event } the honk is coming from inside the ship

[seeingyou]

WHO: Everyone left behind on Navi.
WHAT: There’s a goose on the loose!
WHERE: Anywhere on Navi.
WHEN: Feb. 20-March 13
WARNINGS: Add these to your comment subject lines as needed! And if the goose pecks through your skull, please make sure to fill out the death page.

Those of you who haven’t been swept off to a hell dimension may find that Navi is … unusually empty. Those links you had with your partner? It’s like they’ve just been shut off with the flick of a switch. Weird, right?

However, Navi’s halls are not exactly quieter for the emptiness. At first, you might think you’re imagining it, but soon enough, it becomes evident that there is something else on board this ship and it honks. The honking is intermittent, but it never truly ends for good. You’ll hear it through the walls, outside your cabin doors, on the next floor - everywhere.

After a few hours of this nonsense, Navi reaches out to the passengers via the mental link and asks them to find the source of this infernal noise and round it up so it can be ejected from the ship. It’s driving Navi nuts, they can’t tell where the honking is coming from, so they can’t take care of it themselves. It won’t be easy, because this goose is wily (and an eldritch being, technically), but it needs to be handled, and there’s no one else around. Good thing you’re still here to help!

Comments

Simon Reese | OTA

[bilocates]

This wasn't right. He shouldn't be here... wherever "here" was. Prison? No, too cozy for prison. All the rooms were far too comfortable for prison, he'd checked several upon waking, bilocating around as far as he could reach. Another hospital? Possible, but empty. Very empty. If that were the case, how? It has been more than two years, he's kept himself so well hidden, how did anyone catch him? And more, how were they keeping him here?

Or, worse yet, was it all in his head? Was he really that insane? That idea didn't make much sense, so Simon was quick to discard it. If it were simply a matter of very convincing hallucinations that he was suddenly coming out of he wouldn't be able to still bilocate. If he were hallucinating now why... in the hell is there a goose?

Answers weren't forthcoming jumping between locked and empty rooms, so Simon decided to try the door which to his surprise opened willingly. No locks. Not a hospital. So where?

He set out, skulking along the hallways searching for any signs of life. Semi-following that distant honking, part in curiosity, part in hope that it might lead him somewhere with answers. If this is the end of the world it's a whole lot weirder than he expected.

Re: Simon Reese | OTA

[imarealistnotacynic]

Richard Strand is not happy. Stuck on this ship, desperate for some sort of distraction with that ridiculous honking - he intends to ignore it. None of this was funny, it-

Something cracks in his mind. Something familiar. Something whispering as he cocks his head to the left. It was familiar. It was like...like-

He feels rather than sees or acknowledges his father hitting him in the shoulder, knocking him into the floor over the tall dark shadows across the hallway. He turns and his lips press together, turning another corner as the slap hits again. He rubbed at his shoulder as his head filled with creeping, the sounds of whispering.

It drowned out the honking. Something expanded in his mind, some great fluttering winged thing that made him feel better as he took another sharp corner, stopping himself before he collided with another man.

"...That damned goose"

[bilocates]

The goose will not be ignored.

Nor will that sickening, creeping darkness. Like an oil slick of smoke pressing upon his mind, thick and inescapable once it latched on. He sensed Strand, recognized him, and almost predatorily sought him out. Something familiar, someone familiar... better than this non-hallucination could present. If Strand were here there was a possibility Alex wasn't far off, and right now the skeptic presented the best source for answers.

Even if he had to pry them out of his brain.

Simon had paused just before the collision could happen, eyeing Strand in a way that was part amused and part... really unnerving. Maybe it was the way he didn't quite seem to blink. "Hello, Dr. Strand." He offered in that same slightly condescending and slightly amused tone he often offered to Alex. "What are you doing here?"

Actually... "And why is there a goose?"

[imarealistnotacynic]

Richard Strand freezes.

Hello Doctor Strand. It's so casually said that he turns and blinks. Richard's secret super power isn't that he's psychic. It isn't that he's intelligent. It's that he can seem totally put together at the drop of a hat. Drawing himself up he clamps a vice over his emotions before raising an eyebrow and saying in a pleasant (read: polite yet ice cold) voice, "Do I know you?"


That trickle. There is something about this man that he knows and some part of him is relieved there's someone else besides Alex here who knows what he's going through.

"Were you one of my students..." no, "Or someone I've worked with?"

The latter sounds right.

[bilocates]

That really is Richard's super power, though that isn't the part that catches Simon off guard. It's the question and the lack of a lie behind it. He really doesn't know. For a moment he looks perplexed, genuinely confused.

"You don't remember?" His brows knit, something almost like concern flitting over his... rather intently staring features. Simon doesn't exactly show concern well, but it wasn't like he considered Strand an enemy. Just someone stubbornly close minded.

The question earned an amused sound. "No. I'm not someone you would work with. You really don't remember me?" What have they done to him?

[imarealistnotacynic]

Ah.

Richard's fear dissolves into something more like disgust but the boy looks uncomfortable and that's making him feel uncomfortable. Or at least unnerved. Still he keeps his gaze up, "I don't know you no."

A pause, "Unless we meet later than expected." His features curl, "I'm apparently from earlier in my world's timeline." He's not telling this boy about Alex, never, "You and I are the only people from our world if you know."

[abstrusus]

Answers were boring, Simon. Embrace the unknown of honks and space, they'd say -- might say. For now, raiding the kitchen. Oh! Fingers dance in delight as the space is upheaved into a natural disaster in .2 seconds. Delightful strange tastes, but this? This? Boxed wine. Uncouth. It did nothing; well and matter of fact none of this did anything but that wasn't the point of indulgence.

Fine. Box open. Glass. Hand. And exit. Success.

And so they roam with no particular direction, no specific motive, and no real desire to find this source of honk. Let it honk. Troubled them none. They took in the sight of that endlessness, the stars, the unknown and unanswered and -- for just a moment -- let their head fall back in pure, simple bliss. It had been so long. Okay, so compared to the span of their life a few hundred years wasn't that long, they're being dramatic. Still.

Just. Delightful. Absolutely divine. What a splendid happenstance. Not quite free but free enough, they will take it.

Their wandering continues around the corner where another body walked. Whether someone wanted to focus on height and stature, odd features, or the fact that they wore taps on their heels -- there's very little that's subtle about them. Sickly white thick boned fingers taper off into sharp black. They scratch a line into the glass in Quin's hand. Shoulder leaning against the wall. Ankles cross.

"Do you dance?" Because that is obviously what someone would expect to hear.

[bilocates]

The unknown is disturbing and unsettling, Simon is the type who likes to know things. Who really enjoys being more informed than everyone else who should be informed, it's one of his favorite games. Being the cryptic Cheshire Cat leaving a trail of crumbs for others to follow.

This wholly unfamiliar, and possibly hallucinated, existence was far less fun than that.

Thanks to the time wasted and bickering from the group he just ditched he lost sight of the goose, calling back to himself for the moment while he reoriented. Only to bump into, well not literally, but run across something far more alarming than a goose that gave him a headache. This... being, whatever it was, was not wholly dissimilar from the shadowy entities and demons that preyed upon children to indoctrinate them into the end times Tiamat cult. Only rather than vaguely threatening this one seemed... friendly?

That might be worse.

Simon froze, staring at them for a long, unblinking moment. Perplexed and confused by the question, as it felt very much like he was back in Three Rivers where little in the way of conversation ever made sense. But this one wasn't insane like they were, they were just alien.

"...No."

Another long, long moment, still with that unblinking stare.

"Why?"

[abstrusus]

Eyes hollow and black stare back at Simon; head tilting to the side nice and slow. That sharpened point continues to draw a line deep into the glass -- seemingly now empty. Tap. Tap. Stop.

Time is ever abundant. For them, at least. But they allow that room to process. Nothing in all the universes is one-hundred percent certain. When even the smallest points of matter act chaotic and contrary, why would anything be certain? Although, it's reasonable to expect things that encourage or embody an end of sorts to be, at least, persistent.

"No," they repeated, slow.

Sliding from the wall, it took only a few steps for that distance to close. Spirit is anything but shy, nearly shoulder to shoulder with the man. Sharpened chin turning in. It looks like metal, the face. Clothing starts at the neck yet it almost seems like where skin should be there was nothing there. Actually nothing. As if someone could reach out their hand and go right through it (they can't, but they'll encourage the curiosity if ever it occurs).

They lean in, for just a moment. "Because I want to dance." A pause, pull back. Take a walk around. Grand gesture, but oddly casual. Seems like the glass is gone now, too. Where did it go? Did they eat it? Probably.

The amusement can be heard clearly in their voice when they pause to speak again. "Why else would I have taps on my heels? Do I seem like someone who needs the extra announcement of their presence."

[bilocates]

Few things in life were certain, this entity, whatever they were, was certainly one of the more unusual. Trying to peer into it, to make sense of it, was much like trying to stare into the heart of a vortex. The deeper he looked the worse that pounding headache from the goose became. So he pulled back, choosing to opt out of trying to understand this being's thoughts.

Whatever their motives were they didn't make much sense to him.

Simon continued to watch, staring in that strange unblinking way of his. They weren't one of the entities he had some experience with, but they weren't entirely dissimilar either. Were they after the children as well? No, he didn't think so. Not here.

"I don't know," He answered, leaning back and away from them. While they had no sense of personal bubble Simon had a fairly large one. He didn't much like being touched. "You like the sound?" The dancing was the most reasonable answer, sure, but why not both?

"...What are you?"

[abstrusus]

There was a lot to cipher through. If Simon had a question, they might be able to find some kind of answer within although understanding it may prove a little more difficult. Elusive as their mind was, Aether could clarify easier if physically asked rather than searched, usually. Still, they wouldn't stop Simon from searching. Eyeless features watched, that feeling ever present.

A few low chuckles vibrated up from the figure shortly after, and one step back when Simon retreats. Motive. What a human thing. Some other entities, Omega supposes, operate on motive but not many that they know. Mere nature was more common than any grand scheme. When time was so endless, who cared about something as trivial as motive? Feet coming together with a stomp. A gesture of their hand.

"There is that, too." Head rolling. Serious child. So let's be serious. Hands clasp and hang infront their body. "A spirit."

jack } open

[sisterswitch]

Jack is ... not good at dealing with loss. Better to just not form attachments to other people in the first place - that's how she's always functioned, and it's always worked out fine for her, right? She's an outsider anyway, so it's not like she has to work hard at not forming deep connections. In fact, Murmur is the first truly close friend she's ever made, so it's really no surprise she's having a hard time handling his disappearance.

When not in her cabin, she spends most of her time moping in the observation room. Find her seated on the floor and staring out the window at the vastness of space, or maybe playing a silent game of solitaire with her deck of cards. She might also be sprawled across a couple of the chairs, scribbling away in her notebook, thoughts and memories and sometimes a new sigil. Whatever she's up to now, it's definitely not hunting down the goose with the rest of the passengers. She's already done her proverbial college try on that front and found it unpleasant.

[abstrusus]

Aether may or may not have found the source of honk at one point, but clearly if they did the Honk survived. More likely, double the honking occurred for a short stretch of time. Now, they found themselves in the observatory. Simply basking. Marvelling at what they knew most intimately; at what was them, and what they were. Of course, Spirit was everywhere, but here was where it all began. In the nothingness that, so quickly, became everything. It was a destruction, a beautiful and extravagant explosion.

"Troubled?" When the other person enters, the elemental doesn't turn toward them quite yet. They're still enjoying the sense of being, in ways, more free than they've been in many years. Hundreds of them. This honeymoon will not last. For now, its fine. And curious. Aether does love curious.

So now they turn, sickly fingers brushing down clean pressed and slick black. Feet come together with a tap, stomp of their heel. Click. There was a commanding dramatism about this being, but it didn't feel forced or acted. And they have such a smooth, deep baritone voice... wherever it comes from.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" A hand waves absently toward the stars.

[sisterswitch]

She's troubled, yes, but not at all inclined to admit to it. Jack wears the facade of someone who is unbreakable, a strategy for survival in the world she inhabited up until a few years ago. If you don't have feelings, nothing can hurt you, right? So she doesn't feel anything except righteous anger at injustice, or so she's told herself since she was a child. Everything else is shoved down, out of sight and out of mind.

"Yeah ... it really is," she answers, striding silently toward the window and this decidedly strange person. Not human, not Kin - something else, but there are a lot of something elses to be encountered in the multiverse. As unusual as their mannerisms are, they at least seem genuine, not a pretentious affect. Some people are just Like That.

"It kinda reminds me of home," she says, sliding her hands into the front pockets of fraying black jeans as she comes to a halt in front of the window. "The openness of it all. I never thought I'd miss that." She gives the stranger a sideways glance and without skipping a beat, continues: "You're new here. I'm Jack."

[abstrusus]

A slow tilt of their head as Jack closes the distance. Yes, emotions -- you know what's truly incredible about the human experience is the fundamental access to choice. Not, counter to the waning beliefs of some, gifted by God -- although that figure of worship certainly exists. It was their nature, this capacity, this process. To actively choose. And Spirit found this such an incredible happenstance. For all their fragility, they were enormously powerful weren't they?

"Home," a beat. "Yes, it does." Came with a pleasant chime.

Then again, this wasn't strictly a human that they spoke to. Something quite old, they felt. Yet still, their thoughts remained. And for the briefest second, striking blue eyes appeared in the abyss of that darkness, regarding her for a short time before their body turned toward the windows again. The blue was gone.

"A pleasure," horns bowed, hand gesticulating outward before snapping back up straight. "Aether to some, Spirit, Quintessence. Omega," this name punctuated with a tapered point of their finger, "when it behooves me. These the most modern names, at least." If they went through every language, every known adaptation of them, they'd be here forever. Might as well keep it snappy.

[sisterswitch]

"A pleasure indeed." Even if this person is a foot and half taller than her, and looking up at them could very well give her a neck cramp. They're all unusual names, but she recognizes two of them from her dabbling research in alchemy.

"Do you prefer one name more than the others? I have strong feelings about being sure to use someone's preferred name."

[bilocates]

Some might say those are terrible coping mechanisms that are only going to lead to Jack missing out on opportunities and forming bonds that could improve her life. Not Simon, though, Simon wasn't a therapist, and he most certainly wasn't what anyone could call healthy.

After Simon's disappearance he had gone in search of the goose, though getting close was surprisingly difficult. The creature gave him a hell of a headache, which probably wasn't improved when at some point the ship's latest spooky crew member added to the honking. Why won't the honking stop?

It wasn't intentional when he stumbled into the observatory, pinching the bridge of his nose and eventually just coming to settle in an exhausted lean against the wall. Thankfully, he thought, no one was around to witness him having a moment of difficulty with... well honestly everything. Space. Being removed from his purpose. That fucking goose. A psychic ship he was still having something of a mental war with on and off as he was far too excessive and liberal with his efforts to interfere with their ability to watch him.

He's still not completely convinced he hasn't just had a psychotic break, but this definitely didn't feel the same.

[sisterswitch]

Unfortunately for Simon, Jack is here on one of her days when she's spending time writing things in her notebook, booted feet kicked up on the back of a chair. She's quiet and tends to stick to the shadows by nature, so it's not surprising Simon doesn't notice her right away. It happens to Jack pretty frequently, in fact.

But it can get a little awkward, especially if someone is having what they think is a private, troubled moment. Jack decides to make herself known sooner rather than later.

"You're not looking so hot, Lurch. Goose getting to you?"

[bilocates]

Quiet, shadowy, unobtrusive. No wonder he missed her with how overwhelmingly loud everything else was, Jack was a quiet blip on the radar of so much noise. Still Simon jerked, startled by her speaking up and more so by the fact he'd missed her at all. Quick to try to slap his composure back in place his eyes locked on her, though he remained against the wall where he was for now.

Of course he remembered her, though they hadn't exactly spoken directly during their first meeting. Too busy bickering with that other man.

"It isn't a goose."

[sisterswitch]

"If it walks like a goose and honks like a goose ... " She shrugs, and closes her notebook with the pen still inside. Pedantic types are so annoying, but if this guy wants to split hairs, Jack isn't especially busy.

"Then again, I haven't actually seen it, so maybe it doesn't walk like a goose. You're clearly the expert here. If it's not a goose, what is it?"

Sharon da Silva | OTA

[ungodlily]

It's barely a day after Sharon's arrival that she’s woken up by the quiet slapping of something on the floor and then the rustling of cloth. She almost doesn’t bother to check, begging for just another half hour, but the rustling continues and she opens her eyes just in time to watch a large goose pull her vest from the back of her chair and then escape out the door in determined haste.

What the fuck? She squints. No, really, what the fuck? A bird just stole the last gift her father gave her.

She’s quick to take after it, blanket tossed aside, her feet bare, but it rounds a corner and disappears, a deep honk echoing in the distance like some vile victory cry. She always knew geese were just mean snakes with wings but she never thought they’d be braggy little thieves, too.

It chose the wrong victim, though. Sharon follows after the occasional honk through the ship, single-minded in her focus. When she spots someone, she walks right up to them, her face scrunched in annoyance and roughly asks,”Hey, you see a stupid fucking goose come through here?”

This girl is out for blood. Goose blood.

[sisterswitch]

Wow, Jack is just minding her own business on her way to the kitchen, and now she's got someone up in her grill. Eyebrows raised, she takes a deliberate step backward. She happens to be a fan of personal space.

"No ... but I wasn't looking for it, either." She's made peace with cohabiting the ship with the feathery devil. Of course, her cabin is warded so nothing can enter without permission, so she hasn't had anything stolen.

"Are you also on the murder train? 'Cause I have to admit, I am not a fan."

[ungodlily]

The goose must not have come down this way given the other woman's response but her follow up seems to catch Sharon off guard, visibly confused, "...uh, no?"

It sounds like this feathered menace may have pissed off more than just her. She sighs loudly, shifting her weight to one leg, arms crossing. So help her, if someone kills the thing before she locates her vest...

"It woke me up stealing my shit," Sharon explains, tone tinged with annoyance and frustration and perhaps a hint of sleep, "and I'm just trying to get it back."

Her things, not the goose. She's not sure how one would go about getting back at a goose, anyway. ...though, that might explain the murder train.

[sisterswitch]

Nope, Jack has not actually seen the goose, only heard it and encountered other passengers who are set on killing it. Which she is very much against, in both principle and practice.

"That's fair and reasonable," she says, nodding in approval. "And remarkably non-bloodthirsty. See, there are these guys here who've decided that since Navi asked us to corral the goose so it can be set free out into the wilds of space, that clearly meant they need to murder it. I don't know, maybe it's a machismo thing?" She shrugs and shakes her head.

"Anyway, you're new here. I'm Jack. What did the goose steal from you?"

[ungodlily]

The murder train isn't even general goose thievery or dinner? There are some things in the world Sharon will never understand and it's how men handle most things.

"Uh, yeah, you got me. I'm...," she hesitates, the name Heather on her tongue, before she quickly recovers (that girl wasn't necessary here), "I'm Sharon and it managed to snag my vest."

"It was a birthday gift. A little blood-stained but, you know, memories." Translation: it means way more than something like that should.

"You happen to hear it anywhere recently?"