Redemption

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illirica
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Re: Redemption

Post by illirica » Thu Apr 26, 2018 2:03 pm

"There are many people who can kill people," Karana said dismissively, uninspired by that statement. "And almost all of them seem to think it makes them somehow special. The way I see it, once the dying part is done, it doesn't much matter to the husk that was left how it came about. Or perhaps that's too philosophical. Tell me, Shade, do Time Siphons believe in an afterlife? I've studied a number of the races of the galaxy, and I can't say yours is one I've come across."

Naturally, Karana would be sifting through the various databases at her earliest convenience to come up with whatever information she could on the species, but for now she thought she was likely to learn far more by talking to the one Time Siphon present and inquiring as to her opinions, rather than relying on the opinions of scholars, many of whom were far too prideful of the information they had collated for it to be entirely correct. Regardless of her lack of foreknowledge on Time Siphons, Karana did know a few things about the recently imprisoned. Anger, stress, difficulty re-integrating with society, unexpected phobias at times. All of those were things to watch out for, and with the ex-convict in question being notably dangerous, she would have to be managed carefully. Much more carefully than the current operation commanders seemed to be planning on.

All right. I will appoint myself as her unofficial parole officer, then, and make sure to check in on her regularly to ensure her continued stability, as well as try to assist her in re-engaging in more normal activities. Not the ship-standard activities of fighting and drinking, though, Karana thought. Tasteless activities anyway, but they'd likely be more of a detriment to Shade than an asset, at least for the time being. Something creative, rather than destructive, I think.

"If that's too personal an inquiry, you needn't answer it," she followed her last statement upon reflection, leaving it open as a question to be answered by choice rather than by demand. Something else an ex-convict wouldn't have much recent experience with. "Do you like art?" A very neutral topic, but quite specifically chosen - art was about creation, as far from the destructive tendencies that Shade had exhibited thus far as Karana could think of. It would, she thought, be good for her self-assigned charge. Therapeutic, perhaps... and Shade seemed to be someone who certainly needed a great deal of therapy, at this point.

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Re: Redemption

Post by LunaHawk » Fri Apr 27, 2018 2:08 am

Haed almost laughed at the question, a grin of dubious origin slipped across her lips and her eyes lit up with internalized mirth. "An afterlife? This is my..." She trailed off and started to silent count on her fingers. "Twentieth body. I don't need an after life." She left the table and recovered another food tray, crossing the distance once more to the table. She held it up, gazing at the flat bottom of the tray like a mirror, turning it this way and that. "I never really got a good look at the face in prison. Not bad is it? She was pretty, I mean, aside from the obvious...assets. I don't remember killing her though...I wonder when it happened."

She put the tray down on the table.

"We don't believe in an after life, no." She grew serious again. "We are temporal energy, I guess you could say that even in true death it's simply the end of sentience. We're usually too busy focusing on staying alive and cheating death than what it would be like if we permanently died. I mean, it would be nice from at least one perspective...I'd stop starving."

She leaned her hands on the table again, watching the other woman for a moment, examining her facial expressions as she considered the rest of her words. "You've not heard of us because this isn't our home galaxy, in fact, this little corner of the universe is quite far away from Cocytus. There are places though, those close enough to our old empire to whisper our names with dread...or to tell stories about us to their children to get them to behave. For many, we are the monsters in the closet. Here though..." She shrugged. "Why do you think I came here? It seemed like a good place to get away from it all. Right up until jail happened."

She frowned a little as she thought about the last bit. The bit about art.
"I used to be really good at drawing, it was kind of nice, I enjoyed it." She mused. "But...that was a few bodies ago. This one has a talent for ballistics. I suppose though, as a concept, yes, I do like art."

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Re: Redemption

Post by Poetic Ghost » Sat Apr 28, 2018 8:17 pm

"Nope, it was just the first thing to come to mind, maybe I should become a heckler, eh?" Rhee grinned and crushed the aluminum can in her fist. "So tell me, what's a guy like you doing in this part of the galaxy? I thought all of your kind were guarding some ancient temples or something like that." She continued, stepping over to a secured bar by the squat weights, and began to pull herself up to her chin using one hand.

Morgan walked in just in time to witness this spectacle. His captain was trying to show off her strength to a machine, and even worse, it was Jax. While he had nothing against the guy, Jax had to be one of the most cynical, washed-out, rough beings that he had met in his time in Aurelius.

And Rhee? He didn't even know how to describe her. She seemed more like a bear than a woman, from the way she walked, to her motions, her speech. There were plenty of people in Aurelius, being a human in these times meant you were one of billions. But Rhee stood out from the other human filth that wandered space, depending on their next meal to survive. She had a ship, and a steady line of work with The Hub. She was ahead of the curve for most Hub humans, even more so for anyone on the colonies.

Morgan turned from the door, and decided he wouldn't clutter the weight room any more than he had to. Besides, Jax had already taken the punching bag. He took some time to check the cockpit for some indication about how much longer they had on the clock for their trip.

Ship will complete transit in [11] Galactic Hours...

Hmm... Morgan left the bridge and went for the mess hall. It was time to cook some grub for his team, even if not all of them required or wanted food at the moment. Morgan had learned two things about food in the army; It was better to have a belly full of food, rather than a belly full of lead, and food could ease the tension and build a team. He immediately got to working on dinner. It seemed Rhee had set out a pot of chili, mixed with whatever she could find at the back of her food storage unit. It would certainly fill bellies, but most likely poison anyone who hadn't developed a spacer's stomach. Morgan worked to fix it how he could, straining out the bits that would make you choke, and adding some of his own rations to the mixture for some actual flavour. After about fifteen minutes of culinary creation, he poked his head out the door of the mess hall.

"Dinner in five minutes! Please, make sure to wash your hands!" He called through the halls of Zoria, reaching almost every room in the ship.

Borous heard this call first, and lifted his head off his papers that he had strewn across his desk. The mad scientist checked his watch before standing up from the chair in his room and closing the door behind him. He sniffed the air, catching the flavourful scent of Morgan's chili through the ship. His stomach growled in response, and he shuffled his way to the mess hall.

Just like mom used to make...
~~ You are but a grain of sand, in the sands of time. ~~

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Re: Redemption

Post by Quirbles » Sun Apr 29, 2018 1:44 am

Another lighthearted joke, and if Jax hadn't known any better— or cared more than he did— he would've assumed that the woman's tone was provocative under the guise of banter. He listened to her rhetorical question and debated answering as his punches rang off of the large bag, shifting up in position slightly as to not bore a hole through the tough cloth exterior. After a moment, he gave an answer.

"Key part of that is 'were'. We were guarding those places, what, how many fuckin' years ago— thousands? Millions? Shit, I don't know and I don't want to. Better for everyone if I put all that behind me." He stated, his tone remaining relatively unfazed by the rigorous punching he inflicted upon the bag. He tilted his head towards the source of a noise behind him and saw Morgan standing in the doorway to the workout area, a slight expression of discomfort barely visible upon the cowboy's face. The Conscious would've turned to say something had he not turned on his heels and left the area for an unknown reason; Jax speculated that it was probably due to his own presence. He gave a short chuckle and turned his head back to the punching bag. The punches abruptly ceased and the Conscious stepped back from the exercise equipment, picking his flask up from the floor and screwing the top open before taking a lengthy swig from it. He lowered the metal canister and breathed out, securing the top back on and slipping it into the back pocket of his pants.

"I'm going to find some alcohol. We'll talk later." Jax replied, not meaning the second part in the slightest. The way Pink Hair carried herself reeked of megalomania, and he didn't want to have a part of it; not unless he could have a hand in bringing it down a few pegs, at least. He made his way down to the mess hall, and after a minute or two of wandering around the ship was able to finally find the fuckin' place. The room already had a few people in it, and Jax recognized them from the briefing that occurred aboard the vessel they were previously stuck on. The woman with the "low blood sugar" was present, currently engaged in trivial conversation with someone that, now that he remembered, Jax sworn must've given him a dirty look earlier. He made his way past the two, offering up a small glance to Morgan before bringing his attention to the cafeteria's storage room.

Entering for a moment, the Conscious scanned the shelves for any bottles remotely looking like they contained alcohol; after a short spell of looking, he came up with a dusted bottle of... something hidden on one of the back shelves. It had no label, but a small engraving of 176 PROOF on the side of the glass was all the confirmation Jax needed.

"Finally." He muttered to himself, seeing as his metal flask was almost completely devoid of any liquid within it. He entered back into the main area of the mess hall, leaning against one of the counters as he popped the lid on the drink and took a swig from it. He felt nothing— as was expected, sadly— besides the small twinge of warmth within his throat and chest. He exhaled and took a look at the giant pot of whatever the fuck Morgan was cooking.

"Thank Christ I don't need to eat." He muttered to himself, glancing over to the two women talking for a second time. What were they talking about? Art? Jesus, it was they were going on a first date.
Last edited by Quirbles on Wed May 02, 2018 4:09 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Annasiel
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Re: Redemption

Post by Annasiel » Sun Apr 29, 2018 7:49 pm

The following moments were a blur of exposition, intrigue, and - to be completely honest - information Chellis didn't really want to know. She'd already agreed to this mission. Backing out now would seem rude. Still, the more she learned about what they had to do, the more she second guessed her committal. She'd already assumed as much as the Sons of Adam, from her talk with Morgan. But weapons of mass destruction... no... weapons of planetary detruction... were far above her grade of comfort.

It didn't help that the underlying tension was thick enough to feel stifling.

As soon as they were on board the Zoria, she managed to relax a little, if only for the ability to get away from everyone else. She needed time to process what they had to do. Not that she wanted to think about it at all. For a while, she wandered the halls of the ship, avoiding contact where she could manage and neglecting conversation where she couldn't. At last, she wandered into what she assumed to be the mess hall, finding herself in the company of the two people she'd least wanted to see.

The static was rummaging through a cupboard, intent on finding something (but motives, of course, concealed), while the hungry one sat chatting with the girl who didn't seem like the rest.

Shade, Karana. And the static is Jax.

Not wanting to bother any of them, Chellis made to leave, but curiosity led her to hinder. Against her better judgement, she approached the one named Jax.

It is traditionally polite to greet someone upon first proper meeting.

"What are you?" she asked instead. She was far more nervous than she first realized. Swallowing hard, she tried again. "My apologies. I am Chellis, you must already know this. What are you?"
Swollen with a mantra that I've stolen from a thief.

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Re: Redemption

Post by Someguy500 » Wed May 02, 2018 5:44 am

"Oi! Watch where ye steppin twinkle toes."

Farris stared down at the mech-limbed troublemaker for a good, long moment. She had seen him acting like an idiot, and now she must perish- haha, no. He stopped himself before that little joke reached his face. Oh well, he thought, before going over to slap her on the back, laughing gently. It was a strangely human sound, coming from another species. He answered in his normal voice, that of a young adult male. "Yeah? Well no, fuck off. I can dance around this ship like a retard however I damn well want to."

The green man turned and walked away towards the mess hall. Right on time, too, since Cowboy Morgan just announced dinner in five. On his way, Farris swiped once at his wrist and tapped it, causing a grey suit coat to materialize over his dress shirt and slacks. He walked on to the mess hall like Lilith wasn't even there anymore.
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- Annasiel, April 2018

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Re: Redemption

Post by Quirbles » Wed May 02, 2018 4:09 pm

The Conscious took another swig from the clear bottle he'd found in the pantry, crossing his arms as he stared off into negative space at the far end of the mess hall.

Vodka. Definitely vodka.

Jax leaned back against the counter and let his eyes drift shut to darkness, savoring the pit of warmth the alcohol brought to his chest. Predictions of the mission and opinions who he'd be working with passed through his head, though his mind always focused back onto one specific thought.

Backwater.

Jax tried to open his eyes; only he couldn't move his eyelids, or any other part of his body for that matter. He was paralyzed. Sounds and any outside stimuli became numb and was replaced with a low hum in his ears, the thoughts in his mind blending together and forming a tangible scene within his panicked mind. A tavern. Backwater. Blood. Bodies.

It was a scene he could never bring himself to realize and reconcile with and actively avoided thinking of at all costs. In his dreams, though, his own input didn't matter. He was a passenger, a prisoner to whatever his subconscious decided to torture him with. Dreams were a terrible occurrence for the Conscious because of what they brought. The warmth in his gut was replaced with a dull, nauseating pain. Guilt.

The tavern was smeared with fresh blood, the smell of copper hanging heavy in the dim light of the main floor. At the entrance to the building stood a humanoid shape, unrecognizable in appearance and a black, shapeless color. Despite its lack of eyes, Jax could feel its piercing stare. He took a shaky step forward. The corpses looked as fresh as the day he had killed them. An overturned lantern in the back of the room began a small fire. He knew what happened next.

The shapeless figure took a step forward to him. The dull hum in his ears escalated into a ringing crescendo, wrapping around his mind like tendrils and digging into his skull. The pain brought him to the point of collapsing, his knees hitting the blood-soaked floor at the figure stopped in front of the Conscious. Jax looked up at the figure and it looked down at him. The silhouette cocked its head to the side and reached down.

WHAT ARE YOU

Jax's eyes snapped open, his body still in the same position it had taken before the dream. His body jolted in reflexive alarm, the bottle he'd been holding in his hands slipping from his grasp before being caught again a foot above the tiled ground. Still partly within the panicked haze of the dream, the Conscious turned to the source of the voice. The Silwin. She stared at him with a barely distinguishable sense of nervousness, obviously intent on asking him something.

"My apologies. I am Chellis, you must already know this. What are you?"

Jax blinked, looking around the cafeteria for a moment to gain his bearings and subsequently relaxing against the counter to take a swig from his bottle. He sighed after a moment, looking back to Chellis.

"You're Silwin, right? Read minds. Wait— not minds. Emotions. I've met a few of your kind before."

He was free to feel as much hatred as he could in that moment, seeing as she couldn't even get a hint as to what emotion was going through his mind. Every instance of an encounter with a Silwin was through incarceration and processing, and each time the same questions were asked. Hell, the conversation Jax was having with Chellis reminded him of one and it only served to decrease the already dwindling trust he had for the Silwin.

"I'm what everybody calls the 'Conscious'. Woke up a decade or two ago. Guess I must have fucked up somewhere down the line 'cause now I'm on this ship." He explained, an evident bitterness in his tone punctuating how he felt about being here. Jax took another drink from the bottle.

"Why do you care?" The Conscious questioned in return, crossing his arms. The feeling of having one's mind probed isn't something easily forgotten, and Jax certainly felt Chellis' presence.

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illirica
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Re: Redemption

Post by illirica » Wed May 02, 2018 5:40 pm

Karana found the Time Siphon's view on an afterlife fascinating, not in that it was any different from anyone else she'd ever considered, but in the fact that it seemed rather as if she had never even considered the question at all. That was... strange, she thought. Most who were heavily invested in killing spent a great deal of time pondering the afterlife. Many of them decided it was merely a ruse, a false promise for the premise of good behavior. It was the believers, she had always thought, that were the most dangerous. Those that felt that without a doubt they were sending their victims on to the next world, and that some day they too would ascend. They made interesting individuals and terrible employees.

Shade, it seemed, was not one of those. Simply an every day killer, slaughtering under the pretense of survival, like so many before her and so many around her. She let the topic rest, as it deserved. "You needn't be good at art to appreciate it. We'll start art therapy... hm, tomorrow afternoon. It will be good for you." No one liked to hear those words, of course, but Karana disarmed them with an amused smile. Innocent though her words may have been, they were delivered fait accompli, as if the thing had already been established.

She had noted, of course, the present arrival of others during their conversation, and rose carefully from her chair, maintaining both her distance and her gravity, holding eye contact. "I am going to go speak with the Captain. I believe it would be good for you to come along, even if you are not quite up to interpersonal interaction just yet. Even adapting to the outskirts of publicity requires time and effort. I will not, however, press you into that situation if you are not yet comfortably. I believe this room will become rather full shortly - it is up to you how you wish to handle that. I welcome your company should you choose to give it, and should you choose that I will see you tomorrow instead, I will respect your privacy."

Karana gave a nod at that, another boardroom decision handed down without the bother of the boardroom, and went deliberately towards the kitchen and the clatter of pots. In the doorway, she paused for a few moments, taking in the scenery. The scent was somewhat appealing, even if it did appear to be some variant of peasant stew. Karana wouldn't complain, she'd certainly eaten worse for the sake of politeness and diplomacy. There was one fact, though, that she couldn't quite move beyond.

"Captain Blackwell," she murmured in greeting, despite his expressed preference for 'Morgan,' it was far too good an opportunity to pass up. Her eyes twinkled, amused. "I can't say I expected you to be the sort to wear an apron."

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Poetic Ghost
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Re: Redemption

Post by Poetic Ghost » Sun May 06, 2018 10:14 pm

"Captain Blackwell," murmured Karana in greeting. "I can't say I expected you to be the sort to wear an apron."

Morgan shrugged. "Why, of course I'd an apron. I'd hate to get any stains on my clothes," he commented, absent mindedly stirring his impressive pot of chili. "I know it isn't exactly high cuisine, but it sure will satisfy your appetite, if you're hungry." He turned to Karana, letting his chili sit. "I still don't fully understand. Why are you here?" He crossed his arms. "I'm not saying I don't want you here, but you aren't the type I'd expect to see in this kind of work. There has to be some reason you're here, I doubt it is for the money..."

Rhee finished her set of pull-ups and dropped to the floor with a heavy impact. She grabbed a nearby towel and wiped herself down. "Must've hit the kitchen, hope he didn't touch the chili..." she mumbled and whistled as she made her way down the halls of her ship to the Mess Hall. Her broad shoulders almost didn't fit through the tight hallways of the crew quarters. Rhee stepped through the doors and immediatetly called out;

"So... what's for dinner?"
~~ You are but a grain of sand, in the sands of time. ~~

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Annasiel
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Re: Redemption

Post by Annasiel » Mon May 07, 2018 7:58 pm

The presence of the static - now risen to a painful whine - made reading the creature's emotions a game of guesswork. He'd seemed lost in thought before, barely responding in kind to Chellis' first words, but jumping as if startled out of some deep haze. When she repeated her question, it took him a moment to respond.

Alcoholic? He appeared inorganic externally, and despite being practically attached to a bottle, shows minimal to negligent effect. It could be presumed his lack of situational awareness was attributable to some degree of intoxication, but without any other symptoms aerobic organisms typically portray, that assumption was on shaky ground.

She didn't reply to his own address, instead opting to stare and wait for more. She had asked a question, after all, and expected and eventual answer. If he-

Chellis winced. The static had hissed at a particularly harsh pitch, jolting her gut and sending shocks down her spine. It wasn't a sonic static, per say, but more like - more like the physical equivalent. Pins and needles in her head. Even through the noise, speculations rose and fell. That she felt anything at all pointed to some sort of organic component.

The Conscious... woke up a decade or two ago? Lack of concern for temporality suggests no a fast-paced or nonexistent developmental cycle - stop it. He asked you a question. Concentrate.

"I do not see why you believe ill acts led to your presence here, unless you are here against your will," Chellis replied. "Regardless, I care because I do not know, and I do not like not knowing things. I apologize if my question was perceived as rude. I do not wish to pry."

She tilted her head, dark eyes staring impassively, then broke into a warm smile.

"You seem uncomfortable. Can I help you relax in any way?" The way the girl from before looked at her. "Or is it my presence that is causing your discomfort?"
Swollen with a mantra that I've stolen from a thief.

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