimen comes into view. There's a 'blink' of a mechanical eye which dims and brightens, but that is all. Svarog does not resist or pull back his hand from the stranger. The difference in weight is enough that she cannot pull up the rest of him unless he comes under the effect himself.]

Objection: no observable stimulus corresponding to emotional responses such as "joy" are on record. Such conclusions must be projected from outside sources.

[hyompora]

[Her light steps come to an abrupt halt, lips turning down into a put-upon pout when the one she tries to wrangle into a dance instead remains standing in still defiance of her whimsy. What gives!!

She doesn’t let go of his hand, instead now standing her own ground with her other hand on her hip as she stares up at that strange mechanical face. Idly she wonders if this guy’s deal is the same as a certain Maylander agent, but it’s unimportant in the moment.]

Don’t be such a stick in the mud. They’re having fun, I’m having fun, and you can too if you just give it a try.

[underworldboss]

[Svarog's wrist stays where it is, just as motionless as its owner, whose opinion remains unmoved. ]

I do not believe it concerns anyone if I have fun or not.

[Anyone here, at least. If it would make a certain little girl smile, then it would be positively contributing to the collective sum of happiness of all around. A simple decision to make. ]

[hyompora]

[Muelsyse appears unmoved by his (robotic) stonefaced dismissal. She finally lets go of his equally unmoving wrist, crossing her arms and frowning up at him. Two can play at this stubborn game, she supposes.]

Oh, don't give me that! We're crewmates now, aren't we? It's better for morale if eveyone's having a good time.

[A little school of smaller fins floats on by over their heads. Absolutely criminal that they're not playing with them right now. Criminal!]

[underworldboss]

[Morale, on the other hand, is a parameter which Svarog recognizes. It can be measured through various unit systems. All of which have some degree of subjectivity to interpret, but with undeniable observable effects in productivity and efficiency.

There is no external change in Svarog's "face", but it tilts upward at the passing school with new interest.]

Argument accepted. We should strive toward building a mutually open rapport, if we are to be crewmates in the foreseeable future. [He raises an arm but holds it still when his outstretched finger is just overhead, cautious in an almost hesitant way. ] Is the effect started from contact?

iii;

[residentskeptic]

[ In a similar vein, Keats has been paying attention to everything said. He curses the fact he doesn't have his handheld recorder so that he could tape the message, but alas -- it seems he'll have to rely upon his memory (and the memory of others). Terrific.

He saunters to the tables; his hands tucked into his pockets as he looks ever the packs they gave them. Keats wonders which team would best suit him before a young (question mark) pointed-ear lass happens to talk to him. Her smile is cheerful and tone without fear.

Keats hums. ]

Yes, I daresay multi-universes should have some trade unions we could complain to... but alas, it seems like we're free labor for now, hm?

[hyompora]

Such a rough lot for us.

[She exhales an exaggerated sigh, closing her eyes and tilting her head back dramatically for a beat. Then she's shrugging it off with a smile, attention back on him.]

But at least it's interesting work. Hard to get bored when it's space we're traveling through, getting to explore other planets.

[Like, wowee! Feels entirely too crazy to wind up in a situation like this after the whirlwind named Kristen Wright swept through Trimounts only a few weeks ago, denying her the opportunity to see the stars alongside her. At least thinking about the exciting new things in store for them does a decent enough job of keeping her mind off of that for a little while.]

[residentskeptic]

You know none of this is real, right?

[ Did Keats experience everything that she did? Yes. Did he already have experiences traveling across realities? Yes. Does he just like being a skeptic of these things because? Also, yes. ]

It certainly is a nice little romp through a fantasy, but we shouldn't get too carried away.

[ So he says as he gauges everything that they have with complete seriousness of someone ready to go out on space adventures. ]

[hyompora]

What's there to get carried away with if it's all just make-believe anyway?

[Like, isn't the entire point to flights of fancy to go all out with the imagination? Indulge in the fantasy?

But it's not like she can exactly blame anyone for being a skeptic here. She's got reservations of her own about the believability, though even with that in consideration, she's still finding it hard to land on this being anything but real. The empirical evidence doesn't lie.]

But alright, I'll bite—what exactly about this has you so convinced it's all a big fake?

[residentskeptic]

I'm simply a realist. No human could experience something so fantastical.

[ He pats his front, looking for a notebook. His arms drop as he doesn't have that on person. His head tilts to the side as he lets out a pained sigh of irritation. But his fingers still move like he wants to do something with them -- ]

As far as getting carried away, if you think this is real, you'll end up getting dragged away by the "rationalizations" of people who believe the same. [ He tugs at his tie, at least he can do that much. ] As we're already unpaid labor, we don't have to be delusional unpaid labor, right?