Sanctuary RPG Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sanctuaryrpgmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sanctuaryrpg2016-05-13 09:22 pm
sanctuaryrpgmods) wrote in sanctuaryrpg2016-05-13 09:22 pm
Entry tags:
- ! gathering post,
- carson phillips,
- eric bittle,
- eric preston,
- erik lehnsherr,
- finn murphy,
- guinevere stringfellow hawk,
- ianto jones,
- jack harkness,
- james potter,
- kate stewart,
- lee fallon,
- maggie donnelly,
- marie,
- molly carpenter,
- nick gautier,
- porthos du vallon,
- remus lupin,
- river tam,
- rose hathaway,
- sabine manon liu,
- scott summers,
- sebastian vael,
- thea queen,
- tiny tina,
- will graham
And the station opens...
There were no flashing lights, no alarms. The doors to the quarantine chambers simply opened, the whoosh of seals breaking was the only fanfare.
Quarantine was on a quiet level of the station, a gently pulsing light set into the wall leading the chamber's temporary residents out into the station proper. Outside, station officials wandered by but paid no particular attention to the newcomers; new arrivals were nothing new to them, just a fact of life on Sanctuary. New people arrived in the chambers, station staff logged them, and the computers arranged everything else. So they went about their business, eyes glued to the screens they held.
Of course the newcomers weren't aware of any of this. Anyone who called out to the station staff was greeted with a wan smile and directed toward one of the many terminal screens lining the walls of the large open space between the central tower and the rest of the station.
The terminal screens asked for a fingerprint before offering any additional information. Their names flashed up with a map to their new home in the living quarters and some basic information on the currency contained in the chip in their hand and what it might buy them. A brief explanation of the silver communication unit followed, and then the news of the past twenty-four hours played. War on planets in a neighbouring system, the weather on a vacation world, sports scores for a game that seems a cross between lacrosse, hockey, and quidditch. Nothing of use, of course, nothing that could get them off the planet.
The quiet entrance to the living quarters was on one side of the atrium, and the sounds of a bustling marketplace that could not be contained came from a much wider opening on the other. People of all shapes, colours, and species walked through the space along with station officials and technicians using their tablet like screens, dark uniformed security officers chatting as they strolled their patrols.
The station carried on obliviously while the newcomers watched, each with only their credit chip, a place to live, and a basic outfit. Clearly that was all the welcome they were to expect; what happened next would be up to them.
[[Gathering post and opening of Sanctuary RPG. Put in your characters coming out their quarantine]]
Quarantine was on a quiet level of the station, a gently pulsing light set into the wall leading the chamber's temporary residents out into the station proper. Outside, station officials wandered by but paid no particular attention to the newcomers; new arrivals were nothing new to them, just a fact of life on Sanctuary. New people arrived in the chambers, station staff logged them, and the computers arranged everything else. So they went about their business, eyes glued to the screens they held.
Of course the newcomers weren't aware of any of this. Anyone who called out to the station staff was greeted with a wan smile and directed toward one of the many terminal screens lining the walls of the large open space between the central tower and the rest of the station.
The terminal screens asked for a fingerprint before offering any additional information. Their names flashed up with a map to their new home in the living quarters and some basic information on the currency contained in the chip in their hand and what it might buy them. A brief explanation of the silver communication unit followed, and then the news of the past twenty-four hours played. War on planets in a neighbouring system, the weather on a vacation world, sports scores for a game that seems a cross between lacrosse, hockey, and quidditch. Nothing of use, of course, nothing that could get them off the planet.
The quiet entrance to the living quarters was on one side of the atrium, and the sounds of a bustling marketplace that could not be contained came from a much wider opening on the other. People of all shapes, colours, and species walked through the space along with station officials and technicians using their tablet like screens, dark uniformed security officers chatting as they strolled their patrols.
The station carried on obliviously while the newcomers watched, each with only their credit chip, a place to live, and a basic outfit. Clearly that was all the welcome they were to expect; what happened next would be up to them.
[[Gathering post and opening of Sanctuary RPG. Put in your characters coming out their quarantine]]
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Not only was he not home, or in Kansas for that matter, a quick check of the sky told him he was most likely not even on Earth anymore.
"This is what you get for forgetting to click your heels three times, Nick."
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"I'm pretty well versed in musicals," he quipped, smiling despite the roiling in his stomach, "but I didn't think of trying the Wizard of Oz method."
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"Welcome to Sanctuary, fresh meat, I'm Detective Hawk, this weeks unfortunate liaison for new arrivals," she said, taking a drag on her cigarette before she continued, voice droning on without any sympathy without really paying attention to who she was talking to. "If you currently feel inclined to violence please restrain yourself from killing anyone so those of us in Homicide don't have to deal with your shit. If you do kill someone, please come see me and confess immediately, it saves on the leg work. Any questions?"
She always hoped they didn't have any questions but they always did.
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Now, the shoe was on the other foot...or would be if she wore shoes. And she had to say that she owed at least ten Drop Ins an intense apology. This was, without a doubt, the strangest thing that had ever happened to her., and given than she lived in a town that existed out of space and time with the rest of the world, that was saying something.
Maggie raised a hand and a small burst of flame appeared on her palm, dancing there before she extinguished it.
"Well. At least my magic still works. That's something."
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"That is cool! Are you a Siren?" She turned the woman's hand slightly, although her grip was light enough that the woman could pull away at any time without encountering resistance. "Where are your Eridium tattoos? Or are you like Maya?"
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Thea stepped out carefully, looking around her. There had to be an answer, a reason she was here.
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"Hello," she said softly, a warm smile on her face. "I'm Maggie."
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It gave him a flicker of hope, and Will hurried into the crowd, looking around for Molly's golden hair, so far unable to feel her presence. He tried not to think about it too much; the idea of being separated from Molly after everything they'd been through was unthinkable.
That's when Will saw a familiar profile. He blinked, making sure he hadn't imagined it, and when it was clear what he saw wasn't only in his head, Will pushed through the crowd.
"Thea," he called as he approached.
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She'd reached out with her senses at first, trying to find something to grasp onto only to find that her senses wouldn't obey her. Then she'd tried reaching for the connection she shared with Will. There was nothing there. It had been cut off. The space he occupied in her mind was empty.
That was when she really started to lose her temper. If she'd been taken away from him, even Mab wouldn't have been able to stop her from trashing this place and everyone in it.
Then she tried to access her power, determined to force her way out if she could, but it wouldn't respond either. Panic immediately replaced anger and for a horrifying minute, she thought that she might have lost everything. The panic only eased when she realised her power was still there, buried deep inside her but, though she could feel the edges, she couldn't draw on it. Even Winter was sleeping.
In the end there was nothing for it but to sit down on the bed and wait for someone to come and get her.
When the doors opened on their own, she walked out into the quiet room with a dozen or so other people. They looked at eachother warily as they made their way out into a wide area.
"Whoa." Molly murmured as she looked around. "I must have seriously pissed someone off."
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Which meant that there was a new fuck up on the block, after three years of ordinary living. Why was Marie even surprised.
So as soon as the door opened (anything to escape that horrible repeated message, what was this, communist China?), she was out of it, on her way to find anyone in charge or authority. It was better rolling with punches when you knew where they were coming from. She took one glove off and went for the source of the noise.
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They’d never been this vivid or… weird. Finn might like to consider himself creative, but his canvases were usually things that already existed; showing them in a new light or colour palate. Not something completely new he’d imagined. Never this many people. He’d have to wake up soon – his nightmares didn’t usually last long before he blinked himself awake. Didn’t normally figure out he was dreaming until he was awake. There wouldn’t be a Floss to cling to this morning, or Joel to pat him on the shoulder as ask if he was ok in hush tones. He was going to have to call his Mum. Suggest breakfast, he just needed someone familiar. Safe.
Why wasn’t he waking up yet?
His hands stung. A reminder that he’d fought against his surrounding at first. Hit on walls and the sealed door, but after no help came he had accepted he was stuck. Practically memorised the message spoken on repeat in an attempt to steady his breathing. Crescent moon shapes of red still highlighted in his palm from where his nails had clung.
“Wake up. Come on.” He whispered to himself.
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No sooner had she realized that she wept than the pain swept over her like a sheet of fire. Her mind burned and the fire clung like napalm to the sites where Ada and Leah had been. And Shola -- oh god, Shola -- the bond hadn't broken but it felt so stretched, so thin, as though he were in a different world.
She tried to leave, but she couldn't. The ghosts could have, but they wouldn't leave her. She screamed herself hoarse. Pounded on the walls until her fists were bruised. Retreated inside her skull to ignore the announcement every fifteen minutes that explained the bare minimum of her circumstance--that she didn't believe for a heartbeat.
If Sebastian Shaw was behind this again, she would murder him herself. And if Magneto... The only consolation she had was that Shola, Scott, and Nathan would tear him limb from limb for the slightest scratch.
After a short while, she retreated further, curling into the smallest possible space behind and beneath the cot, the way she had used to in juvie. Hiding. Hiding. Wishing her mind would shut down the way it had in the past, and taking comfort from the fact that it hadn't, because that meant whatever had taken away Ada and Leah hadn't killed everyone else she loved. They would all be here. Crowding her for help with the business they'd left.
When the doors opened, she had retreated so far she wasn't even aware of it. Someone came in to get her, said words she paid no attention to, and left her sitting, dazed, on a bench in an atrium.
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Marie wasn't that good with strangers and comforting. She pushed her ungloved hand in her back pocket and gently approached the woman. "Hey, hi?"
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"Finally!"
She grabbed the glass jar she'd laid on the ground next to her while she waited and tucked it under her arm, and darted through the doors. They hadn't given her back her clothes yet, and these boring hospital things weren't exactly inspiring. They were pretty comfortable, which was something. If this was Hyperion, they were doing a convincing job of hiding their true intentions, but Tina wasn't fooled. Sanctuary was Roland's city, not whatever this overly sanitized place was.
"Come on, Sir Reginald. Let's see who these psycho freaks are."
Outside the small chamber was nothing like she'd expected. There was none of the symmetrical artificial shrubbery that was ubiquitous in Hyperion establishments, none of the sparkling glass, gleaming metal, and clean lines that she'd grown used to seeing. This wasn't even the dark, oppressive laboratory from the Wildlife Exploitation Preserve.
In fact, it was like nothing she'd seen before in her life. She clutched Reginald more tightly to her chest, as if the tiny varkid might be the only thing shielding her from the world. There weren't any visible Hyperion guards, so that was something, at least.
"Where are all the bots?" she asked a guy passing by, but he only shook his head and pointed at one of the numerous screens. It requested a fingerprint, but she wasn't about to give any information about herself to Hyperion.
She took a few steps forward, eyes darting from side to side, trying to take in everything at once. There was a handful of other people coming out from similar rooms to hers, she saw, wearing the same kind of bland cotton clothing. She scanned them quickly, looking for Lilith or Mordecai or Brick or even Maya, and her shoulders slumped a little when she realised she didn't recognise anyone.
"This place is weird."
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I give her a shaky nod and shudder a breath. "Even weirder than the last place I found myself," I tell her, trying for a smile. "And scarier. Goodness, I thought Darrow was bad."
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When the door finally opened, he stepped out cautiously, every nerve raw as he assessed his surroundings. Nowhere he recognized. The thin, empty feeling where his link with Jean had been suggested he was a long way away from anywhere he should be. Not reassuring.
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"Y'all right, cher? No offense meant, but you're putting off enough waves to light up New Orleans during Mardi Gras."
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However when they were released from this quarantine (finally, a word he understood), the proud Prince of Starkhaven emerged, standing tall and determined to face whatever was about to be thrown at him. The first thing he noticed was just how bright it was.
"Oh Maker preserve us," he murmured to himself, glancing around to try and find anything that made sense.
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"I think it's just us, here. Us and the rest of the waywards."
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Good.
Maybe the Doctor was here... or many of them as had been the case in Asgard. That had been interesting. She'd take one though. In the meantime there was only one way to find out information, and that was to explore, find out just who was here.
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"I'm sorry, excuse me," he said, taking a step back and taking his hand away. "A bit disoriented here, my apologies."
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The door opened and he didn't hesitate to dash out, but then it was a place after his own heart. He recognized the mode of tech if not the tech itself and he started to take in everything. He cataloged it all and began to formulate a plan, and a plan B, and a plan C, and a back up plan. He'd learned all he could and when he was sure he wasn't going to be dead again immediately, he relaxed and began to wander the station, exploring not only his quarters, but many of the common areas.
And then he saw someone who sparked his interest and he flashed a most charming smile.
"Hello," he said as he came to a stop.
His eyes sparkled and he seemed so comfortable, so relaxed, he may well have been here for years.
"Captain Jack Harkness," he added.
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He had to get back to Lily. She'd be mad with not knowing where he was. He couldn't protect her from here.
The image in the confinement cell had told him over and over he was in a place called Sanctuary. Fine. Now he needed to get home.
He turned to a similarly clad person beside him. "Excuse me. You wouldn't happen to have a wand, would you?"
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He needs his sword back. If Treville finds out Porthos lost it, nearly the minute after he got it, he'll be cross. That's if Porthos ever gets to see the man again. He shakes his head, trying not to get so bogged down, but it's difficult when the situation seems so dire. "You," he growls at the first person he sees. "Where's my sword?" he asks, in French.
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Taking a step back, Sabine lifted her chin to survey the speaker and then answered in unaccented French, "If it is anywhere on this station, tall one, it will be in your quarters. Or so I am told. Whether or not you, or I, or anyone chooses to believe that is another matter."
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"Pretty doll. Pretty. Pretty. Don't muss your clothes or mother will be cross."
She was huddled in a corner, hands over her ears to block out the repeating message, rocking back and forth as she muttered to herself.
"Words. Words. Divide a whole into thirds. Pieces. Parts. Take bits out and don't put them back. Naughty girl."
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She skipped forward a few steps, paused, then peered through the door. There was a girl there, crouched in the corner like a caged animal, hands over her ears. Imprisonment did that to some people. Tina remembered them from the Preserve, the ones who didn't know how to survive on their own, the ones who died quickly. Her Mommy had told her that it was their responsibility to make sure as many of the test subjects survived, that they needed to remind them that they were people, not monsters, not creatures to be caged.
She moved forward slowly, trying to be obvious about what she was doing, but the girl didn't appear to notice her at first. She was older than she looked, Tina guessed, once she was closer. Maybe Maya's age.
"Hey!" she called out. "Hey, the door's open. You can come out, if you want. There's, like, a whole space station out here!"
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His illusions are shattered when the computer voice beings speaking, telling him about a minor infection that was detected (and is now cured), and then starts briefing him about the status of his cancer. Of the nine tumors he had before he came here, apparently five of them have been removed entirely, including two of them on his lungs. The bad news is that the rest of them are doing irreparable damage to his liver and left lung. The pleasant recorded voice tells him his liver function is at 21%, and that he only has 'approximately 67 days' remaining in his lifespan if he doesn't seek additional medical care.
He feels wrong and hollow when he steps out of quarantine hours later. He doesn't know where he is, and he realizes that if he's alone here, if he doesn't find Eric, that he doesn't care how soon he dies. Eric was the only thing driving him, and without that, without his friends, he doesn't want to fight anymore. He doesn't even have his wedding ring anymore, just a drab, beige prison uniform and the unsurprising knowledge that he's dying.
Taking a breath, Lee glances down the corridor. He doesn't expect to see anyone he knows, and he tries to find a calm, a center, the zen he had before. His heart aches, and so does his head, his entire body, but he's been here before, alone in a new place. It's another new start, and as much as losing Eric is killing him, he know he won't have to suffer it much longer.
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He's tired and he's sore and he's alone and lost and fucking broken by the time the door opens and he wanders out with blood smears on the thighs of his clothes where he's pressed his knuckles to them to try to undo the damage he's done. There's people all around and he tries to ask, but no one's talking to him. There's a terminal but what he knows about computers is almost nothing. He can find porn...but he can barely even access this.
So he turns away from the terminal in frustration, utterly despondent that he's in fucking Tomorrowland without a map or a clue, and all alone. Totally the fuck alone.
Except then he sees Lee and his heart bangs so hard in his chest he thinks it might explode. Not before he get to Lee, though. He can't have a heart attack until he grabs the man out of his own reverie and plants a kiss on his mouth. It never occurs to him, none of those cautionary tales of people turning up not knowing other people they'd known before. He doesn't even think of Neil who had been so fucking old, then vanished, then came back and knew nothing of what they'd gone through...
No, he doesn't think of any of that. All he's got on his mind is grabbing Lee and kissing him as hard as he dares with hands clutching at the identical clothes. Minus blood stains.
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She was starting to think she'd live in that room until she went mad.
Eventually though, they do open, and she takes a tentative few steps outside. She wants to run screaming at whoever locked her in there, but if Dimitri has taught her anything over the years, it's that that course of action probably won't get her anywhere. The clothes she's been issued are definitely not her style, and she picks at them while she walks, trying to get her bearings. This is nowhere she recognises, this is nowhere she's even heard of.
She's so thrown off guard that it takes her a minute to realise that she can't feel Lissa in her head. For the first time in years she is completely alone in her own mind, and she doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.
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Because it seemed the thing to do, Nick walked over and grinned. "Are we having fun yet?"
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The hours he had spent in that room had been hell. He'd kicked walls and cursed in every manner he could think possible. He's muttered, made empty threats, and when all else failed had curled into a ball on the bed and told himself that no, he wouldn't fucking cry because he was too good for that. If he could survive years of bullshit in Clover, getting bitchslapped by mother nature and dying, making a new life for himself in Darrow, he could do this without tears. His face remained dry, but he chewed his cheek until he could taste copper. He glared at the walls, the ceiling, the lights, but refused to acknowledge the tight ball of anxiety that had formed a deadweight in his belly.
He'd just wanted to go to college. He just wanted to be a writer and get published. But once again he'd been ripped away before he could even finish high school. High school.
At the back of his mind, he wondered how long it would take for someone to notice he was gone this time.
By the time the twelve hours had passed he was some cross between achingly empty and so unimaginably pissed off that it honestly made his chest too tight to breathe. Arms loaded with what was promised to be the building blocks of his new life he forced himself out the door and into the open, the items tight to his chest and his jaw set. It was too reminiscent of his first day in Darrow, of what had been the first day of his second chance, and he couldn't help but silently will that if it was all some sort of elaborate trap or joke that the powers at work just get to the punchline already.
He was just so sick of never getting to finish what he started.
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"Welcome to Sanctuary, fresh meat, I'm Detective Hawk, this weeks unfortunate liaison for new arrivals," she said, taking a drag on her cigarette before she continued, voice droning on without any sympathy without really paying attention to who she was talking to. "If you currently feel inclined to violence please restrain yourself from killing anyone so those of us in Homicide don't have to deal with your shit. If you do kill someone, please come see me and confess immediately, it saves on the leg work. Any questions?"
She always hoped they didn't have any questions but they always did.
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