It was an almost childish desire. At least, Iniss seemed to think so. He hadn't even gotten a chance to talk to Karen yet, and he really wanted to. He wanted to show her the ship. He wanted her to meet his friends and goof around and just be a little kid for once.

< It's a waste of time. >

< It's not a waste of time, she's a little girl. She needs time to be a little girl, Rhiow said. >

< She's just a human child. A useless human child. >

"Aftran? Could I...uh, could I ask a favor, please? Just...I'd like to take Karen to meet some people. I...we won't tell them, promise...I just think-" He swallowed, trying to smile a failing somewhat. "Would you mind? Just for a couple hours?"

He still wasn't sure what to think of this Yeerk, this Yeerk who was supposedly the start of the Peace Movement, or what that even meant. Karen hadn't been willing, so was it willing now that she was too beaten down to fight? Was that what they meant, just taking the leftovers of host-breakers and mental breakdowns?

Iniss didn't really have a problem with allowing Sam time with his host. The younger Winchester was by far one of the tolerable humans on the ship. A useful thing to cultivate, towards any end, and for such a small request, not something that was even worth refusing. The training was useful, Sam himself was a rather useful ally. Therefore, indulge him.

Which meant that less than an hour later, he stood at the Winchester's door. Waiting for someone to open and hoping that it wasn't the older brother. Human families were rather confusing; that two such different people could result from the same breeding pair baffled him. At least Tom and Jake shared many of the same traits, including height and physical appearance. Even if Jake was a better liar than Tom could ever hope to be.

Tom didn't want to do this, whatever 'this' turned out to be. For some reason his host was suffering under the impression that 'we need to talk' always meant something bad had happened, and he was trying not to think about what it might mean in the back of his mostly silent mind.

Not everybody wanted to go to the consummation huts straight off the bat. Which meant if they wanted to get cleaned up, they needed another spot to do so in.

Luckily, the city had just such a place: the great public baths. They were rather immense. And open, since the Moai didn't have much in the way of nudity taboos. There were private stalls around the edges, though, for those who weren't quite so open. Or just wanted to do a little 'private' bathing (wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more). It's traditional for the baths to take a while. After all, pretty much everybody here has just gotten married! Enjoy!

(Oh. And your clothes are going to disappear. Nothing personal, the Rapa Nui just want to make sure you have something clean and dry to change into when you've bathed. Isn't that nice?)

((Yep, there are public baths in the city. Have fun with it! And Jono's still outside the city. I just want to be able to get notifs after I ask for no notifications on the main post.))

Once Domalai made sure the crew was fully informed of what was expected of them in the upcoming rituals, he showed them over to where the Rituals of Judgement and Joining would be performed.

As they neared the gate that led into the city of Orongo, they could see many other people milling about, waiting for their turn to undergo the rituals themselves. The crew, of course, being a special case, are moved to the front of the line. Thankfully, everyone seems to be in a good enough mood that no one puts up a fuss about it.

The first area they were brought to had a simple stone circle, around which were three smaller circles. Two Moai priests were waiting there as they approached, and Domalai moved over to join them before speaking up.

[ooc: wait for subthreads to go up]

[ooc2: Ready! Tag away!]

Stacy's voice came over the comm, blaring across the entire ship.

||Attention, Attention. All personnel please report to the Observation Deck. Attention, Attention. All personnel please report to the Observation Deck. Attention, Attention, all personnel...||

The mouth in the main sculpture on Obs Deck opened, revealing a screen with the image of a mottled blue and purple planet, rotating slowly.
( Read more... )

Time for another mission, then.

He avoided the Sensoriums unless he was meeting Sam. Not because he didn't like them, of course, they were fine. Interesting. If he'd trusted his mind not to play a nightmare for public viewing, he'd have likely been more interested.

But as it was, his mind was a trap, and he was only too aware of how dangerous his memories could be to him. Iniss would turn it into battle zones, recreate famous battles, just so he could see, or recreate the pool if he was feeling homesick and lonely. Tom tried to avoid changing it at all and let Sam control the settings.

Today Sam had been late, or he had been early. Either way, he was alone. Alone in something he could easily turn into a weapon of mass mental destruction.

He kept his eyes closed, laying on his back. Thinking very firmly of nothing but the grass under his back, the weight of old jeans on his legs, and the sun warming his face. Nothing else existed. Nothing but him and the empty field he had sprawled in.

Aside from the comatose state she reached after Cassie finished her post-exorcism first-aid, sleep hasn't come easily to Eva since the possession. What little she's gotten has been interspersed with nightmares, so it's while all the Animorphs are sleeping that she slips out of Cassie's house and finds herself at the Drunken Dragon.

It's all too much. Too much going through her head and too much space alone in there. When she woke up it was because she was thrashing in her sleep and accidentally smacked her head into the bedpost. She found that she was clawing at her scalp while she dreamed.

She needs to feel a little bit out of control again, by her own doing, because that means less control that other people can take away from her. And she needs to dull the knowledge of how many bad memories she dredged up for Marco by going and getting herself possessed.

"Wine. Whatever you have. Keep it coming," she says, then, as if clarification is necessary, "I'm going to get drunk."

(( OOC: Open post but since Eva's going to be bemoaning the state of everything everywhere, please poke me first if you want to throw a character she's never met before at her. ))

[[OOC: Closed to the people on the exorcist list but please do not comment until Daimon sends for them.]]

After possibly hours of chasing after his darksoul, Daimon came to a stop in front of St. Peter's Basilica in the Vatican. He could sense its presence inside but why? Why return to a site that, though uprooted from its world, still held strong spiritual power? Daimon could think of several reasons. The darksoul might have returned to mock his faith- highly likely. There was another possibility, one that was not precluded by the other.

The darksoul chose this place to take a stand, to exercise his full power. In which case he was now in the Vatican to show that he had the power to withstand any future attacks. It was a warning- enter at your own risk.

Daimon opened the door and stepped inside. He thought he was prepared for whatever faced him next. He could not be more mistaken.

This was very likely the most normal his life had been in the past four years. There was something sad about that, but he wasn't thinking about that right now.

Right now there was Bobby with his head resting on his thigh and a movie from his childhood playing on the TV and his head was completely his own. All good things, comfortable things, safe things.

It was relaxing, and that was all, the wag of Bobby's tail and the quiet voices from the TV. It was nice to do something that didn't need to mean anything.

[[OOC: This right here is required reading if you're going to tag. OOC organization is here

For too long the firstborn son of Satan's demonic soul had been trapped, denied his rightful control over Daimon's body. Now, thanks to Mei-Xing, he was finally free. The next course of action was obvious- he would have to take control of one of the beings on this ship. He could start with the vulnerable and move on to the more powerful. He had to act fast before that fool recovered. Fortunately he needn't go very far. The city was full of potential victims.

Now, now. Who to possess first?

Iniss stared at the slop, willing it to turn into something marginally palatable.

The slop remained inert and gray.

< I don't think it's going to magically morph into a cheese burger, Iniss. You may as well eat it before it gets all cold and congealed and starts tasting worse. >

< I can stand the taste, it's the texture that's soul crushing. It's like someone put old tires and used gym socks in a blender and decided to serve it for lunch. >

< I think I'm just glad you get to be the one that actually has to chew it. Yeerks are useful for something after all. >

< You know I could give you control, I'd even give the appearance of being charitable. >

< Give the appearance of being charitable, in reality being sadistic. I bet Dani would be proud. >

Iniss huffed, taking a bite of the food and forcing himself to swallow it without tasting it. His host couldn't help but rub that in, could he? Useless brat.

Those heading to the sensorium after Commander Rahk's announcement would find themselves inside a rather technologically advanced looking base, a number of armored soldiers bustling about.

Rahk himself was there, standing in front of a command station with a large screen overlooking the waiting battlefield outside, which appeared to be the ruins of some advanced city. By the serious look on his face, he was certainly ready to get this test underway.

[ooc: tagging's open! get going!]

[ooc2: sorry for the confusion, the other sections are open for tagging too.]

Dean had stepped in to watch. Only for a moment, but it was enough to reach the depths where he had buried it all. And bring it to light. Just for a moment.

A moment enough to make him run outside, and bend over, puking up the remains of the slop from earlier. A unsteady hand briefly rose up to wipe the sick away from his lips as he stood up again. He didn't realize how much he was shaking, or how as he watched, he remembered Alastair's careful instructions. He didn't want to think how the demon would have approved, and felt it was an excellent demonstration.

And he really didn't want to think how he could have *improved* on it.

He stumbled his way along to the hangar, and fumbled with opening the car door to the Impala.

"Honey, I'm home," he gave a shaky half crazed laugh as his hand touched the familiar seats. He curled into the back, his knife and gun ready by him like a child's preferred teddy bear. He stayed like that through the night.

Who knows why the ship was doing this. Maybe it was some kind of social experiment. Maybe Stacy was feeling festive and somewhere, out there, it was Halloween. Maybe the players just wanted to have Halloween fun. No one would ever know, would they.

In any case, what better place for a Halloween dance than a graveyard? In an area in the center, clear of headstones, there was a dance floor, and there were seats and tables with skeletal frames. Somehow grisly carved torches and jack-o-lanterns of varying sizes and shapes, cast enough eerie light to light up the place, despite the fact it was night. There were places to bob for apples, popcorn balls on strings strung up for people to try to eat for games involving that. The food tables will full of Halloweeny snacks and candy.

Far off, there was a haunted house, decrepit and foreboding. It seemed people could look into it if they dared sent down the dark trail to where it was. [ooc: Haunted house post link forthcoming].

Creepy--but danceable music was playing, from nowhere.

Perhaps most notable was the fact that the moment someone entered the Sensorium, they would find themselves in a costume. Sometimes these costumes would be what the character themselves would choose, but sometimes they'd be dressed as something strange, embarrassing, or just something they wouldn't even recognize. Leaving and coming back wouldn't fix the problem, in most cases. The costumes wouldn't change, and if they did, it wasn't guaranteed that they'd change to something better.

Whatever the case, party hard, Meatship. Somebody's got to teach the Vikings, draconians, aliens, and other sundry people to Thriller dance.

Thanks to Kang, Marco had a name for who to look for - Sam Winchester. And it hadn't taken too much digging to find out that a good place to look for him was by an Impala in the hanger.

Come to think of it, hadn't there been some guy ages back who'd called up an Impala in the sensoriums? What was his name again? Dave? Dean? Dan? Marco might be looking for a Sam, but maybe there was a connection there.

Stepping into the hanger, Marco was immediately hit with the sounds of Metallica. He grinned to himself - nice, very nice - and started heading towards the source of the music, scanning around for any Impala's as he went.

He was fidgeting, conscious enough of every move he made to know he was fidgeting.

But even if he knew he was doing it, he couldn’t make himself stop. Just the simple fact that he was moving his fingers, and Iniss wasn’t commenting on it in the back of his head was enough to make the motion repetitive, a nervous habit.

It had been a long day. It had been a long…god…forever.

Somehow he didn’t see it ending any time soon.

And now he was getting other people involved. God, when had his life gotten this pathetic?

He felt empty, and every time he grew conscious of it, his stomach flip-flopped. It was his body. People kept telling him that, at least. So why was it so hard to remember that someone else wasn’t supposed to be the one directing it?

He swallowed roughly, staring at the door and trying to remind himself that Sam had said it was ok. And Sam wouldn’t have said it was ok if he didn’t mean it.

He still felt like a bother. He should be able to fix this by himself.

He finally managed to lift his hand, knocking softly at the Winchester’s door.

Trudy wasn't much of a programmer, but she thought she'd finally gotten the Sensoriums to understand what she wanted. The simulations of Zokez II had been modified to have all their pilots removed from the sim. Now it was just swarms and swarms of Ohm.

But the arriving pilots wouldn't know that right away - one of the things they trained on the least was actually getting into your ship and getting out the hangar door, and now that they had the carrier, that was even more vital.

So when the pilots arrived in the Sensoriums, they would find themselves not in Stacy's hangar, but in the hangar bay of the Macross Quarter. The fighters and gundams were arrayed throughout the hangar in neat ranks, all ready to go.

Trudy herself stood in her eyesore of a flight suit, her helmet tucked against her hip, waiting to greet people as they came in. She had some new faces to meet, after all.

But before anyone could get too comfortable, the wailing tones of Stacy's red alert sounded through the Sensoriums. [[Attention crew]] came Stacy's voice, [[We are under attack. Repeat, the Ohm are attacking.]]

"Get to your fighters! Rogue Two to the bridge - Wash, take us out!"

((OOC: Anyone currently in Starfighter Command or interested in joining is free to participate and hop in a cockpit. Shuttle pilots and crew will be manning their shuttles. The command staff and the council are welcome to observe the exercise but Trudy would prefer no civilian observers. Have fun! Shoot the Ohm with yer lazors, pew pew!))

Leon was, somehow, 900 kajillion light-years away from everything and everyone he ever knew. But what was he doing right now?

Walking through a ruined city that was crawling with raging infected in an attempt to locate and rescue any survivors. Again. Not that this work wasn't his stock and trade, but one would think that fate would have something else in store for him. But what is, is. At least he wasn't completely on his own, this time, having gathered a small group to go in and help.

With the virus having leaked out here initially, there was no telling where the hot zone was, so as a precaution, he (and anyone else who went) was wearing a modified combat-ready environment-suit. It was fairly light weight, but had some added padding in addition to body armor, and had ts own re-breather to supply air. In addition, he had a few weapons with him, as well as several clips of 'specialty' ammo, since he really had to be ready for anyone to be infected.

He moved through cautiously, looking for anyone who needed help.

((OOC: Open thread for anyone, infected or not, stuck in the city, and for anyone helping with the evac. Interacting with Leon isn't required, and you guys can free thread amongst yourselves if you want.))

Le Prefecture De Police was an impressive building, but that wasn't the reason it had been chosen by the members of the civilian council; it had been chosen because none of the Councilmen (and women) had any ties to it, making it neutral ground. There was also the potential for everyone to have an office with a desk in the same general vicinity if they so chose, making communication easier.

One of the larger rooms had been cleared of most of the furniture, except for chairs and a few tables. It had been left up to each individual where they wanted to sit, and how, since they were all currently equals.

The Council had a lot to discuss. They had yet to choose a chairperson, and three major issues had popped up in a relatively short amount of time: Mei-Xing's clone, Schmuz and Iniss the yeerks, and whether there should be mandatory physicals and/or psychiatric evaluations for the crew.

They were also going to have a few guests presenting information, but at the moment, people were still arriving.

Somehow, Sam wasn't surprised to find himself in the brig when all was said and done. Whatever else, Schmuz was an escaped prisoner and he'd been sentenced. He still had to serve that, even if he was in Sam's head. Of course, he was under no delusions that Schmuz was the only reason for it, given the history of the ship and possessed (or formerly so) Sam Winchesters.

On the other hand, it wasn't like Schmuz was really saying anything, either. After Rhiow had taken them to the pod caverns and he'd seen the damage the one bomb had done, the Yeerk had pretty much stopped talking to him. Knowledge that one of the heroes on the ship had died trying to disarm it hadn't exactly made him talkative, either.

He sighed, leaning back on the bed and looking at the ceiling. "I never thought I would miss the Greek chorus, you know."