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nexus_crossings2019-02-02 12:56 pm
handsofwinter) wrote in nexus_crossings2019-02-02 12:56 pm
Entry tags:
Into a Rising Wind
Winter holds the Nexus in its jaws, and its teeth sink ever deeper.
A month into the storm, the snow has yet to stop falling. The number of mouths to be fed has stopped dwindling, almost. Occasionally people go missing, and those who notice hope they’ve found a way back through their portals. It’s not enough to change the maths on their food supplies - all their supplies. Nobody is getting a full meal at a time, not any more. Isidor and Lyall have begun to enforce the rationing with iron hands. Both ignore the look that crosses Captain Kirk’s face when they upbraid a volunteer cook for being too generous – the look that lingers on Runa’s face if she’s close enough to hear. They’re doing what they must. They need a tight hold on their supplies if they want to get people through this. They need supplies even to send expeditions after more.
And expeditions are a difficult prospect now. Those who ventured into the storm and returned have brought stories that spread faster than Isidor hoped. The Crossroads Cafe has become a semi-official hub for those travelling outside or keeping watch on the bounds, a safe resting place kept warm by the combined power of Pokemon and Persona. In the long dark nights, people sit around the tables and share what they've seen, what they've heard from this scout or that refugee. Whispered tales of the creatures out there hunting in packs, hounding people from rooftops, even tearing open walls to reach them…
No-one goes out alone, now. Those brave enough to take the risk go in groups and arm themselves with the best weapons they can find. Sometimes they’re a risk to themselves. Not everyone knows how to handle that black market plasma pistol they picked up two days past. Not all of their team-mates keep their nerve when a figure looms out of the snows beside them. Sometimes it’s hard to tell who’s run afoul of monsters, and who of their own folly. Safer, but little less brave, are the people recruited to keep watch on that shifting line of torches. Just a precaution. The creatures don’t come past it, everyone says. But quietly, everyone doubts.
There've been bright moments, too. A strange alchemist comforting a lost child. An expedition team fighting their way home, back to back. Families brought safely through the snow by soldiers and wizards, by heroes young and old and sometimes surprising. A volunteer cook stepping up to prepare, if not quite a hundred thousand meals, then something that feels close. A young man saving the life of a stranger who'd threatened him. The past weeks have seen people who may never have known one another before come together to offer a blanket, or guiding words, or a helping hand in a search. Small moments, glowing reminders of how much good the people of the Nexus have on their side. But the Winter goes on, and the winds never get less bitter, and the smiles get more strained with every day.
Slowly the line of torches close on the Plaza, a noose no-one can afford to flee. Sheltered space is at a premium. Most of those who remain are settled as close to the centre as they can be. Whether in the big public bunker or the Cafe, people find themselves crammed all together, and tempers regularly fray among residents not too cold and exhausted for fighting. The more responsible Nexus-goers find themselves trying to duck out of (or break up) fights, or spending hours stuffing drafty accommodation with any insulation they can find. There’s snow to be shoveled from doors, pipes to be defrosted, bandages to be changed. Anything’s better than dealing with the problem of working bathrooms.
At one end of the Plaza headquarters, a makeshift screen has been dragged into place to give a semblance of privacy to Isidor’s desk. It’s painfully early in the morning, though the nights are so long and the days so dim beneath the storm clouds there’s little sense of time any more. There’s no-one around yet to wonder about the meeting going on. The only people present are Isidor, Lyall and a handful of senior volunteers – those who remain. Blaze-37 crouches by a makeshift fireplace, stacking the salvaged wood just right before she punches it lightly, setting it alight with the flames that ripple over her fist. The other robot, Ghost, is hovering over the desk playing flashlight for them, shining a pale beam over the maps and reports laid out there. Light, too, is a precious resource, as batteries die and outlets are lost to encroaching Winter. It’s the only reason those here have gotten sleep. They work until they have no light to work by.
“Shouldn’t we wait for Suou?” the Guardian asks when Isidor says they can begin.
“Officer Suou won’t be coming.”
That’s part of why they’re here, Isidor explains. The torches’ march has taken them past the Grand Library. The Crossroads Café is now on the very edge of the safe zone, along with all the people sheltering there. Katsuya’s magic is the only thing that will protect it. He can’t leave. It’s a turning point that only drives home the larger problem: they’re running out of time. They’re running out of everything. Most refugees are in some kind of shelter by now; what they lack is food to keep them alive and fuel to keep them warm. Isidor’s volunteers have counted heads and counted tins and counted everything backwards and forwards and the numbers never get better. Either they do something now, while they have the strength, or the meals will run dry in two weeks. Less, if anything goes wrong.
She lets that sink in. Nobody looks surprised: she’s confirming their worst suspicions and that gets a few flinches, but they understand. They talk, instead. By the time there’s a hint of daylight outside and someone knocks on the door for the first shot at rations, they have a plan. They need an expedition, bigger than any before. They need enough arms to discourage attack, the skills to get them to any buried supplies and the numbers to haul them back in quantity. Each of them walks away from the table with a mission in mind and an air of grim determination.
They have a job to do, and they’re going to need help.
((As before, so below: the main missions/subquests for the expedition prep are listed below. Tag any of them, threadhop, or post with your own character. I suggest putting your character’s name in the subject to help keep things clear. The OOC Post can be found here! If you have any questions, feel free to message me or one of the mods!))
Threads of Note
Scouting the Expedition | A Fistful of Torches | Scrapyard Sweep | The Home Front | Medical Attention | Isidor's Expedition Call | Main Expedition: The Raid
Harley Quinn: Gangs in the Industrial Sector
Harley left behind the tense conversation she had with Captain Kirk to focus on the mission he had assigned her. Head into the Industrial District and check into the gangs who were posing a raiding threat.
But even with that assignment in mind -- Harley still much on her mind... questions left to answer, and mysteries to solve. And perhaps she could stumble upon something. Anything.
She kept her senses alert for any sign of trouble. It might not be the wisest decision to be embarking out alone... but right now, it seemed best to find a little space from everyone else.
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Although it'd be a pretty weird snake to be out in weather like this, right?
Weird enough to leave a strange crystalline skin, the color of arctic ice, hanging from a fire escape on one of the buildings. From the look of the skin, the snake--if indeed it was a snake--that left it must have been close to twenty feet long.
Even at that rate, it's probably less of a threat than the gangs. Probably.
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What kind of animal would leave crystalline skin like that? And isn't this weird weather for a snake to be out in?
She stands, taking a hold of her bat and swinging it at her side... and continues forward on her path. Just being a little more cautious now.
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There's a distinctive gold pattern on the head, twin curves like a horned helmet.
The serpent lifts its head higher off the ground, until its face is roughly level with hers, and just watches her.
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And since it is only polite to speak to the creature, since he has raised his head higher off the ground to watch her... Harley does just that.
"Ya know... my good friend Red would say that seeing a snake would mean that you are close to a very healthy environment." Harley glances around the white and gray landscape. "You must know some secret the rest of us don't."
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"What's healthy for a serpent may not be for a human. What's healthy for a god almost certainly is not." The head weaves left, right, tentatively closer. "There is an abundance of prey here. You could be part of that abundance, dearest. Was there no one worthy of accompanying you, that you're out here all alone?"
He's not scolding. Actually, it's convenient for him that she's here alone, where he can at least get a look at her and see how she fares. Physically, she seems perfectly fine, but there's a darkness in her that calls out to the same darkness in him.
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"Sort of hard to share any abundance when the everyone is building damn walls around themselves right now. Ain't sharing information. Ain't sharing gratitude. Ain't sharing concern."
"And I don't know why I expected differently. It just like being in Gotham all over again. Everyone only caring just enough for themselves. Follow our rules. Trust in us... even though we ain't sharing any of the information that is important to those out in the field."
"I half expect to have Waller taunting me right now. With her damn 'blow up your head' button." Harley puts her heads on her hips.
"Am I supposed to go back and beg someone to accompany me? Be that last one chosen for dodge ball... just hoping someone wants me on their team?"
"I can do something good out here... not that I expect anyone to recognize it. I have been in worse situations than this... and I know I can get out of it." Harley shakes her head again. "I can escape the madness of it all... by being out here."
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Namely, alienation.
"Have you ever seen what happens when you pack a snowball too tightly? Squeeze it until it can't bear the pressure? It breaks, and the pieces slip through your fingers. But no one will ever thank you for pointing out how rigid and inflexible their grasp has become. They have the strength of their convictions."
"Now, me? I don't have convictions. Or, if I do, they are very deeply buried. I have goals, instead."
"And my goal now is to grow, to stretch my limits, and see what I may become."
His head drops a little lower to nuzzle and slide against her shoulder. "They would fall at your feet, if you truly turned your mind against them. Not that I encourage you to do that, but I would have you know that I see the power in you, whether they do or no."
"What do you want, my dearest? What is your goal? If it is merely to hang on until the weather breaks and then return to a life more comfortable, there is no shame in that. But if it is change, or something even greater, now might be the time to seize the chance."
He knows she's trying to do good, and takes no issue with that, really. But there are a lot of ways to do good, and sometimes the easiest way is to simply distract yourself and refrain from doing bad.
"I tell you this, because it's similar to something I was told not long ago. And it is why I am out here."
no subject
"It is too much like being in Arkham for me. Every whimper. Every soft cry of desperation. The smell of fear. The screams. The blood. And uncertainty. The close quarters. Being told when to eat and how much..."
"None of them realize how easy it would be for me to turn my mind against them right now." She stares at the white landscape of the Nexus.
"There is no returning to what I once had. Things will change. The apartment got broken into... Cricket had to defend himself. And I really don't know if he will feel safe there anymore. If any of us will be able to call it home again..."
"And I might not know what awaits me when the weather breaks... but my goal is to see what changes are being asked of me. And where that might lead me. And ya know what... really I might make some demands myself."
Distraction is the best thing for her right now. "Who was your snake in the snow? Giving you advice?"
no subject
"There is no real constant in existence, save change," he says with a sigh. "You're right. Cricket is alive? Uninjured?" Because his alternate will be furious, either way, but if the boy is all right, they will both manage.
"You will rebuild. I know how tiresome it gets, but you are strong enough to break and then come back together again. You are a Valkyrie."
He chuckles softly at the question. "None other than Winter, himself. And I cannot fathom what his ulterior motive might be, but for my part, his advice rang true. I am not human, nor truly mortal. I have fallen through the Abyss, been torn apart and stitched back together, committed and seen horrors. And I have been trying to be the same Loki once so loved by Thor. It's not working."
"I hope that whatever I become will be something you can care for, and trust, Harley. Though I cannot promise that. But I value you beyond worlds, beyond stars. You are worthy, and beloved, whatever may come."
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"Sometimes I wonder how many times I am pushed to breaking before it becomes too much. Especially now... I feel tested. And I wanted to know why."
She turns to face his snake face when he answers her question. "He must have seen something in you then."
Harley has no reason to dislike the Winter spirit. Her heart is the type to wish the best for him too... just like she does for others she meets. Besides he really has not moved against her personally and has no inclination for 'justice' right now. But she knows there are many others who think otherwise.
She blows a bubble, allowing herself a moment to think her response to him, after the last statement. "You can either become that something... or you can't Loki. I don't want to be your 'reason' for change. You have to change because you want to. Because you want to be the best Loki you want to be."
The cold seems to make her shiver a little. "I don't believe in false promises anyway. I have heard too many in my lifetime already."
"I really don't know how our relationship will change. If we should be 'just friends' for now... while the both of us get our heads together. Or if we can both be strong enough and willing to work towards something more. Something special."
"But no matter what we become... I want you to know... that I value you too. Very much so. You have influenced my life so very much." Good thing it is too cold outside right now. Her eyes won't get misty with her emotional state.
no subject
"I think we are all being tested. And I am not certain what the endgame is, but I think we will all find that at least part of the lesson is to strip us all down to our most basic natures. The rawest materials of which we are made."
"And that is a good enough reason for me to avoid the more populous areas of the Plaza now. Because I am a specific kind of monster. Not the kind that glories in slaughter, perhaps, not the kind that relishes torture, but a monster nonetheless."
He nuzzles her again. "I was not suggesting you are the reason for change. I know you wouldn't thank me for changing for you, any more than you would thank me for asking you to change for me."
She's had quite enough of the latter to last her the rest of her life, he's sure. They haven't talked much about Joker, but he's heard enough to guess at that. "I must change or die, dearest. That's all there is to it, really. Like a snake shedding skin. This is a meditation, not merely a game of shape-shifting."
"In the end, we will either be drawn closer or pushed further apart. I hope it will be the former. But I thought perhaps you would appreciate a reminder of how strong and powerful I know you are. There is no question in my mind that you will survive this, though it may leave marks on you, as it will on me."
"Whatever we become, I will continue to believe in you."
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"So why strip down only a certain few?" Harley knows she isn't asking the right person. But she doubts the right person has any notice of her.
She leans into the snake nuzzle with a soft sigh. "I know you weren't. You see me in a way few others do."
"I want to support you... in the change you seek, Loki."
"And I hope it will be the former too." She presses a soft kiss to the top of his snake head. "I will continue to believe in you too. And... still believe in a possibility of 'us'."
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Loki's head bobs and weaves, watery-pale winter light glinting off the scales, and then he twines around her shoulders in a kind of hug. At this size, he'd be too heavy for a normal human to lift, and so he only rests a few feet of himself against her, but as strong as she is, maybe she could carry him nonetheless.
But there's no need to right now. "Who, dare I ask, do you think has made a deal?"
He leans into the kiss a bit, eyes closing, and for a moment he has a wild urge to tell her he loves her. That they may not be compatible to be in love, after all this, but emotions and situations simply do not always line up, and that does not make the feelings less valid. But this is a terrible time to be fraught with emotion, and so he murmurs, instead, "I do, too, and I am grateful. My dearest."
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"Did he ask you to grant him a favor?" She asks softly.
She leans into the snake wrapped around her. And sighs grateful at the way he is holding her. Supporting her.
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"Did Reynard ask me a favor? No, not at all. He spoke of being Other, in a world that seems made for a certain type of person. I think he meant mortals, mostly. Humans, specifically. But what he said rang true for me."
"I was never wholly Aesir. I am of Asgard, at least in part. But that is not, and cannot be, the whole and sum of me. I think that you tread the line between light and dark, in much the same way I do."
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"I may. But I am still mortal." That is something that can not change. She might walk a thin balance between light and dark. But death will someday claim her. Perhaps even during this very winter... the way she is putting herself in danger to help others.
"If this world is made for a certain type of person, I do not think that I qualify. So I can see why he feels the way he does."
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"I cannot be certain of his sincerity, I suppose," Loki reflects. "Perhaps he told me a truth he knew I would listen to, in order to distract me from some other part of his designs for the season. I won't know until it's over, if then."
"You know, in the end I think all things are mortal. Entropy will claim the multiverse itself, eventually. Even Time will cease to be. It's all about longevity and endurance, and what capacity for that each being possesses. In that sense, you are mortal indeed, but less so than most humans. Does that make you a different being? I don't know. That's your decision to make."
"But yes. I clearly do not qualify, either. My people have always been on the outskirts, the fringes of their society. Outcasts, or people with dark secrets, caught between one type of existence and another. I can promise you I will be here for you as long as you are one of those people, and love you, dearly, passionately, for the razor's edge you walk upon."
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"So me having dark secrets is to my advantage?" She smirks slightly.
She hums contently at the words of how he would love her. "I am a good balancer. That razor's edge is easy to walk some days."