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nexus_crossings2019-02-02 12:56 pm
handsofwinter) wrote in nexus_crossings2019-02-02 12:56 pm
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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
no subject
"But you know now, and you're still alive, and that's pretty good." He smiles at him. "Just remember you gotta do what you gotta do, and if somethin' looks like it might bite you, go ahead and bite it first."
"Did you ever hear that story about the frog and the scorpion? Where the scorpion asks the frog to swim it across the river on his back? The frog says, 'But what if you sting me? I'll die.' And the scorpion says, 'It'd be stupid if I did that, cause you'd sink in the water and I'd drown, and then we'd both die.' The frog thinks that's pretty reasonable, and agrees to carry the scorpion, and then as soon as they're in deep water, ZAP! Scorpion stings him right in the back of the neck."
"'Why??' the frog asks as they're both drowning. 'Now you killed us both!' And the scorpion says, 'Well, that's my nature.'."
"Some people're like that, too. And maybe that's what those creatures you bumped into out there are, too. Scorpions. They're doing what's in their nature, and negotiating ain't part of it."
"It ain't personal. But don't let 'em get close enough to sting you."
no subject
Palmer relaxes, appreciating the comforting gesture. He still remembers the blasts of gunfire and the sounds made by the creatures.
"I shot one of 'em. The one that was laughing at me - I figure I wasn't thinking when I did it, I just got mad and let my handgun take over. I think I was able to show 'em James Palmer wasn't about to be easy prey. First time I hurt somebody on purpose."
At least Furiosa and Harley had seemed to appreciate Palmer's burst of courage, something which wasn't lost on the mechanic. He'd carried himself a little straighter ever since he came back from the expedition.
"It was a little disappointing. I was hopin' there was a way to talk them down, or at least find out why they're giving us such a hard time. I mean, we Nexus people didn't do anything to them, at least as far as we know. I thought it might be a misunderstanding. But you got a good point about the scorpion thing. Some folks are just not good or reasonable, I guess." Palmer hadn't tried talking to the Thing, but if he had known it took human form he may well have tried. That almost certainly would have ended badly.
He manages to crack a smile. "That scorpion in the story sounds like a jerk."
no subject
He looks up at him with sympathy in his eyes. "You don't have to feel bad about it. You know that? Especially since you tried so hard not to have to hurt it. I was talkin' to a man earlier about what I did. He said I shouldn't feel ashamed for tryin' to keep myself alive."
"I think it was good advice. I think you can mourn a little for having to hurt someone, but don't let it bring you down. That defeats the purpose."
no subject
Palmer brightens a little at the sound of Cricket's laughter. He likes making his friends laugh, both at Outpost 31 and in the Nexus. He's happy to have made Cricket happy, at least for a while, before the winter closes in again and the fear returns. He's sure it will.
"You're right. I guess there's just some times when talking thing through doesn't work and you've gotta fight. Didn't enjoy hurting 'em, though."
no subject
He gives him hug and a thump on the back. "Once this is over and we ain't trapped and starving no more, you and me and Kinner and Forrest'll do something fun. Hell, we could invite Harley and Loki and some others too. Fish fry and picnic and lots of liquor, maybe."
no subject
He grins, appreciating the hug. Hugs made him feel better.
"Yeah, I'd like to hang out with your friends. I've never met most of those people. There's you and Kinner, but I don't remember meeting Loki or Forrest. If you like 'em, though, they must be all right." Palmer trusts Cricket's judgement. "Fish and liquor sound great by me. Maybe I'll try and bring in somebody from my world."
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"Well, mine'll tease you but he's mostly sweet. The other one's a little spooky, but I don't think he's completely bad."
no subject
Palmer chuckles. "Harley, though? I know Harley. Fixed up some yo-yos for her and fought the ice creatures together. That dog creature she has scared me at first. I dunno what breed it is, if it's even a dog, but it scared me."