Senior Crew (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dropoffs) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
spacecoast2023-04-05 07:36 am
dropoffs) wrote in spacecoast2023-04-05 07:36 am
Entry tags:
WEEK 4: DECOMMISSION
WEEK 4 ALERT
emergency detected
ALERT: EMERGENCY IN THE SIMULATION ROOMS.
LOCKDOWN SEQUENCE ENGAGING.
SYSTEM REBOOT LOCKED.
LIFE SUPPORT STABLE.
CLIMATE CONTROL STABLE.
FUNCTIONALITY WILL RESUME AFTER EMERGENCY ADDRESSED.
WARNING: PROCEED WITH CAUTION
REQUESTING CALLSIGNS:
INQUISITOR AND HARLEY QUINN
REPORT TO THE MAIN SIMULATION ROOM.
LOCKDOWN SEQUENCE ENGAGING.
SYSTEM REBOOT LOCKED.
LIFE SUPPORT STABLE.
CLIMATE CONTROL STABLE.
FUNCTIONALITY WILL RESUME AFTER EMERGENCY ADDRESSED.
WARNING: PROCEED WITH CAUTION
REQUESTING CALLSIGNS:
INQUISITOR AND HARLEY QUINN
REPORT TO THE MAIN SIMULATION ROOM.
A barrier barred me from leaving my location and the other senior officers are not responding to messages. Tread with caution.
CALLISTO
It's somber, this morning, barring the sudden, clipped request sent out by the Eudora. Hard to not be, considering the proceedings of yesterday - the loss of two crew members that you had come to know over the past weeks. The sequestering of one in the brig, the other monitored in the medical bay. The truth of their actions, come to light. The night passes without fanfare, and the sleep is barely fitful, no matter where you have spent the night.
And then, the morning comes.
The walls of the Eudora feel looming in the silence, but duty calls. Temenos and Harley have been requested to investigate the simulation room. There's nothing to guide them through these hallways except their own feet and the familiarity of this alert from many weeks past; there is no compulsion, there is no guiding light, just a request from the synthetic AI voice of the ship herself chirruping over and over again. If others attempt to investigate in their stead, they'll find that they're given no access through the archway of the simulation room's entry, but these two individuals can make it through without trouble.
The simulation room is not off, like it has been the past couple of weeks.
Instead... it's rather different from before.
And then, the morning comes.
The walls of the Eudora feel looming in the silence, but duty calls. Temenos and Harley have been requested to investigate the simulation room. There's nothing to guide them through these hallways except their own feet and the familiarity of this alert from many weeks past; there is no compulsion, there is no guiding light, just a request from the synthetic AI voice of the ship herself chirruping over and over again. If others attempt to investigate in their stead, they'll find that they're given no access through the archway of the simulation room's entry, but these two individuals can make it through without trouble.
The simulation room is not off, like it has been the past couple of weeks.
Instead... it's rather different from before.
no subject
the entire scene is horrifying. from beginning to end - even the sweet kindness of each greeting she passes to her friends is made sour. (Your party sounds wonderful. It's nice to be able to do those things together, whether in good spirits or sad ones.)
to his credit, temenos remains silent, composure kept perfectly in place at the gore and the misery and the despair played out on a live screen for the two of them to see. by the time the simulation ends, the magic spark is gone - no chance of revival, and there never was - and rosamund has long been gone, too. ]
... She ended it herself, after all. [ temenos says, in the achingly grieving silence that follows. in the most fucked up way possible. but that driven arrow - she did it herself. let me write my own story - she wrestled it away. even at the very end, even in the hands of the briars, she wrote it away. there's this awful sense of grief and... a little pride for her, too. for her strength, in the face of adversity.
looking down at rosamund - who looks so small, now - temenos reaches to close her eyes, if they're still open, and leaves his hand there, murmuring, silent: ] May the Sacred Flame light your path, your highness.
[ ... ]
We had best get her to the bay. Let's lift her together, if we must.
no subject
[t's more of a whisper than anything else. distraught. she rubs at her face, squeezing her eyes shut like that's going to help her unsee and unhear the contents of the video. this time, it takes her longer to compose herself. long enough for temenos to close rosamund's eyes and pay his respects, at least.
and then she slowly inhales. exhales. forces herself to crouch down on her still fucked up leg. and since her strength stat isn't 8—]
I've got her. [quietly. weary. she'll carry rosamund like a princess even if it means another round in the healing pods. and in the saddest clown attempt to lighten the mood up, just a little bit:] At least we don't have to climb down the tower, right?
[god. well, only one thing left to do now.]
no subject
because rosamund du prix is dead.
like the world's saddest funeral procession, harley and temenos carry the body of rosamund out of the simulation rooms, and down in careful process towards the stasis bay... where she will be laid to rest at last. where she will know no pain of thorn or briar or spindle or needle, where her story ends for now. here. ever after.
a soft ding reverberates on everyone's i.r.i.s. device, announcing what they all very well might know already. wretched sunday. terrible sunday. ]