sixthiterationlogs | Sabriel Arrival

Entry tags:

Sabriel Arrival

WHO: Sabriel
WHERE: The bunker, and South Village
WHEN: January 20 to January 24
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Discussion of and thoughts of death, mentions of violence?

Arrival; Closed to 60; Jan 20

Sabriel floats in the tube. She doesn't wake, instead dreaming of a river, dank and cold and relentless, and of stars that spread out forever, becoming symbols that swirl and dance around her.

If it weren't for the display showing that she's very much alive, she'd be pale enough to be a corpse, black hair floating around her face like some strange kind of seaweed.

South Village; OTA Jan 20-24

Sabriel wastes no time trying to get a sense of where she is. She's been stripped of her magic, her sword, her bells... and she needs to get back to the Old Kingdom as quick as she can. Touchstone's waiting for her after all, and there is work for them both in the Old Kingdom.

But she isn't stupid enough to go running off into the wilderness- everyone here has arrived in a similar manner to her, and if there was a sure or easy way back, they would have taken it. So she moves through the buildings, and stops in the Inn, reading over every record she can find and committing all of it to memory. She's not sure what to think of the history of previous incidents, but at least the information about plants and animals is helpful, even if there doesn't seem to be a complete map. And they're serving lunch, which is always helpful.

Next she heads to the library, reviewing the information about surviving in the wilderness- she knows some of it, but she's also used to having tools and powers that she no longer possesses. So instead she reviews the information about building fires, foraging setting up snares, field-dressing game, finding and building shelter- there's a lot to review. And it helps her keep her mind from wandering back to other things, like the feeling of being pierced by her own sword, or her father- And Colonel Horyse- and Ellimere-

Sabriel realizes she's been staring at the same page for five minutes, and her hands are shaking. She steadies them, and turns the page.

That evening, she curls up in a corner of the inn's front room and tries not to cry. She has to live, and she has to get back to the Old Kingdom.

The next day, things are a little easier- she visits the blacksmith's and the butcher's and several other places in the village, to see what people do, and if there's any way she can be useful.

The day after, she borrows a spear and knife from the village store, and goes hunting- it's mostly an excuse to see what's in the wilderness around the village, but when she returns with a rabbit, she feels more useful than she has since she arrived.

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It's been just over two weeks since Connor visited this site. Two weeks of frustration, questions, scans, and samples all returning no answers. Where he is. How any of them got here. And most importantly: how to get out.

That being the case, it's time to review some of the preliminaries. Starting with the delivery mechanism. Connor's spent the bulk of the last few hours combing through the server rooms. Teasing apart what encrypted data he could, skimming through the list—of imports, he presumes? He's investigated the alarm system. And made his way, finally, back here.

The spatters of thirium at one end of the room have long since evaporated—and been tracked over by more wet and dripping shapes, besides. Connor shifts his focus in and out out of scanning mode, left hand twisting idly at the knife stashed in one pocket... until a thunk of displacement in one of the tubes makes him look up.

A woman. Pale, dark-haired, apparently human. Dressed in the same navy blue he wears beneath his coat. Connor removes his (empty) hand from the pocket, walking up to the display. Sabriel. Is she awake?

He knocks once on the glass casing.

The sound snaps Sabriel awake- and bubbles stream out of her mouth and she thrashes, trying to find footing and fight a current that isn't there as she tries to orient herself to Life. She must be in Death, if she's surrounded by water. But she isn't allowed to die yet- she remembers that clearly, even through her panic at being underwater.

But she has enough presence of mind to shut her mouth and try to conserve what air she has, hands reaching out to find smooth glass that isn't what she'd expect to find in Death, and when she sees a blurry figure beyond the glass, she reaches out and slams her open palm into the glass.

She has to get out- that's all she can think about as she struggles to hold her breath.

Apparently yes. At least, now. Connor raises his eyebrows, stepping to the side to scan through the vitals listed on the display. Panic aside, the human doesn't seem to be in dire straits.

For the second time in as many weeks, he keys in maintenance mode. Sabriel will find the water draining through the bottom of the tube containing her. Once it's entirely flushed out, the front will open.

As soon as she can, Sabriel takes deep gulps of air, letting the panic fade a little from her mind as she looks at her surroundings... which are utterly unfamiliar to her. This isn't Death- perhaps somewhere in Ancelstierre? It certainly isn't the Old Kingdom.

When she steps forward, her body is tense, ready to fight or flee, but there's an instant where her expression becomes unfocused as she tries to reach for the Charter, only to feel... nothing. Is she so far south of the Wall? who is that man? Her posture stiffens, hands reaching for sword and bell, only to grasp empty air, and she frowns, one hand pressing against her stomach- she can still feel something, but the wound seems to be mostly healed.

"I am Abhorsen," she says, looking at the man with wary curiousity, "And- where am I?"

Connor watches her disorientation. Tracks the tension, and the instant reach. For weapons, he assumes, but neither motion matches a reach for a holster. Something more primitive? Unfortunately likely.

...None of it looks particularly promising. Still, it's not as if he has any better leads.

"The bunker," he replies, stare locked in fixed analysis of her expression. "What do you remember?"

Sabriel notices the stare, and looks over the man, trying to get a sense of him. He's dressed more warmly than her, and on his forehead... it's far off center, and it doesn't look like any Charter mark she knows, but Sabriel's fingers fly up to the mark on her own forehead, one that looks like little more than a faint scar or faded tattoo.

Still, he didn't attack her when he had the opportunity, so she tries to recall what just happened, keeping her voice as level as she could.

"I was stabbed- and I wasn't allowed to die, not until there was someone else to be Abhorsen- then I was back in Life. Then I was in the tube- were you the one who opened it?" Was he a rescuer, or her kidnapper?

Stabbed. Dying. It's certainly a more creative story than his disappearance. But not with details that sound likely to serve a use. Connor tracks the reach—the scar. It looks too old to be the damage she's referring to. Unless she was tended to, then stored?

"Yes." Obvious, and irrelevant. He presses again, tone sharp. Demanding. "Do you remember anything about the tube? How did you get there?"

Connor hadn't remembered. Neither had anyone he'd asked back in the village. But if there was any chance a fresh arrival might retain some scrap of recollection...

"I'm in your debt then." There's gratitude in her voice, but his tone pushes her to focus more on her surroundings, and her own situation.

Sabriel shuts her eyes and tries to remember- and then she pulls up her shirt to reveal an ugly wound on her stomach, where Kerrigor had stabbed her. It's closed over and just stared to scar, and yet it looks better than she remembers it, when she'd stumbled back into Life and felt the healing spell her friends had put there. She reaches back, feeling the place where the sword came out of her back. Then she looks closely at her hands. Her fingernails look the same, and her callouses haven't faded. She looks up at the man, and speaks, her tone even as she notices he's wearing something on his wrist like she is. Some sort of bracelet?

"I can't remember. But my fingernails haven't grown or been cut, and the callouses on my hands haven't faded, so I can't have lost that much time- and yet I've been healed by something, and someone's changed my clothes." She should not feel as well as she does now with the amount of blood she remembers losing. She wants to ask... well, several questions, but he doesn't seem the sort for idle chatter. And unless he's trying to test her memory, he probably doesn't know how she arrived here either. She takes off the backpack she just realized she was wearing, keeping her eyes on the man.

"What can you tell me about this place? Where in Ancelstierre is it?"

Edited 2019-01-25 23:15 (UTC)

No memories.

His stare searches her features for the slightest sign of hesitation. The smallest blink or pause. If she were another android, this is when he'd reach to take her wrist: forcing a connection, scouring every fragment of memory for even the smallest of clues. But she isn't. There's nothing to search. No leads—not even doubt—to press for. Connor's mouth flattens, LED spinning a sharp and irritated flash of yellow.

Another day wasted.

Her own analysis is... something. A healed injury, but no other signs of time. Biological stasis? Regenerated tissue? All secondary to the transport question, but it's information on their captors' capabilities. Maybe. His words are still short and irritated as he turns away, walking back toward the server room.

"It isn't."

Edited 2019-02-03 16:27 (UTC)

Sabriel's own mouth flattens in irritation as she follows the man, surveying her surroundings, trying to puzzle out what the light on his head is. It must be some sort of technology, like the rest of this place. How could there be any magic in a place like this.

"Then where are we? There's too much technology for it to be the Old Kingdom." Sabriel doesn't mean to sound like a prefect prodding an underclassman, or like she was speaking to Mogget when he was being unhelpfully cryptic, but it ends up coming out that way. It's hard to hold onto gratitude when dealing with someone who simply acts annoyed.

"I take it you can't or won't answer why I'm here either."

Edited 2019-02-03 18:48 (UTC)

Too much technology? Connor shakes his head—as much in disbelief as confirmation.

"Don't let yourself be fooled by what's on hand." A hand waves idly at the server room as he steps in... before curling inwards, tapping at his chest. It's an inclusive phrase. The android's eyes flick back to Sabriel, expression schooled to perfect, polite neutrality. It's as if he hadn't noticed her condescension even a little.

"Everything outside this bunker is as useless and primitive as you're no doubt accustomed to."

...well. Maybe a little.

"What do you mean- does technology simply not work outside of certain areas here?" The condescension in her voice rapidly fades, giving way to open curiosity and confusion. Whatever is going on, it's clearly something outside of her experience, and venting her frustration on this man is not going to accomplish anything.

"I did spend thirteen years in Ancelstierre- I know about cars and telephones and radios." But she keeps her voice level and her tone polite- she's heard enough comments in Ancelstierre about the Old Kingdom for the words to have any sting. She needs to understand what's going on, and antagonizing her only source of information won't help. She rummages in the backpack she was given, frowning as she finds more unfamiliar clothes- but she pulls out the coat anyway, noticing it's the same as the one the man is wearing. So he arrived as she did- are they the only two, or are there others? Why were they taken?

Edited (little too much happening in the tag) 2019-02-11 19:55 (UTC)

"Radios," he echoes. The disdain is audible. Connor shakes his head, stepping forward to one of the computers. He ignores the keyboard, placing a hand over the panel just above it.

"Technology doesn't exist outside certain areas. Present company excluded." Eyebrows raise, and the skin from his hand begins to peel back: revealing bone-white plastic exoskeleton beneath.

"Like I said. I'm sure you'll feel perfectly at home."

Sabriel leans forward, looking surprised- but also curious.

"So Ancelstierre isn't as advanced as its citizens believe," It's spoken more to herself than to Connor, but her attention shifts back to him.

"So you're some sort of- mechanical Sending? One not bound to any particular location, or our captors wouldn't have been able to take you. And whoever made you gave you a face, and a voice." And far more of a personality than any Sending Sabriel had met. Why had it- he? let her out of the tube, and asked her those questions?

"Since our definitions of 'primitive' don't seem quite the same- does yours include plumbing and roofs that don't leak? Perhaps even telephones? It can't be too primitive, or people would be trying to live in this bunker."

It's starting to become clear that he and Maine don't actually know what they're doing. Oh sure, they're both terrifying and competent, but not in ways that work well for them here. They can kill, but hunting is different from combat. And neither of them are the world's greatest cooks. Heating up an MRE is about as close as Wash has got to it, considering he's lived in the military, or in prison, his entire adult life.

Which is why he's awkwardly making his way around the library. The books mostly seem to cover useful topics. Trapping might be helpful, and what to do with the things when you've caught them. He approaches the table with a stack of books and glances at the young woman already sitting there.

"Do you mind if I-"

"No, not at all," Sabriel looks up from an illustration of how to set a snare as he approaches. A man, older than her, but not old. She smiles politely, but it's a little distracted, and doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"I'm afraid I've arrived recently- can you tell me if there are any subjects that are particularly useful?" Her tone is even, and composed, and she distantly realizes that she still sounds a little like a schoolgirl.

Wash nods and give a small, tight smile before he drops his books onto the table and drops himself into the chair. He pulls the first book off the pile and thumbs through it, trying to decide what's most important to learn first. This would be so much easier with a datapad. Who even uses paper books anymore?

"I've not been here long myself. Everything is very basic so me and my partner are looking into hunting and... stuff."

"I have some experience with the wilderness," Sabriel admits, "But that was with more supplies, and I knew the plants there, while I'm unfamiliar with the ones here- but if you can learn about what grows here, it could be a useful source of food and medicine- it might not be the best season for it, but plants generally don't run away when they hear someone coming."

And that might be the very first joke she's made since she woke up.

"Yeah. I'm used to having MREs on me when I'm out in the field." They weren't great. Were probably never going to be great. But he would rather eat them than starve.

"Plans definitely have that advantage. Then you've got to learn how to actually cook them though." Some plants can be roasted right? Cooking meat over a fire is fine, but he's sort of found himself missing fruit.

"Well, some things can be eaten raw, but- do you know how to make a fire without matches or a spell?" It's probably telling that it's spells she mentions, rather than using a lighter.

"What's an 'MRE', anyway- some sort of ration?"

"Sure. Give me a lighter and I'm set." He knows that isn't what she means. "And I know basic survival." He can start a fire and will probably not die quickly. But long-term stuff? No, he's fucked. He hadn't exactly even expected to make it this long.

"MREs. Meals Ready to Eat. Several hundred flavours of awful that you heat up if there's no actual food around."

"Rations," Sabriel says, "Well, as long as it's something in your stomach and it doesn't make you sick, it's better than nothing. At least everyone seems to be cooperating and sharing resources."

Because otherwise, it would be a nightmare.

"Mostly better than nothing. You get a pre-packaged omelette and you start to reconsider." You can send people across the galaxy, put them in cold storage while you travel through slipspace, and still can't make a decent meal for the military.

"I guess. I haven't really... talked to people." There's the library though, he supposes that's a thing. And no-one has tried to kill him yet.

"Why not just send eggs?" Sabriel says, a little baffled at omlettes as provisions.

"I haven't spoken to many, but... I've tried to watch. People are cooperating, and there don't seem to be any attacks from the Dead or Free magic creatures.

"Because... they'd break? Or go off. Who's gonna ship hundreds of thousands of eggs between planets when you can just send MREs?" And now he was wondering if anyone here had chickens or ducks or something. it'd been ages since he'd had fresh eggs.

"The... dead?"

"Planets?" Sabriel's eyes have gone wide as saucers, "Are you saying you've been to other worlds?" Which honestly sounded like something out of an Ancelstierrian radio play.

That's a hell of a reaction, although maybe he should have been expecting it. It's weird, being in a place where travel between planets isn't normal. "I was born on a small colony planet in the Leonis Minoris system. I'm a marine so I've travelled around to quite a few places, yeah."

So he was a soldier. But more importantly-

"You can travel to other planets? Are you being completely serious?" She'd realized that people here were from places far from what she knew, that differed from where she'd come from in more ways than she could understand. But this is still a lot to take in.

Edited 2019-01-28 00:05 (UTC)

"Yes?" Wash replied. "Totally serious. It's just... normal. Boring. People have been doing it for hundreds of years." Sure, he knows that they didn't used to be able to, but that's so far beyond his lifetime that it's hard to imagine. Everyone just stuck on one planet. No wonder Earth had had so many problems.

"Oh- so how do they do it? Do they use special airplanes?" Sabriel leans forward, her reading entirely forgotten.

"If they've been doing it for centuries, they must have visited so many different places."

At least if she doesn't know how things work, Wash doesn't need to admit that he doesn't know exactly how everything works, in the same way that he can fix a car without knowing exactly how it works. "Starships. A bunch of different kinds. The bigger ones stay in space. Smaller ones take people planetside if there's no better way of doing it, like an orbital elevator."

Which there wasn't on many of the outer colony worlds.

"There used to be hundreds of human colonies. Planets, moons, meteors. All kinds of places."

"Used to be," Sabriel says, frowning at the past tense, "What happened to them?" Natural disaster doesn't make sense if they're on different planets, so...

"Was there a war?"

He's having to explain that a lot recently. it's odd. No-one asked back home. You might ask where someone was from, but you didn't ask further. You could always tell. It was in the spaces between their words.

"Yeah, there was a war. Been going on for almost as long as I've been alive. Only ended recently."

"Oh- well, it's good that it's over?" What could she say? He hadn't said how it ended, but if it had been going on that long, and so many settlements gone... asking for more information would be crass.

"Yeah, it is. And humanity survived." And what do you do as a species when you've poured everything into war for the last few decades? Well, maybe he won't make it long enough to figure out what you do when you're not at war for the first time ever.

"Maybe a break isn't such a bad idea."

"That's fortunate, but I have work to do where I come from- I don't appreciate being dragged somewhere, without any of my powers or tools."

She has to get back. Touchstone is waiting for her, and there are Dead to banish and a kingdom to rebuild.

"I don't think anyone is exactly happy about being here." Some people seem to have accepted it, but even then, they've been dragged here unwillingly. He can't imagine anyone's thrilled.

"What kind of tools?" He\s not touching the power thing if he can help it.

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Sabriel Arrival

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