END GAME: THE COUNTDOWN STARTS

[sailmods]

[the prisoners wake up on cold, hard floors.

the lights are bright, glaring, a sterile cell with sterile bars facing a sterile hall. the prisoners with you, across from you, and no one else. no rocking of a ship in waves, nothing. just the prisoner and their prison.

time passes, one assumes. the rhythmic click of Friday’s heels down the hall. it’s almost like the ticking of a clock.]

Comments

[sailmods]

[VIOLENTLY PINWHEELING ITS ARMS AND LEGS WHILE STAGGERING AROUND TRYING TO FLING OFF THESE DAMN BUGS

this does mean that okie is getting a very solid shaking; the robot seems to have forgotten what it was planning on doing to him outside of that.

also, Clarke is here now. hi, clarke.]

[decohere]

[so proud of Siffleur doing what cats do best, getting under feet. too busy being flung about to notice Clarke quite yet, Ava's clinging on stubbornly, focusing the brunt of her weight at the joints.]

Try to trip it!! [maybe if they can get this thing off balance...]

[goodweather]

(…

Phil does what he always does: he recognizes someone more in need, and his friend, his partner, his own strength and blood—he lets it go.

“… Of course,” he says with a tone like shifting stone, and nods. He reaches out vaguely, but doesn’t touch. He doesn’t want to startle Darcy’s beau. “Keep her safe, Symbs.”

… If he sticks with Cass and Helena, he can… he can help keep at least these ones safe, too. Instead of watching them go. Left behind, not much more useful than a body to put between them and their enemies. And if… if Darcy lives—if Darcy lives, if Security lives, to Helena they’ll come back.)

[configuration_birdwatcher]

[ Bastion's left arm twitches and their hand loses its grip, so now their gun arm bent around some protrusion on the mech's leg is the only thing holding them in place and the rest of their body is flopping around and slamming into it every time the bigger robot flails. It's loud, disorienting, and painful, but probably not much more pleasant for the mech than for Bastion. ]

[myagic]

[Rita doesn't intend to hesitate; it just--happens. Seeing the bridge door open to pitch-black, smothering darkness, remembering this isn't the first time, and suddenly her feet don't quite move through the opening, freezing abruptly instead. But-]

Hey--wait!

[Clarke plunges in, and that's all the incentive she needs. Nobody's getting left alone. They're in this together, whatever happens. That sentiment is strong enough to overcome the fear or trepidation, and with a small breath, she holds a hand in front of her face and jumps through.]

[yourexoduslaughing]

Oh my god Sharky!!! That's too many times! That's too many times!! Oh my god and you know it wouldn't have worked and we'd all smell like piss! Oooohhh you're a saint for talking him down!

[Flan's hair doesn't respond, as limp and lifeless as any other hair. It just hangs over his fingers with narry a twitch or possessive curl. Flan sighs, her shoulders slumping and for a little bit, the enthusiasm parts and her fear shows through.] It's just hair now... it's like... it's gone, and my powers are gone, and I was having a total panic attack for a while and it was super super ugly. We gotta get our powers back or I'm going to just like, curl up and die, just be like an old dried out beetle you find in a cupboard. What's even the point of it all if I can't yeet myself anywhere I wanna go??

[blindwatchersees]

So this spirit is a messenger, and a scout, then? An envoy, trapped here. It's a terrible thought, that such an entity would be trapped in such a scenario that could not carry out the very essence of their nymic. Sure, there are people on the ship to greet, but all things considered, that number is very small.

It feels instinctive, knowing what he should do in this situation- perhaps he was always more spirit than he gave himself credit for, even as a mortal. This messenger has come with greetings, and sounds, and pictures, so it would only be polite to return the same.

He takes a deep breath. Even without the Mantle, the words come easily, as Sheogorath taught him how to be Sheogorath before the state of things shifted. He takes one of Voyager's hands in his own, and conjures up as vivid a picture of his realm in his mind as he can manage.

"I am called the Shivering Isles, Sheogorath, the 'Mad Star.' I am one of sixteen sibling-worlds that move in the outer reaches of Oblivion. I am music and inspiration, I am depression and dread. I am the songs my people know without having heard them before. I teem with life. My structure is dense root, my terrestrial body formed from plant and fungus gathered together at the beginning of time, growing since ages immemorial. My core is a wellspring of spirit-water, which wells up to the surface and feeds all things."

"Humans and elves and Khajiit and Saxhleel came to me across the void from the world-sphere of Nirn, and the Aureal and Mazken spirit folk settled upon me when they found opportunity with me that their tribe-home worlds could not offer, but from my seas and wellsprings I birthed all manner of creatures as well. There are the Baliwog, little frog-pups that bury themselves in the mud and emerge as grummites, the frog-men, and then once they lay their eggs they in turn grow into hulking finned beasts called Scalon. The Elytra travel the hollows formed by my earth-roots, their gleaming carapaces the source of many coveted pheromones. The Gnarls are my spirit-kin, born of me and through me, formed of the earth-roots, to which they tend and to which they will return."

"My root-body dots the surface with fruiting mushroom-trees and all manner of plants and fungi. Almost all ecology is interwoven, a nervous system. My composition changes from north to south, from bright to dark, and along that gradient, life shifts, too. The Elytra of the north have emerald bodies with bright orange abdomens, while the southern elytra have bodies the color of a deep sea, and abdomens pale like moonlit quartz-sand. The Gnarl of the north have pale bark and red leaves, while their kin to the south are the color of damp mulch, their leaves a deep green. The mushroom trees of the north and south are orange and pale brown, respectively. The north is comprised of high hills, and the south, low-lands and marshes. Even the atmosphere differs based on latitude- the north sky glimmers in the daylight and burns bright pinks and purples at night, while the south sky is a misty blue that almost appears cracked, and it changes little with nightfall, save for that it darkens."

He pauses, giving Voyager time to ask more questions, or to give a message of his own.

[broshaw]

"IF WE KNEW THE BARS WERE MADE OF PLASTIC, YOU'D ALL BE THANKING ME RIGHT NOW!!!"

[neverleave]

...do we have anything we can drop to see how deep it is?

[He squints at the darkness, straining his shiki eyes to see anything.]

The storage room doesn't have other exits. I don't know if we have anywhere else to go.

[makesomedeals]

[ He fortunately can't actually see them so they're spared his audible eye rolling.]

The Erda is around as well.

If you have any suggestions about avoiding that fog it'd be helpful. And we're clearly not as trapped as we first thought, after all we're here now and escaped. No reason we can't keep rolling the dice and escape with you as well.

[ But the more pressing matter is that he never wants to experience that fog again! ]

[not_the_last]

Something about the way he says of course stirs a faint echo, rings a distant bell.

It gets immediately shut away, into one of the innumerable locked chests in her mind, by the part of her that stands constant watch over the rest; the part that keeps her from even having to consciously think if I look any closer at that I will become useless for anything else.

"I think we should all stay together at this point, as much as we can," she says aloud, and presses Helena's hand, and puts her other hand on Phil's arm. "We've already been separated at least three ways -- do we want to try and go after any of the others?"

[fonomena]

[It's simultaneously completely unsurprising but still a bit off-putting, yes, to find nothing but absolute darkness on the other side of the bridge door when it's pushed open. As if the yawning void beyond the deck also dwells in here...but then again, it really is just about on par with every other unpleasant aspect of this entire situation, isn't it?

Jade's already bracing for the headache that navigating darkness without so much as a little fonic flame on hand is going to be...but he's not far behind Clark or Rita, in moving through. Maybe just a bit further behind than he'd like, actually--even only dubiously armed with a plastic facsimile of a cell bar, he really would rather have taken point for the group...but, well. There goes Clarke, and Rita close on her heels, and so he ends up being a very close third.]

Carefully, now, watch your step and be prepared for anything--

[besixdouze]

Thrust...like a rocket's jets? A magic rocket...wow. That must have been, so much work...it must have been, a wonderful sight...

[If only he could have seen it too. If only he could recall how it must have flown. He'll never have anything but respect for rockets, those things that bring humanity closest to the stars--a thing that had propelled him to the stars once before...and now twice. Even in a state like this, nothing could entirely stifle the touch of awe in Voyager voice at this news.

--But it's not that he can't tell where Rita's distress must be coming from, either. Voyager pauses to take a breath, but he's now observing her features very solemnly as well. ...What a nice person this is, he thinks. To have accomplished such an amazing thing as a rocket, and yet still be so upset about the results, because of how he's ended up.

He doesn't really know how to make it better at the moment, but still...]

...You didn't want this to happen. I know. You helped wrap my hand, before...I still remember. [That she's not someone who would have set out to hurt him intentionally, if she'd known.] So...you know...it's not your fault, okay? I'm not mad.

Besides, you're going...to help save everyone too, right?

[thismaskismybadge]

[ This is the weirdest possible demonstration of teamwork making the dream work that she could've ever imagined but hey ho here we go—

It's entirely likely someone's head is getting used as a jump-off point as she leaps for the thing's 'head', a move which involves a run-up and a dramatic flip or two where she judges the height she needs based on experience alone. ]

[sailmods]

[the scrabbling of the limbs turns inward, aiming for gwen. this mainly just ends with it bashing itself with bastion's body.]

[configuration_birdwatcher]

[ OW. There's a crunch and a synthesized screech as yet another part of their armour crumples. ]

[abhorrently]

[...

very, very carefully, she shifts backwards to kick an empty cardboard box forward and then out into the darkness.

look, she's not dropping her shoes down, and they need the cookie to Grow Steve. this is the next best thing.]

[goodweather]

(Cass’ hand on his arm is… it’s nice.

“—Yes. Please,” is Phil’s voice, a little strained. But he isn’t sure which direction to head in. Both Darcy and Fever passed his cell multiple times, and his memory isn’t really serving him well enough to know where they really ended up going. He only vaguely remembers something about vents, but he doesn’t see anything now. And he can’t hear either of them. He hears—god, he hears too much.

He glances up and down the hall to either exit, hesitating to go each way.)

[teethoftherisk]

[The beautiful thing about being a cat is the reflexes, which are the only thing keeping Siffleur from becoming a red paste. He springs out of the way, launching himself back towards the rest of the group, narrowly missing Gwen on her own mid-air journey to slam a disembodied head on a robot's body.]

voyageeeeer 😭

[myagic]

[For a moment, she squeezes her eyes shut, voice thick as she abruptly shouts--and just as abruptly cuts herself off-]

How can you be so-

[She doesn't understand his underlying nature--to her, he does look like a small child, whatever powers he might have--so she just can't comprehend why he speaks about the launch with so much wonder.

She opens her eyes again. It sounds so--so silly, that he remembers something so simple. So trivial, compared to everything that's surely been happening to him... But-

You're going to help save everyone too, right?]

Yeah--of course- [Keep it together, Rita. She sniffs and wipes a hand across her eyes, meeting Voyager's gaze.] We're getting everyone out of this. And--that includes you, so--so you have to hang in there, got it?! No matter what!

[thismaskismybadge]

[ Thank you Bastion sorry Bastion—

Gwen sticks her landing, which really means clinging half to the upper back of the robot with three limbs while the fourth places Jenny's head. ]

[sailmods]

[it disappears into the void. there is no further sound.]

[sailmods]

[for a moment, the robot freezes entirely.




then, out of nowhere, a cardboard box lands at mach speeds onto Jenny's head, and, having immediately lost consciousness, she begins to

slowly

slide off the robot, like a slug falling from a tire.]

[not_the_last]

Cassandra follows his glance, and presses her lips together for a moment.

"Siffleur said both doors go to the same place. If we want to follow the first group that went out, that's where we want to go. The vents ... I can't see them, and the cat isn't here anymore to show us."

[decrypter]

"Do you need to see them to find them?"

Her voice is soft, rough edged like waking up from sleep, from only murmuring prayers for however long it's been. It's been so long, but time hasn't seemed to matter. She's not tired, not thirsty.

"Maybe it's just a trick."