⇨ POLARIS 2.0

[ringleaders]

Who: Everyone!
When: Days 110 - 114
Where: Polaris
What: After a mysterious explosion shakes the station, the staff of Polaris struggle to maintain order while the test subjects fight for freedom with the aid of hidden allies. Productivity info is here.
Warnings: More graphic experimentation.

THEORY & CONCLUSION↴ At the midnight between Day 109 and Day 110, something happens. For most people, it won't be clear what - yet, they are shaken by it just the same. Violent tremors appear out of nowhere, rattling the entirety of the Polar station, violent enough to throw sleeping test subjects off their bunks. The source is unclear, but there is a sudden flurry of activity from staff as power flickers and is lost in various parts of the facility. Subjects, for the most part, will be left to their cells while they try to sort things out. The next morning, the staff are late picking people up. It's more like 6:30AM than the usual 6AM when they arrive to take people to the farm, which is a bit of tardiness that is entirely without precedent. Any questions about the incident the previous night will be waved off with the explanation of 'technical difficulties' that have been 'resolved.' ► DELTA: The three new Deltas will be left in their cells for even longer, waiting to be picked up, instructed that they would be escorted elsewhere instead of to the farm. Around 6:45AM some unfamiliar technicians will arrive and tell them that they are here to begin their processing into Delta. They are led into a previously untouched section of the station, where they are invited into a somewhat more intimate medical room to be asked some cursory questions and given a check up. Then, their suits will be removed, and they will be provided with their new uniforms, which they can apply like normal clothes. Delta life begins there. There will be a top level for the initial parts of their processing to be played out. Ultimately, however, they will end up being given a tour of the new Delta facilities, which amounts to a waterfront area that borders the new apartments they'll be staying in, as well a small supply shop where they can pick up an allotted amount of 'amenities' per day, based on their level of productivity and other achievements. This includes luxury items like food, pleasant smelling soaps, or other hygiene related tools. There are even small things like decorations or pictures of other places available, though they are fairly expensive. The first day will mostly involve the processing, a tour, and some basic training regarding the new tools they will be using, such as the mandatory visors and basic computer access. The next day, observation shifts in the farm will start, as will participation in trials. ► FARMING: The Farm will continue as normal, though it seems like there are fewer staff observing it at the moment. The ones that are there seem a little bit more tense than usual. Power is still down in some places, but the Farm is thankfully still active. Sometimes the productivity turn-in scanners might be a bit glitchy, so try not to panic if it measures fewer points than you're due. ► TRIALS: Trials are continuing as projected, though with the most broad of experiments already under way, they may be more selective. If you have an idea for a trial you can be sure to share it with the staff, and they will take it under advisement! Any information you want to provide is encouraged, they will say, especially if it involves notable traits about you or your fellow test subjects - or perhaps behavioral patterns you've noticed. You might even be rewarded!

Comments

[chronosynthesis]

"And you really cannot remember anything that has happened here?" Where does someone even start with this? If it were just a repression or mind control by the Technicians, somehow that seems easier to solve.

He glances around, but they're far enough from anyone else he feels safe to continue. "Can you feel anything else different inside you?"

[atouts]

With his hand still held against his own chest, Childermass doesn't have to dwell on that particular question too long. Something does. Something that shouldn't be.

"A warmth," he says, quietly in hopes of only Syrlya hearing. "Which isn't what I normally feel. I'm too much of a Winter changeling to be anything of the sort."

[chronosynthesis]

"I can only think of one person who might be imbuing more than one of us with that sort of feeling." Ignatius, obviously. It's not familiar to Syrlya, but it arrived outside the usual pattern for him to assume it wasn't any Technician or experiment.

But he doesn't know what else it means, yet.

[atouts]

And Childermass just stares at him as though expecting him to actually say who. There's a lot of possibilities in his own mind right now, only he's relatively sure they're all missing or imprisoned one way or another. When no name is forthcoming, he'll just... shift his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other and drop his hand from where it was clenched against his chest.

"What do you think it means? Surely it's no coincidence."

[chronosynthesis]

Syrlya furrows his brow, having not considered he might have forgotten way more than just the past week.

"I'm certain it isn't. I think it is an opportunity we can take advantage of." He stops briefly, rubbing his chin. "Tell me, have you attempted to use your magic at all today?"

[atouts]

It's all a bit shaky. Names, faces, they're harder to grasp onto, to place. Syrlya's own name escapes him but he knows who he is, in a sense, only Childermass doesn't know just how to get that across. He remembers a faerie, one they freed, made of fire, so it could be that one... or the Ringmaster... or yet another, only who else would have connections to the both of them beyond the other two, well.

For now, he just steels himself to carry on, trying to follow what Syrlya's asking as well as he can, even if the question about magic only earns him another uncertain look. The sheer lack of magic before, another hole in his mind.

"I did," he admits, "Try to drop through a shadow. I could feel the magic there but it wouldn't go through."

[chronosynthesis]

Maybe it's just hard to completely forget the talking plant.

"Still not working, is it..." Maybe it didn't quite have the effect he was hoping for--or maybe he basically just exploded and died, but Syrlya feels like maybe that would have the opposite effect.

"The Mother of Invention is the one preventing our current use of our abilities. She is the Fae currently claiming us." Just in case that specific detail's been lost.

[atouts]

"There's a difference between not working and not having enough magic to transport an entire person through a shadow," Childermass points out. Had his magic not worked before? What nonsense is that? Though if another faerie is blocking it, that would make some sense.

"What of your own? Have you tried anything?"

[chronosynthesis]

Oh, that gets him to perk up a little. "So it responded at least a little?"

Maybe his initial hopes weren't unfounded after all. If Childermass could reach some of his magic... well, that isn't likely the Technician's doing, is it? Not if the Mother of Invention is trying to keep them locked down.

Though, for his own. "Ah--not since..." He glances down at his limper arm. "No, not for the past two days. Perhaps I will."

He needs to do something to get his arm working again, otherwise he's twice as crippled as before.

[atouts]

Childermass follows Syrlya's look down, to the arm. It hasn't been moving terribly much, that's true, but under the suit, he can't quite tell that anything is wrong. So, for now, he dismisses the curiosity and looks up again.

"Is there something small you can try? Perhaps we should take our work somewhere a little more out of sight..."

[chronosynthesis]

Syrlya's hesitance to try isn't quite along the possibility of failure, but he simply nods and angles his head to point down a path, drawing his hand back. "The orchard is a little more private."

Maybe, if one doesn't assume the possible cameras watching their every move. But if everything they do is observed, what good does trying to hide do anyway? Nobody's acted on this level of boldness so far, and Syrlya presumes that's because they've seen many failed attempts at freedom before and aren't too worried about low-level efforts.

[atouts]

Childermass will nod back to Syrlya and picks up the shovel he'd been working with in the field. Throwing that over one shoulder, he'll head off towards the orchard as casually as he can. Which is to say, looking miserable and not particularly inclined to go over there and yet... As one might expect from an imprisoned changeling, anyway.

He'll meet Syr over there, amongst the trees.

[chronosynthesis]

Syrlya will opt to take the path slightly different, just so it isn't as obvious they aren't going to conspire.

Once he finds Childermass again among the trees, he leans his back against one of them and holds his good arm out. He won't bother with any words before he focuses on pulling together magical energy, drawing strictly from the magic for his illusions.

It's purple, and starts to crackle over his hand. He raises his brows. "That's certainly more than I could manage before."

[atouts]

"Which means we can use magic," Childermass says, watching the purple crackle over Syrlya's hand. Just not enough for him to move through shadows, apparently, but he'll stab his shovel into the ground and raise his own hands, similarly, to try his own.

He holds his hands together, one cupping over the other to create a pocket of shadow between, and focuses. It isn't immediate, mind having to settle on what to build and then pulling it together mostly out of sight the way his hands are held. His magic doesn't give off any spark or real indication of use, not unless Syrlya can sense magic happening in its own right, but when he does finally lift his hand up and away from the other, a small bird made completely of darkness sits in it. It's more of a silhouette given more form than a real bird, not unlike the numerous shadow crows the magician is prone to leaving around the carnival.

[chronosynthesis]

Syrlya assumes, looking at it, that it is like his crow constructs. He's not much of an illusionist, after all, like Syrlya.

He lets the magic dissipate, leaning closer. "Can it still scout for you?"

[atouts]

Childermass considers the bird — more finch-like than crow — before closing his eyes and focusing on pushing his senses into the construct itself. Once he does, it looks up with its shadowy little head, suddenly acting alive. It looks around them, over at Syrlya, then falls back into its default position.

"It's harder to make everything out but yes," Childermass confirms, opening his eyes again. "I can. I won't know my range until I try, though."

[chronosynthesis]

He nods once. It's better than nothing. "Can you, perhaps, send it out before they lock you into your cell for the night? We need some idea of the layout before we go running off into it. If we can find where they are keeping out confiscated equipment, my bloodstone is among it... and of course there is the matter of finding Ignatius."

Is this maybe a tall order? Sure, but sometimes you have to reach high and catch whatever branch you manage on the way down.

He looks up suddenly. "The dimension the Ringmaster created, for the revival eggs... can you access it now?"

[atouts]

Childermass does not to the scouting plan. He can do that much simply enough but when Syrlya asks about the dimension, well, it gives him pause. He looks uncertain, though what else can they do? Not try to retrieve their supplies?

"It may be too obvious of spell to try with," he points out, cautioning him, "But I can indeed try. Stand back some. Get ready to run if it triggers anything."

And so he'll hold his hand out and, again, focus on a spell, muttering it under his breath as he tries to bring the egg dimension's door open.

[chronosynthesis]

Well, no risk no reward. Luckily, it does work--at least until Syrlya tries to stick his hand in like he's going to enter, and finds that he can't.

Hm. "... Does it respond to you attempting to enter it at all?" Maybe since it's small amounts of magic, only the person opening it can get in?

[atouts]

Childermass watches Syrlya try, then shrugs and moves to stick his own hand in. It passes through the portal with some small effort needed but it does go through, which is the important part.

"Hm. That would seem to be the way of it," he confirms Syrlya's guess, glancing back over at him. "I should be able to retrieve items from it, sure enough, but here and now likely isn't the best time for that, not unless you know you can hide something in the farm safely."

[chronosynthesis]

Syrlya's going to assume that hypothesis is right. He leans back a little, hand to his chin as he regards it.

"No, not now--you can close it, before they have reason to notice." Mentally he reviews what he remembers to be in there, besides eggs. Nothing that would immediately break them out, but--there's still equipment they could use when the time is right.

"But it is good to know it works, even that much." He glances aside. "Be careful not to drop in rank yourself, Childermass. I don't know what's happened to Lambert, but we cannot lose what little mobility we have before we can act."

[atouts]

He'll dismiss the portal with a wave of his hand, the gate closing immediately. It's when Syrlya brings up a name directly that Childermass seems to hesitate again, brow furrowing as he thinks, searching his scattered memories for some meaning to attach to it.

"I'll... try," he says, slowly, before adding, "Which one is Lambert again? I feel as though I should know."

[chronosynthesis]

"... Lambert. The Nightrider." The fuck. "Tall, gold eyes, horns like a ram. Do you remember?"

He thought it was just the past week missing. He remembered the dimension. Did he forget people, too?

[atouts]

The Nightrider seems to ring a bell since Childermass shows a much more immediate understanding of that name and the description both.

"I remember a man like that, yes. We spent most of our time together back in bathhouses..." Which makes him seem important, somehow, some way, but he won't dwell upon it. "I'm sorry. Names have been tricky. I know you're a part of the militia and that we've spoken enough times before but I can't pin a name down."

[chronosynthesis]

Syrlya's expression twists with concern. Just what the hell happened to Childermass?

"I am Syrlya. Does hearing that bring anything back to mind?"